Jim looked at her, loitered, played with his cap, and seemed unwilling to leave.
“I’m comm’ up to-morrow mornin’, marm, just to ’ave one more look at that biler.” He then walked out.
“I suppose I must prosecute now,” said Mr. Furze.
“Prosecute! Nothing of the kind. What is your object? It is to get rid of him, and let Catharine see what he is. Suppose you prosecute and break down, where will you be, I should like to know? If you succeed, you won’t be a bit better off than you are now. Discharge him. Everybody will know why, and will say how kind and forgiving you are, and Catharine cannot say we have been harsh to him.”
Mr. Furze was uneasy. He had a vague feeling that everything was not quite right; but he said nothing, and mutely assented to his wife’s proposals.
“Then I am to give him notice to-morrow?”
“You cannot keep him after what has happened. You must give him a week’s wages and let him go.”
“Who is to take his place?”
“Why do you not try Jim? He is rough, it is true, but he knows the shop. He can write well enough for that work, and all you want is somebody to be there when you are out.”
Mr. Furze shuddered. That was not all he wanted, but he had hardly allowed himself, as we have already seen, to confess his weakness.