“He has just sent his men off to bed, I know,” said Patricia, “and we will send him off when he has had his tea.”
“I am so glad you are playing again,” said Mrs. Templeton to Maitland as he sat down by her side. “You need more recreation than you have been taking, I believe.”
A shadow crossed Maitland's face.
“I don't believe I need recreation very much, but these chaps of mine do,” he said simply.
“The workmen, you mean!”
“Yes. They lead rather a dull life, you know. Not much colour. A pool room on the whole has rather a rotten effect upon a chap who has been nine or ten hours indoors already and who sticks at the same thing day in and day out for months at a time.”
“Ah, I see. You mean you took up hockey for—ah—to help—”
“Well, I don't want to pose as a workingman's advocate and that sort of thing. But really he has a slow time.”
“Then, why doesn't he get busy and do something for himself,” broke in Stillwell, impatiently. “The Lord knows he is getting most of the money these days and has more spare time than anyone else in the community.”
But Maitland ignored him, till Patricia intervened.