No doubt the subject of discussion in the inner room was the disaster!...
Yes, she was acutely and happily excited.

And always afterwards, when she heard or saw the sinister word 'Majuba' (whose political associations never in the least interested her), she would recall her contradictory, delicious feelings on that dramatic afternoon.
While she was busily cutting out the news from the _Telegraph_ to be ready for Arthur Dayson, there was a very timid knock at the door, and Florrie entered, as into some formidable cabinet of tyrannic rulers.
"If you please, miss--" she began to whisper.
"Why, Florrie," Hilda exclaimed, "what have you put that old skirt on for, when I've given you mine?
I told you--" "I did put it on, miss.

But there came a telegram.

I told the boy you were here, but he said that wasn't no affair of his, so I brought it myself, and I thought you wouldn't care for to see me in your skirt, miss, not while on duty, miss, 'specially here like! So I up quick and changed it back." "Telegram ?" Hilda repeated the word.
Florrie, breathless after running and all this whispering, advanced in the prettiest confusion towards the throne, and Hilda took the telegram with a gesture as casual as she could manage.

Florrie's abashed mien, and the arrival of the telegram, stiffened her back and steadied her hand.