gged 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."

"How original of you!" said Juliet. "Well, I hope you'll win."

"He is the sort of person who always comes out on top whether he wins or
loses," said Fielding, striding up the long room at the moment. "You've
not seen him play cricket yet, Miss Moore. He's a positive tornado on
the cricket-ground. To-morrow's Saturday, isn't it? Where are you
playing, Dick?"

His good-humour was evidently fully restored. He slapped a hand on
Dick's shoulder with the words. Mrs. Fielding's lips turned downwards at
the action.

"We are playing the Fairharbour crowd, sir, on Lord Saltash's ground,"
said Green. "It's in Burchester Park. You know the place don't you? It's
just above the town."

"Yes, yes, I know it. A fine place. Pity it doesn't belong to somebody
decent," said the squire.

Mrs. Fielding laughed unpleasantly. "Dear me! More wicked lords?"

Her husband looked at her with his quick frown. "I thought everybody
knew Saltash was a scoundrel. It's common talk that he's in Paris at this
moment entertaining that worthless jade, Lady Joanna Farringmore."

Juliet gave a violent start at the words. For a moment her face flamed
red, then went dead white--so white that she almost looked as if she
would faint. Then, in a very low voice, "It may be common talk," she
said, "but--I am quite sure--it isn't true."

"Good heavens!" exclaimed the squire. "My dear Miss Moore, pray forgive
me! I forgot you knew her."

She smiled at him, still with that ashen face. "Yes, I know her. At
least--I used to. And--she may have been heartless--I think she was;--b