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."

Catharine particularly objected to her aunt at Ely. She was a maiden
lady and elder sister to Mrs. Furze. She had a small annuity, had turned
herself into a most faithful churchwoman, and went to live at Ely because
it was cheap and a cathedral city. Every day, morning and afternoon, was
Aunt Matilda to be seen at the cathedral services, and frequently she was
the only attendant, save the choir and officials.

"Why do you want me out of the way?" said Catharine, dismissing without
the least notice the alleged pretext.

"I have told you, my dear."

"I cannot go to Ely. If you wish me to go anywhere, I will go to Mrs.
Bellamy's."

"My dear, that is not a sufficient change for you. Ely is a different
climate, and I cannot consent to quartering you on a stranger for so
long."

"Mrs. Bellamy will not object. Will the new house be like the old one?"

"Well, really, may dear, nothing at present is quite determined; no doubt
your father will take the opportunity of making a few improvements."

"My bedroom, I hope, will be what it was before, and in the same place."

"Oh, I--I trust there will be no serious alteration, except what--what
will be agreeable to us all, bu