"Yes, why not? You laugh, Peter, but I can do rather more than you imagine when I put my mind to it. I mean to turn her out a lady." "My dear child, ladies are not turned out." "Well then I mean to help her to grow into a lady, is that better? She is trying hard to copy me, and it is quite touching to see what pains she takes in speaking. But come, I want you to talk to her," she added, as she led the way into the garden. "By the by," said Peter, "has this young woman relations or friends who are likely to demand her?" "I'll tell you about that another time," said Sheila as they came in sight of Meg. The girl rose at the sound of their voices. She was wearing a tweed coat and skirt and white blouse, and as she stood under the chestnut tree, her auburn hair gleaming in the sunshine, Peter could not but confess to himself that she was extraordinarily pretty. There was no timidity about her; she looked him straight in the face with fearless eyes. "You've chosen a lovely spot for your chair," said Peter. "Yes," answered Meg, "it's just lovely. Them flowers are gorgeous in that bed there, I've seen none like 'em. The heather and the bracken is all I know about, you see." "Then you know about something very beautiful," answered Peter. "There is nothing more lovely than heather and bracken. Even this garden does not come up to a Scotch moor." "Yes," said Meg simply, "when the sun shines on it or the clouds pass over it, turning it all colours, the heather is just beautiful." Sheila stood by delighted at the impression that she was convinced Meg was making on Peter. She was pleased too as she noticed that the girl was taking special pains to speak softly. Sheila had talked a great deal to her about her voice, and her words were evidently taking effect. So anxious was Sheila to hear Peter's opinion of her protégé that she would not allow him to stay too long talking with her. "I have a lot to talk over with you," she said after a few minutes conversation. "Come and see the new beds I have had arranged by the lake." Then when they were out of earshot she asked, "Well? didn't I describe her correctly? Don't you think she is lovely?" "Yes. But I don't approve of the plan any more than I did." "Don't approve! Why, what is wrong with her?" "Nothing. She strikes one as a thoroughly nice young woman, but I think it is the most cruel thing you can do for her, to rob her of her freedom and to keep her here." Sheila stood still, confronting Peter with an expression of deep indignation in her eyes. "Cruel? What on earth do you mean? I'm doing the kindest thing I possibly can. I'm treating her like a sister. She is to share my pleasures and all that I have. I can't understand what you mean."