Marigold picked it up.
The diversion of the telegraph boy had checked Mrs.Tufton's eloquence and compelled the idle interest of the neighbours.

I cried out from the car: "What's the matter ?" But I don't think Betty heard me.

She recovered herself, took the telegram from Marigold, and showed it to the woman.
"Read it," said Betty, in a strange, hard voice.

"This is to tell me that my husband was killed yesterday in France.

Go on your knees and thank God that you have a brave husband still alive and pray that you may be worthy of him." She went into the house and in a moment reappeared like a ghost of steel, carrying the disputed canvas kit-bag over her shoulder.