She was vexed at Peter's very sparse praise of her protégé.
She could hardly get him to talk about Meg, and took his silence to mean that he had not forgiven her for adopting the girl without asking his advice. She felt sure he had expected some terrible consequences, and perhaps was annoyed that his pessimistic prognostications had not come to pass. No harm whatever had happened from her action. It had all turned out as she had hoped it would, and Peter must be aware of this, she thought to herself, but manlike would be slow in acknowledging that an unusual proceeding on the part of a woman had turned out so thoroughly satisfactory.
She was triumphant at the thought of the surprise she was bent upon giving. Peter was musical, and would at once acknowledge that Meg's voice was as good as any professional's.
Meg took no part in the discussion that was going on between her companions. She sat gazing out of the window wistfully.
Suddenly Sheila became aware that the girl was not listening. "What are you thinking of?" she asked.
Meg started.
"I've had a dream," she said colouring.
"A dream? Let's hear it. Was it anything very tragic?"
"It was about Jem," faltered the girl.
"Jem? Who's Jem?" Sheila had quite forgotten that Meg had told her on first arriving about this friend of hers.