"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." "Well, you must just do the best you can. You see you've promised and it would never do to draw back now. And you might practice a bit on Willie and me when I come home to tea. It would give you courage." "If only I hadn't promised to sing 'The Last Rose of Summer,'" sighed the girl. "Don't you worry my dear. That's my advice. It don't do no good to worry," and Mrs. Webb hurried away leaving Meg in a state of miserable excitement. And now she stood before the looking-glass arranging her hair under her hat. She was sorry that she had nothing better to put on for the occasion than her tweed coat and skirt, for these, having been drenched with showers more than once and worn at all times, began to look somewhat shabby, and her hat was certainly the worse for wear. But these were minor matters. It was the nervous fright in which she found herself that was her chief trouble. She had sung over her song to Mrs. Webb and to Willie, but finding that her voice was rather weak had not ventured to sing it more than once and felt terribly out of practice. However, she knew that there was now no drawing back, so set out for the schoolroom at a quarter before eight o'clock. Mrs. Webb was on one side of her and Willie on the other. His mother was allowing him, for a treat, to stop up late so as to hear Meg sing, and the boy was full of excitement. Arrived at the schoolroom they found it filling fast, and on the platform Meg saw the Rector in conversation with one or two of those who were going to take part. There was to be a reading as well as music, and a short address on Temperance. When Mr. Wentworth caught sight of Meg he came to meet her and showed her to a seat just below the platform, where she could have Mrs. Webb and Willie by her side. As the evening wore on the girl grew accustomed to her surroundings. The audience was not a formidable one; in fact she looked around her rather disappointed, as there seemed few in the room who could possibly afford singing lessons, so that she feared, as far as her future was concerned, the meeting might not be much of a help. But this fact, though it was disappointing, helped to restore her nerve. It was pleasant to know that she could give pleasure. So when at last Mr. Wentworth called upon her to sing, she was relieved to find that she was not so fearful as she had expected to be.