If the details tallied he would have the delight of being the means of setting his friend's heart at rest. As Meg told him her story, with reservations, however, she noticed that his attention often seemed to be wandering to the letter before him. She was somewhat discouraged; on the other hand his manner was so kind and sympathetic when he turned towards her that she told him more than she had intended. At the close he looked up with a smile. "And now what do you want me to do for you?" he asked. "Mrs. Webb tells me you sometimes have parish concerts. I was wondering if you would let me sing. Perhaps in that way I might get pupils." "And what songs can you sing?" The Rector had pushed the letter, that had engaged his attention, on one side, and now sat with his elbow on the table resting his head on his hand and looking kindly at the girl. Meg gave an exclamation of dismay. "I've just remembered that I left all my songs at Friars Court," she said colouring with vexation, "so I can only sing unaccompanied. That wouldn't do, would it?" She looked at him anxiously. "Why not?" "I don't suppose they would care for unaccompanied songs." "Could you sing 'The Last Rose of Summer?'" he asked with a smile. Meg could not interpret the smile. There was almost a look of mischief in it. She flushed. "I'd a deal rather not," she stammered. "Rather not? But it is one of my favourite songs. I wonder now why you dislike it." "I don't dislike it, but I made up my mind I'd never sing it again. You see I told you it brought Jem to me, and I turned my back on him. I couldn't sing it again. I hate the song." "And if it brought him again would you still hate it?" "How could I?" said Meg quietly. There was a tone in her voice which Mr. Wentworth noticed and interpreted. He rose. "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.