At five punctually all had again assembled, the additions to the party being Mrs. Furze and her daughter Catharine, a young woman of nineteen. Mrs. Furze was not an Eastthorpe lady; she came from Cambridge, and Mr. Furze had first seen her when she was on a visit in Eastthorpe. Her father was a draper in Cambridge, which was not only a much bigger place than Eastthorpe, but had a university, and Mrs. Furze talked about the university familiarly, so that, although her education had been slender, a university flavour clung to her, and the farmers round Eastthorpe would have been quite unable to determine the difference between her and a senior wrangler, if they had known what a senior wrangler was. "Ha," observed Mr. Gosford, when they were seated, "I wur sayin', Mrs. Furze, to Chandler as he ought to go in for old Bartlett's widow. Now what do _you_ think? Wouldn't they make a pretty pair?" and he twisted Chandler's shoulders round a little till he faced Mrs. Furze. "Don't you be a fool, Gosford," said Chandler in good temper, but as he disengaged himself, he upset his tea on Mrs. Furze's carpet. "Really, Mr. Gosford," replied Mrs. Furze, with some dignity and asperity, "I am no judge in such matters. They are best left to the persons concerned." "No offence, ma'am, no offence." Mrs. Furze was not quite a favourite with her husband's friends, and he knew it, but he was extremely anxious that their dislike to her should not damage his business relationships with them. So he endeavoured to act as mediator. "No doubt, my dear, no doubt, but at the same time there is no reason why Mr. Gosford should not make any suggestion which may be to our friend Chandler's advantage," But Mr. Gosford was checked and did not pursue the subject. Catharine sat next to him. "Mr. Gosford, when may I come to Moat Farm again?" "Lord, my dear, whenever you like you know that. Me and Mrs. G. is always glad to see you. _When_ever you please," and Mr. Gosford instantly recovered the good-humour which Mrs. Furze had suppressed. "Don't forget us," chimed in Mr. Bellamy. "We'll turn out your room and store apples in it if you don't use it oftener." "Now, Mr. Bellamy," said Catharine, holding up her finger at him, "you'll be sick of me at last. You've forgotten when I had that bad cold at your house, and was in bed there for a week, and what a bother I was to Mrs. Bellamy." "Bother!" cried Bellamy--"bother! Lord have mercy on us! why the missus was sayin' when you talked about bother, my missus says, 'I'd sooner have Catharine here, and me have tea up there with her, notwithstanding there must be a fire upstairs and I've had to send Lucy to the infirmary with a whitlow on her thumb--yes, I would, than be at a many tea-parties I know.'" Mrs. Furze gave elaborate tea-parties, and was uncomfortably uncertain whether or not the shaft was intended for her.