And they said it would be such a good thing for both of you because he's so awfully rich: the Terror would go to Eton; and you'd go to a good school and get a proper bringing-up and grow up a lady, after all--" "I wouldn't go! I should hate it!" cried Erebus.
"Yes; they said you wouldn't like wholesome discipline," said the faithful reporter.

"And they didn't seem to think your mother would like it either--marrying the Cruncher." "Like it?
She wouldn't dream of it--a bounder like that!" said the Terror.
"I don't know--I don't know--if she thought it would be good for us--she'd do anything for us--you know she would!" cried Erebus, wringing her hands in anxious fear.
The Terror thrust his hands into his pockets; his square chin stuck out in dogged resolution; a deep frown furrowed his brow; and his face was flushed.
"This must be stopped," he said through his set teeth.
"But how ?" said Erebus.
"We'll find a way.

It's war!" said the Terror darkly.
Wiggins spurned the earth joyfully: "I'm on your side," he said.

"I'm a trusty ally.

He called me Freckles." "Come on," said the Terror.