"You, by all means. You may be sure that I should make a muddle of it." Mr. Poynter was amazed to notice with what nervousness the girl performed her duty. So engaged was she over it that she listened no more to the conversation, and Peter felt it was safe to indulge in a subject in which he knew she would not be able to join. It turned on the question as to which was the strongest factor in life, heredity or environment. Suddenly Mr. Poynter turned round to the girl with the question— "Don't you agree with me that environment has a greater influence than heredity?" Meg coloured. She had no idea what the word environment meant. She looked across at Peter, who smiled at her encouragingly. "Don't answer that question," he said laughing. "He wants to get you on his side, and then there will be two against one, that would not be fair, would it? Come now you are forgetting, and are actually giving me sugar? You ought to remember after what occurred at the picnic." Meg looked her gratitude. She knew Peter had understood her appeal for help and had got her purposely out of a difficulty. That was like Peter. She had noticed that trait in him a hundred times. He never liked to see anyone placed in an awkward position. Many a time indeed he had come to her rescue when Sheila had felt it her duty to administer a snub. But the question Mr. Poynter had asked had made her nervous, and she nearly upset a teacup which she was handing across to him, but which Peter rescued in time. They were laughing over the averted catastrophe when Sheila and Miss Gregson drove up to the house. The former looked in astonishment at the group round the tea-table and was not too pleased with what she saw. Peter had just discovered that some tea had fallen on Meg's pretty dress and was drying it with his pocket handkerchief amidst a good deal of laughter. "What is Meg doing?" exclaimed Sheila to Miss Gregson. "She might at least have waited to have tea till I returned. She is evidently acting the hostess to Peter and a stranger." Sheila quite forgot that she had many a time tried to impress upon Meg that she was to consider herself, and to act, as her sister, and now that the girl had obeyed her she was not altogether pleased. Meg, just because she loved her so much, was at once conscious that Sheila was displeased with her as she walked across the lawn towards the group by the table. Her gaiety fled. Had she done wrong in having up tea? Ought she to have waited? Or perhaps Peter after all should have poured out. Of course being what she was she had no right to take Sheila's place. The girl was perplexed and uncomfortable. Peter introduced his friend to Sheila. "I've heard of you," she said, "and Peter promised that the next time you were at Nettlebrook he would bring you over." Then she looked at Peter. "I'm glad you have had tea. Is it cold? Miss Gregson and I are dying for it." She ignored Meg altogether.