He was quite content to live at the rectory as his forebears had lived, to deal with parish affairs, to give what spiritual and bodily comfort he could to his people, and to fend off the advances of Idris Campanula and Eleanor Prentice. He knew very well that both these ladies bitterly resented the presence of Mrs. Ross, and that he was in for one of those hideously boring situations when he felt exactly as if he was holding down with his thumb the cork of a bottle filled with seething ginger-pop.

He said, “Thank you very much. I don’t feel that my duties as chairman will be very heavy as we have only met to settle the date and nature of this entertainment, and when that is decided all I shall have to do is to hand everything over to the kind people who take part. Perhaps I should explain a little about the object we have in mind. The Young People’s Friendly Circle, which has done such splendid work in Pen Cuckoo and the neighbouring parishes, is badly in need of funds. Miss Prentice as president and Miss Campanula as secretary, will tell you all about that. What we want more than anything else is a new piano. The present instrument was given by your father, wasn’t it, squire?”

“Yes,” said Jocelyn. “I remember quite well. It was when I was about twelve. It wasn’t new then. I can imagine it’s pretty well a dead horse.”

“We had a tuner up from Great Chipping,” said Miss Campanula, “and he says he can’t do anything more with it. I blame the scouts. Ever since the eldest Cain boy was made scout-master they have gone from bad to worse. He’s got no idea of discipline, that young man. On Saturday I found Georgie Biggins tramping up and down the keyboard in his boots and whanging the wires inside with the end of his pole. ‘If I were your scout-master,’ I said, ‘I’d give you a beating that you’d not forget in a twelvemonth.’ His reply was grossly impertinent. I told the eldest Cain that if he couldn’t control his boys himself he’d better hand them over to someone who could.”