Erb reached Page’s Walk, having tried ineffectually to walk himself into a good humour, and found Louisa with a round spot of colour high up on either cheek, looking out of the window of the model dwellings and hailing him excitedly.
“Put that ’ead of yours in,” he counselled. “You’ll go and catch cold.”
“You won’t catch much,” retorted Louisa, “if you don’t arrange to be on ’and when wanted. ’Urry upstairs, I’ve got something to tell you that can’t be bawled.”
Erb ran up the stone stairs, and Louisa met him at the door of the sitting-room, her eyes bigger than ever with the importance. The room had a slight perfume of violets.
“Who d’you think’s been ’ere?”
“Tell us,” said Erb.
“But guess,” begged Louisa, enjoying the power that was hers.
“Can’t guess.”
“Lady Frances,” said Louisa, in an impressive whisper.
“Well,” remarked Erb curtly, “what of it?”