When she had said good-bye, Margaret fled to the telephone. She had so much to do and arrange that she had to go from one thing to another as fast as she could. She rang up the rooms in Clarges Street where she knew that Hadassah Ireton was going to stay. She ought to have arrived that afternoon. When at last she got on to the right number, she was answered by the husband of the landlady, an ex-butler, and an admirable maître de cuisine.
"Has Mrs. Ireton arrived yet?" Margaret asked.
"Yes, she arrived at five o'clock. Who shall I say speaking?"
"Ask her if she can speak to Miss Lampton, please, for a few minutes.
Will you tell her that it is very urgent?"
The next minute Margaret heard Hadassah's voice.
"Hallo! Miss Lampton, is that you?"
"Yes," Margaret said. "But, please, not Miss Lampton!"
"Well, Margaret—I always think of you as Margaret. How nice of you to ring me up and welcome me to London!"
"Hadassah," Margaret said breathlessly; her heart was beating with her news; she spoke rather loudly, "I rang you up to tell you that I'm going to be married the day after tomorrow!"
Hadassah heard Margaret sigh even through the telephone. It was a sigh of pent-up emotion, an expression of relief.