When she had helped them to cake and poured out their wine, the Terror broached the matter that had brought them to her house.
Ellen's mind ran firmly and unswerving in the groove of butter and eggs and poultry, which she carried every market-day to Rowington in her pony-cart.

She laughed consumedly at the Terror's belief that any one would want to buy kittens.

But unmoved by her open incredulity, he was very patient with her and persuaded her to try, at any rate, to sell their kittens at her stall in Rowington market.

Ellen consented to make the attempt, for she had always found it difficult to resist the Terror when he had set his mind on a thing, and she was eager to oblige him; but she held out no hopes of success.
The Terror came away content, since he had gained his end, and did not share her despondency.

Erebus, on the other hand, infected by Ellen's pessimism, rode in a gloomy depression.
Presently her face brightened; and with an air of inspiration she said: "I tell you what: even if we don't sell those kittens, we can always buy the stole.