“I don’t know where she expects to find her talent,” sniffed Agnes. Then, twinkling: “She hasn’t asked me to sing or dance.”
“I know a couple of stokers who do a regular double-shuffle,” said Neale. “Caught ’em at it on one of the ventilators, below. Say! No stage dancer ever turned ’em off better.”
“Stokers! Grimy coal-passers?” sniffed Agnes.
“Why wouldn’t it be a good thing—and a novel thing, too—to get the talent for this concert from the steerage, stokehole, and forecastle? Usually the concert is given by the cabin passengers and the workmen aboard listen out on the edges of the crowd. Why not let the poor fellows give the concert and then everybody in the first and second cabins can be asked to pay a round sum for tickets.”
Agnes said not a word, but Neale threw up his hat.
“I’m going to ask those fellows——”
“No, no!” cried Ruth. “You have no right to do anything of the kind. The suggestion should be made to Miss Hastings.”
“Well, I guess nobody will dare do that,” said Agnes, and settled back into her chair with more satisfaction.
Neale went off at once, however, without saying another word to the sisters. He had noticed Nalbro Hastings leaning against the rail, forward. He marched up to her and pulled off his cap. Miss Hastings looked rather startled and Neale wondered if she was bashful, as Ruth had suggested.
“Beg pardon, Miss Hastings,” said the boy, quite untroubled himself, “have you got all the talent you need for the concert?”