say we might go farther and fare
worse, and were stuck up, and all that, for we must remember that all the
Furzes were of humble origin, and Eastthorpe knows it. No, no, we will
get rid of Tom, but it shall not be because of Catharine--something
better than that--you leave it to me."

"Well, how about Catharine?"

"We will have her in to-morrow morning, when we are not so flurried. I
always like to talk to her just after breakfast if there is anything
wrong; but do not you say a word to Tom."

Mrs. Furze took another sip of the brandy-and-water and went to bed. Mr.
Furze shut the window, mixed a little more brandy-and-water, and, as he
drank it, reflected deeply. Most vividly did that morning come back to
him when he had once before decided to eject Mr. Catchpole.

"I do not know how it is with other people," he groaned, "but whenever I
have settled on a thing something is sure to turn up against it, and I
never know what to be at for the best. My head, too, is not quite what
it used to be. Half a dozen worries at once do muddle me. If they would
but come, one up and one down, nobody could beat me." He took another
sip of the brandy-and-water. "Want of practice--that's all. I have been
an idiot to let him do so much. He shall go"; and Mr. Furze put out the
candles.

Catharine was down before either her father or mother, and stood at the
window reading when her father came in. She bade him good morning and
kissed him, but he was ill at ease, and pretended to look for something
on the side-table. He felt he was not sufficiently supported by the main
strength of his forces; he was afraid to speak, and he retreated to his
bedroom, sitting down disconsolately on a rush-bottom chair whilst his
wife dressed herself.

"She's there already," he said.

"Then it is as well you came back."

"I think you had better begin with her; you are her mother, and we will
wait till breakfast is over. Perhaps she will say something to us. How
had we better set about it?"

"I shall ask her straight what she means."

"How shall we go on then?"

"How shall we go on then? What! won't _you_ have a word to put in about
her marrying a fellow like that, your own servant with such a father? And
how are they to live, pray? Am I to have him up here to tea with us, and
is Phoebe to answer the front door when they knock, and is she to wait
upon him, _him_ who always goes down the area steps to the kitchen? I do
not believe