Betty jumped to her feet. "What's that?" she cried. "A telegram?"
Mrs. Gascoigne entered the room holding an orange-coloured envelope and
handed it to Eileen Cavendish. "Yours is at your lodging," she said to
Betty. Her face was very pale.
With trembling fingers Mrs. Cavendish tore open the envelope. She gave a quick glance at the contents and sat down abruptly. Then, with her hands at her side, burst into peals of hysterical laughter.
"Oh," she cried, "it's all right, it's all right! Bill's safe——" and her laughter turned to tears. "And I knew it all along…" she sobbed.
"Oh," said Betty, "I am glad." She slipped her arm round Mrs.
Cavendish's neck and kissed her. "And now I'm just going to rush up to
my rooms to get my message." She paused on her way to the door. "Mrs.
Gascoigne," she said, "did you get any news—is your husband all right?"
Mrs. Gascoigne was opening the window with her back to the room and its occupants. "He's very happy," she replied gently.
Betty ran out into the sunlit street and overtook the red-headed urchin who was returning to the post office with the demeanour of a man suddenly thrust into unaccustomed prominence in the world. Furthermore, he had found the stump of a cigarette in the gutter, and was smoking it with an air.
He grinned reassuringly at Betty as she hurried breathlessly past him.
"Dinna fash yersel', Mistress," he called. "Yeer man's bonny an' weel."
Betty halted irresolutely. "How do you know?" she gasped.
"A juist keeked inside the bit envelope," came the unblushing reply.
* * * * *