et?"

"You would get my thanks and the thanks of Mr. Furze, I am sure. Look
here, Jim." Mrs. Furze rose and shut the kitchen door. Phoebe was
upstairs, but she thought it necessary to take every precaution. "I know
you may be trusted, and therefore I do not mind speaking to you. Tom's
conduct has not been very satisfactory of late. I need not go into
particulars, but I shall really be glad if you will communicate to me
anything you may observe which is amiss. You may depend upon it you
shall not suffer."

She put two half-crowns into Jim's hand. He turned and looked at her
with one eye partly shut, and a curious expression on his face--half
smile, half suspicion. He then looked at the money for a few seconds and
put it deliberately in his pocket, but without any sign of gratitude.

"I'll bear wot you say in mind," he replied.

At this instant the kitchen door opened, and Phoebe entered. Mrs. Furze
went on with the conversation immediately, but it took a different turn.

"How do you think the old boiler became cracked?" He was taken aback;
his muddled brain did not quite comprehend the situation, but at last he
managed to stammer out that he did not know, and Mrs. Furze retired.

Jim was very slow in arranging his thoughts, especially after a sudden
surprise. A shock, or a quick intellectual movement on the part of
anybody in contact with him, paralysed him, and he recovered and extended
himself very gradually. Presently, however, his wits returned, and he
concluded that the pretext of the shop and business mismanagement was but
very partially the cause of Mrs. Furze's advances. He knew that although
Mr. Furze was restive under Tom's superior capacity, there was no doubt
whatever of his honesty and ability. Besides, if it was business, why
did the mistress interfere? Why did she thrust herself upon him?--"coming
down 'ere a purpose," thought Mr. Orkid Jim. "No, no, it ain't
business," and, delighted with his discovery so far, and with the
conscious exercise of mental power, he smote the bricks with more vigour
than ever.

"Good-bye, Phoebe," said Catharine, looking in at the door.

"Good-bye, Miss," said Phoebe, running out; "hope you'll enjoy yourself:
I wish I were going with you."

"Where is she a-goin'?" asked Jim, when Phoebe returned.

"Chapel Farm."

"Oh, is she? Wot, goin' there agin! She's oftener there than here. Not
much love lost 'twixt her and the missus, is there?"

Phoebe