He looked through the glass window of the counting-house and saw Tom quietly weighing some nails. He would have given anything if he could have called him in, but he could not. As to dismissing him, it was out of the question now, and yet his sense of dependence on him excited a jealousy nearly as intense as his wife's animosity. When a man cannot submit to be helped he dislikes the benevolent friend who offers assistance worse than an avowed enemy. Mr. Furze felt as if he must at once request Tom's aid, and at the same time do him some grievous bodily harm. The morning passed away and nothing was advanced one single step. He went home to his dinner excited, and he was dangerous. It is very trying, when we are in a coil of difficulty, out of which we see no way of escape, to hear some silly thing suggested by an outsider who perhaps has not spent five minutes in considering the case. Mrs. Furze, knowing nothing of Mr. Eaton's contract, of the blacksmith's failure, of the advance in iron, of the trust meeting, of the stoppage of the navigation, and of the departure of the foundryman, asked her husband the moment the servant had brought in the dinner and had left the room-- "Well, my dear, what did Tom say when you told him to go?" "I haven't told him." "Not told him, my dear! how is that?" "I wish with all my heart you'd mind your own affairs." "Mr. Furze! what is the matter? You do not seem to know what you are saying." "I know perfectly well what I am saying. I wish you knew what _you_ are saying. When we came up here to the Terrace--much good has it done us--I thought I should have no interference with my business. You understand nothing whatever about it, and I shall take it as a favour if you will leave it alone." Mrs. Furze was aghast. Presently she took out her pocket-handkerchief and retreated to her bedroom. Mr. Furze did not follow her, but his dinner remained untouched. When he rose to leave, Catharine went after him to the door, caught hold of his hand and silently kissed him, but he did not respond. During the dinner-hour Tom had looked in the counting-house and saw the letters lying on the table untouched. Mr. Eaton's steward came in with congratulations that the tender was accepted, but he could not wait. As Mr. Furze passed through the shop Tom told him simply that the steward had called. "What did he want?" "I do not know, sir."