but all he could say was--

"I don't quite fall in with it."

"_Why_ not? Now, my dear, I will make a bargain with you. If you can
assign a good reason, I will give it up; but, if you cannot, then, of
course, we ought to go, because _I_ have plenty of reasons for going.
Nothing can be fairer than that."

Mr. Furze was not quite clear about the "ought," although it was so fair,
but he was mute, and, after a pause, went into his shop. An accident
decided the question. Catharine was the lightest sleeper in the house,
notwithstanding her youth. Two nights after this controversy she awoke
suddenly and smelt something burning. She jumped out of bed, flung her
dressing-gown over her, opened her door, and found the landing full of
smoke. Without a moment's hesitation she rushed out and roused her
parents. They were both bewildered, and hesitated, ejaculating all sorts
of useless things. Catharine was impatient.

"Now, then, not a second; upstairs through Jane's bedroom, out into the
gutter, and through Hopkins's attic. You cannot go downstairs."

Still there was trembling and indecision.

"But the tin box," gasped Mr. Furze; "it is in the wardrobe. I must take
it."

Catharine replied by literally driving them before her. They picked up
the maid-servant, crept behind the high parapet, and were soon in safety.
By this time the smoke was pouring up thick and fast, although no flame