Then of a sudden the face of the Terror brightened; and he said with a touch of triumph in his tone: "I've got it; we'll feed them on skim-milk." "They feed pigs on skim-milk, not kittens," said Erebus scornfully.
That was indeed the practise at Little Deeping.

Butter-making was its chief industry; and the skim-milk went to the pigs.
"If it fattens pigs, it will fatten kittens," said the Terror firmly.
"But how can we get it?
They don't sell it about here," said Erebus.
"And you know what they are: if Granfeytner didn't sell skim-milk, nobody's going to sell skim-milk to-day." "Oh, yes: old Stubbs will sell it," said the Terror confidently.
"Old Stubbs! But he hates us worse than any one!" cried Erebus.
"Oh, yes; he doesn't like us.

But he's awfully keen on money; every one says so.

And he won't care whose money he gets so long as he gets it.

Come on; we'll go and talk to him about it," said the Terror.
The Twins went firmly across the common to the house of farmer Stubbs and knocked resolutely.