"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 long fit of hysterical sobbing. She would not come down to tea, and excused herself on the ground of sickness. Catharine went up to her mother and inquired what was the matter, but was repulsed. "Nothing is the matter--at least, nothing you can understand. I am very unwell; I am better alone; go down to Mrs. Bellamy." "But, mother, it will do you good to be downstairs. Mrs. Bellamy will be so glad to see you, and she was so kind to me; it will be odd if you don't come." "Go _away_, I tell you; I am best by myself; I can endure in solitude; you cannot comprehend these nervous attacks, happily for you; go _away_, and enjoy yourself with Mrs. Bellamy and your sausages." Catharine had had some experience of these nervous attacks, and left her mother to herself. Mrs. Bellamy and Catharine consequently had tea alone, Mr. Furze remaining at his shop that afternoon, as he had been late in arrival. "Sorry mother's so poorly, Catharine. Well, how do you like the Terrace?" "I hate it. I detest every atom of the filthy, stuck-up, stuccoed hovel. I hate--" Catharine was very excited, and it is not easy to tell what she might have said if Mrs. Bellamy had not interrupted her.