ee my Catharine, though--and her
mother--though they _do_ live in the Terrace, but I couldn't get Bellamy
to come--no, he said the Terrace warn't for him; he'd go and smoke a pipe
and have something to drink at your old shop, or rather your new shop,
but it's in the old place in the High Street--leastways if you keep any
baccy and whiskey there now--and he'd call for me with the gig, and I
said as I knew my Catharine--her mother--would give me a cup of tea; and,
Miss Catharine, you remember that big white hog as you used to look at
always when you went out into the meadow?--well, he's killed, and I know
Mr. Furze likes a bit of good, honest, country pork--none of your nasty
town-fed stuff--you never know what hogs eat in towns--so Bellamy has a
leg about fourteen pounds in the gig, but I thought I'd bring you about
two or three pounds of the sausages myself in my basket here," and Mrs.
Bellamy pointed to a basket she had on her arm. She paused and became
aware that there was a stranger sitting near the fireplace. "But you've
got a visitor here; p'r'aps I shall be in the way."

"In the way!" said Catharine. "Never, never; give me your basket and
your bonnet; or stay, Mrs. Bellamy, I will go upstairs with you, and you
shall take off your things."

And so, before Mrs. Furze had spoken a syllable, Catharine and Mrs.
Bellamy marched out of the room.

"Who is that--that person?" said Mrs. Colston. "I fancy I have seen her
before. She seems on intimate terms with your daughter."

"She is a farmer's wife, of humble origin, at whose house my
daughter--lodged--for the benefit of her health."

"I must bid you good-day, Mrs. Furze. If you will kindly send a cheque
for the five pounds to me, the receipt shall be returned to you in due
course, and the drawing of the altar-cloth shall follow. I can assure
you of the committee's thanks."

Mrs. Furze recollected she ought to ring the bell, but she also
recollected the servant could not appear in proper costume. Accordingly
she opened the dining-room door herself.

"Let me move that ere pail, mum, or you'll tumble over it," said the
charwoman to Mrs. Colston, "and p'r'aps you won't mind steppin' on this
side of the passage, 'cause that side's all wet. 'Ere, Mrs. Furze, don't
you come no further, I'll open the front door"; and this she did.

Mrs. Furze felt rather unwell, and went to her bedroom, where she sat
down, and, putting her face on the bedclothes, gave way to a l