"I intend to," Douglas calmly replied. "But let us get on with our work."
Though outwardly calm, the letter he had received rankled in his heart. The idea that one man could rule a whole community was abhorrent and unnatural. He had no intention of leaving, and he was determined to meet Simon Stubbles and have it out with him face to face. Suppose he should be driven from the parish, how could he ever come back again? How could he return as rector to be the contempt and laughing-stock of all? No, he would oppose Stubbles to the bitter end. The worst they could do would be to kill him, and he was not afraid to die if necessary.
It was near evening and they were hauling in the last load of hay from the field near the road, when an auto, bearing several men, sped past.
"It's Ben bringin' the delegation from the station," Jake explained, as he watched the rapidly disappearing car.
"What delegation?" Douglas queried.
"Why, didn't I tell ye?" Jake asked in surprise. "Well, I clean fergot all about it. There's to be a big Church meetin' to-night in the hall. Si got word an' he sent notice all around."
"What is the meeting about?" Douglas enquired.
"It has something to do with the new parson who is comin', so I understand."
"So you are to get another clergyman, are you?" Douglas asked as indifferently as possible.
"Seems so. The Bishop has a man all ready, who will be here in a few weeks. I pity the poor feller, I really do, though I can't say I'm much set on parsons since our experience with the last ones."