With
men like Mr. Furze the unconscious reason, which is partly a direction by
past and forgotten experiences, and partly instinct, is often more to be
trusted than any mental operation, strictly so-called. An attempt to use
the mind actively on subjects which are too large, or with which it has
not been accustomed to deal, is pretty nearly sure to mislead. He knew,
or it knew, whatever we like to call it, that to break him from his
surroundings meant that he himself was to be broken, for they were a part
of him.

His wife attacked him again the next day. She was bent upon moving, and
it is only fair to her to say that she did really wish to go for
Catharine's sake. She loved the child in her own way, but she also
wanted to go for many other reasons.

"Well, my dear, what have you to say to my little scheme?"

"How about my dinner and tea?"

"Come home to the Terrace. How far is it?"

"Ten minutes' walk."

"An hour every day, in all weathers; and then there's the expense."

"As to the expense, I am certain we should save in the long run, because
you would not be expected to be continually asking people to meals."

"I am afraid that the business might suffer."

"Nonsense! In what way, my dear? Your attention will be more fixed upon
it than it can be with the parlour always behind you."

There was something in that, and Mr. Furze was perplexed. He was not
sufficiently well educated to know that something, and a great deal, too,
can be said for anything, and he had not arrived at that callousness to
argument which is the last result of culture.

"Yes, but I was thinking that perhaps if we leave off chapel and go to
church some of our customers may not like it."

"Now, my good man, Furze, why you know you have as many customers who go
to church as to chapel."

"Ah! but those who go to chapel may drop off."

"Why should they? We have plenty of customers who go to church. They
don't leave us because we are Dissenters, and, as there are five times as
many church people as Dissenters, your connection will be extended."

Mrs. Furze was unanswerable, but her poor husband, after all, was right.
The change, when it took place, did not bring more people to the shop,
and some left who were in the habit of coming. His dumb, dull
presentiment was a prophecy, and his wife's logic was nothing but words.

"Then there are all the rooms here; what shall we do with them?"

"I have told you; you want more spac