"Mr. Stubbles to rule things in such a way?"
"H'm, they can't help it. Why, Si Stubbles owns most of the people in this place, body an' soul. The men work fer him in the woods in the winter time, an' in his mill the rest of the year. They git nearly everything at his store, an' are generally in debt to him, so that's where he has 'em. What Si says goes in this parish, an' any one who bucks him has to git out. Several tried it in the past, but they didn't stay here long. Things got too hot fer 'em. It pays a man to keep on the good side of Si, if he expects to hold on here."
"You must be independent of him, though. You have your farm, and do not look to him for anything."
"Not a bit of it. I'm in his clutches jist as much as the rest of the folks. He buys all of my stuff, an' I haul logs fer him in the winter. It means quite a bit to me. An' besides, if Si should git down on me, why all the rest would do so, too. He's got us all in the same box."
"So, it's chiefly through him, then, that the church is closed in this parish?"
"That's about it."
"But why doesn't some other man come, say a Methodist or Baptist minister? Surely all of the people here do not belong to the Church of England?"
"Most of 'em do, but there's a sprinklin' of Baptists and Methodies, with here an' there a Presbyterian. Their men did come, an' started meetin's. But they didn't stay long when Si once got after 'em. He boasts that he is a loyal member of the Church of England, an' a church warden, so he can't stand any other form of 'ligion."
"Oh, I see," Douglas mused. "It's a case of the dog in the manger."
"Put it any way ye like," Jake replied, as he once more stretched himself out on the grass. "Si Stubbles rules this place, an' I guess will rule it as long as he stays here."