"Well then I don't see why you need mind singing it," he said holding out his hand to her. "I should like much to hear it again. I have not heard it for years and it does not signify in the least that you will have to sing it unaccompanied. I have a Temperance meeting in my schoolroom to-morrow night. Come and sing 'The Last Rose of Summer' to please me."
Meg had not gone many minutes before Mr. Wentworth, taking his hat from a peg in the hall prepared to go to a Committee Meeting at which he was due at half past ten o'clock. On the way to the vestry he stopped at a post office.
He smiled as he wrote the following telegram.
"'The Last Rose of Summer' will be sung in my schoolroom to-morrow at eight o'clock." He was never so happy as when he knew he was making others so. The telegram was to Peter Fortescue and was addressed to the London Hotel where he was staying.
* * * * * *
Meg was feeling nervous as she put on her hat and prepared to go to the schoolroom. All her courage seemed to have forsaken her.
When Mrs. Webb had looked in on her early in the morning she found the girl pacing up and down in trepidation.
"I can't do it," she exclaimed to her friend. "I don't believe a note will come to-night. I can't think why I am so frightened."
"It's because you ain't strong yet. That's what it is, my dear; you should have taken my advice and not tried to sing yet awhile."
"I wish I had," said Meg looking at Mrs. Webb with distressed eyes. "I don't think I shall get through. It's so funny, as I wasn't a bit nervous when I sang to the grand company at Friars Court."