Pigott went upstairs far too rapidly for a person of her size and years, with the result that when she reached their room, where Angela was waiting half dead with suspense, she could only gasp.
“Well,” said Angela, “be quick and tell me.”
“Oh, Lord! them stairs!” gasped Pigott.
“For pity’s sake, tell me the worst!”
“Now, miss, do give a body time, and don’t be a fool—begging pardon for——”
“Oh, Pigott, you are torturing me!”
“Well, miss, you muddle me so—but I am coming to it. I went down them dratted stairs, and there I see a wonderful nice-looking party with a baby.”
“For God’s sake tell me—is Arthur married?”
“Why, no, dearie—of course not. I was just a-going to say——”
But whatever valuable remark Pigott was going to make was lost to the world for ever, for Angela flung her arms round her neck and began kissing her.