I shall do my share, and anyone who is not prepared to do the same had better look out for another holding at once." No one rejoiced more at the coming home of the Squire than Mr.Bastow, the Rector.

He had had a pleasant time of it during the life of the old Squire.

He was always a welcome guest at the house; Mr.Thorndyke had been ever ready to put his hand into his pocket for any repairs needed for the church, and bore on his shoulders almost the entire expense of the village school.

In the latter respect there had been no falling off, he having given explicit instructions to his solicitors to pay his usual annual subscriptions to the school until his son's return from India.
But with the death of the Squire the Rector had gradually lost all authority in the village.
For a time force of habit had had its effect, but as this wore out and the people recognized that he had no real authority things went from bad to worse.

Drunken men would shout jeeringly as they passed the Rectory on their way home from the alehouse; women no longer feared reproof for the untidiness of their houses and children; the school was half emptied and the church almost wholly so.
For seven or eight years Mr.Bastow had a hard time of it.