“Are you keen on racing?” asked Juliet.

He laughed.  “I’ve no time for frivolities of that sort.”

“You could make time if you wanted to,” observed Mrs. Fielding.  “You are free on Saturday.”

“Am I?” said Green.

She challenged him in sudden exasperation.  “Well, what do you do on your off days?”

He considered for a moment.  “I’ll tell you what I’m doing to-morrow, if you like,” he said.  “In the morning I hold a swimming class for all who care to attend.  In the afternoon I’ve got a cricket match.  And in the evening I’m running an open-air concert at High Shale with Ashcott.”

“For those wretched miners!” exclaimed Mrs. Fielding.

He nodded.  “Yes, and their wives and their babies.  They are rather amusing shows sometimes.  We use native talent of course.  I believe you would be interested, Miss Moore.”

“I am sure I should,” said Juliet.  “May I come to one some day?”

He faced her boldly.  “Will you help at one—­some day?”

“Oh, really!” broke in Mrs. Fielding.  “That is too much.  I am sure my husband would never agree to that.”

“I don’t know why he shouldn’t,” said Juliet gently.  “But the point is—­should I be any good?”

“You sing,” said Green with confidence.

She smiled.  “Who told you so?”

His brows worked humorously.  “It’s one of the things I know without being told.  Would you be afraid to venture yourself in that rough crowd with only me to take care of you?”

“Not in the least,” said Juliet.

“Thank you,” he said.  “You would certainly have no need to be.  You would have an immense reception.”

“I am quite sure my husband would never allow it,” said Mrs. Fielding with a frown.  “These High Shale people are so hopelessly disreputable—­such a drunken, lawless lot.”

“But not beyond redemption,” said Green quickly, “if anyone takes the trouble.”

She shrugged her shoulders.  “There are not many people who have time to waste over them.  In any case, the responsibility lies at Lord Wilchester’s door—­not ours.”

“And as Lord Wilchester happens to be a rotter, they must go to the wall,” remarked Green.

“Well, it is no business of ours,” maintained Mrs. Fielding.  “I always leave that sort of thing to the busybodies who enjoy it.”

“What a good idea!” said Green.  “Do you know I never thought of that?”

“Tell me about the cricket match!” Juliet said, intervening.  “Who is playing?”

He gave her a glance of quizzical understanding.  “Oh, that’s a village affair too—­Little Shale versus Fairharbour, most of them fisher-lads, all of them sports.  I have the honour to be captain of the Little Shale team.”

“You seem to be everything,” she said.

“Jack of all trades!” sneered Mrs. Fielding.

Green laughed.  “I was just going to say that.”