Jim dropped his chisel. The three events presented themselves together--Tom's escort of Catharine, the interview with Mrs. Furze, and the departure to Chapel Farm. He was excited, and his excitement took the form of a sudden passion for Phoebe. "You're ten times too 'ansom for that chap," he cried, and turning suddenly, he caught her with one arm round her waist. She strove to release herself with great energy, and in the struggle he caught his foot in his tool basket and fell on the floor, cutting his head severely with a brick. Phoebe was out of the kitchen in an instant. "You damned cat!" growled he, "I'll be even with you and your Master Tom! I know all about it now." CHAPTER XV As Jim walked home to his dinner he became pensive. He was under a kind of pledge to his own hatred and to Mrs. Furze to produce something against Tom, and he had nothing. Even he could see that to make up a charge would not be safe. It required more skill than he possessed. The opportunity, however, very soon came. Destiny delights in offering to the wicked chances of damning themselves. It was a few days before the end of the quarter. The builder--in whose service Jim's brother, Joe, was--sent Joe to pay a small account for ironmongery, which had been due for some weeks. When he entered the shop Tom was behind his desk, and Jim was taking some instructions about a job. Mr. Furze was out. Joe produced his bill, threw it across to Tom, and pulled the money out of his pocket. It was also market day; the town was crowded, and just at that moment Mr. Eaton drove by. Tom looked out of the window on his left hand and saw the horse shy at something in the cattle pens, pitching Mr. Eaton out. Without saying a word he rushed round the counter and out into the street, the two men, who had not seen the accident, thinking he had gone to speak to Mr. Eaton. He was absent some minutes. "A nice sort of a chap, this," said Jim; "he's signed your bill, and he ain't got the money." "S'pose I must wait, then." "Look 'ere, Joe: don't you be a b---y fool! You take your account. If he writes his name afore he's paid, that's _his_ look-out." Joe hesitated. "Wot are you a-starin' at? You've got the receipt, ain't yer? Isn't that enough? You ain't a-robbin' of him, for you never giv him the money, and I tell yer agin as he's the one as ought to lose if he don't look sharp arter people. That's square enough, ain't it?" Joe had a remarkably open mind to reasoning of this description, and, without another word, he took up the bill and was off. Jim also thought it better to return to the foundry. Mr. Eaton, happily, was not injured, for he fell on a truss of straw, but the excitement was great; and, when Tom returned, Joe's visit completely went out of his head, and did not occur to him again, for two or three customers were waiting for him, and, as already observed, it was market day.