"Let us go into the Bell"; and into the Bell they went, into the large, empty coffee-room, very quiet at that time of the morning. "We are better here," said Tom, "if we want to know what we ought to do. The first thing is to write to the insurance company." "Of course, of course!" "We will do that at once; I will write the letter, and you sign it." In less than ten minutes this stage of the business was passed. "The next thing is to find a shop while they are rebuilding." That was not quite so easy a matter. There was not one in the High Street to be let. At last an idea struck Tom. "There is the Moot Hall--underneath it, I mean. We shall have to buy fittings, but I will have them so arranged that they will do for the new building. All that is necessary is to obtain leave; but we shall be sure to get it: only half of it is wanted on market days, and that's the part that isn't shut off. We'll then write to Birmingham and Sheffield about the stock. We'd better have a few posters stuck about at once, saying that business will be carried on in the Hall for the present." Mr. Furze saw the complexity unravel itself, and the knot in his head began to loosen, but he did not quite like to reflect that he owed his relief to Tom, and that Tom had seen his agitation. Accordingly, when a proof of the poster was brought, he was the master, most particularly the master, and observed with much dignity and authority that it ought not to have been set up without the benefit of his revision; that it would not do by any means as it stood, and that it had better be left with him. Mr. and Mrs. Hopkins insisted upon continuing their hospitality until a new home could be found, and Mrs. Furze urged her project of the Terrace with such eagerness, that at last her husband consented. "I think," said Mrs. Furze, when the debate was concluded, "that Catharine had better go away for a short time until we are settled in the Terrace and the shop is rebuilt. She would not be of much use in the new house, and would only knock herself up." That was not Mrs. Furze's reason. She had said nothing to Catharine, but she instinctively dreaded her hostility to the scheme. Mr. Furze knew that was not Mrs. Furze's reason, but he accepted it. Mrs. Furze knew it was not her own reason, but she also accepted it, and believed it to be the true reason. Such contradictions are quite possible in that mystery of mysteries the human soul. "My dear Catharine," quoth her mother that evening, "you look worried and done up. No wonder, considering what we have gone through. A change would do you good, and you had better go and stay with your aunt at Ely till we have a roof of our own over our heads once more. She will be delighted to see you."