"Do you mean, are you going to let us stay here?" she said; "I mean till to-morrow, perhaps, till Miss Susan can come?"
"Where else could you go, my dears?" said Auntie kindly.
"I don't know; I--I thought perhaps you'd get us a little room somewhere, and Miss Susan would pay it when she comes. I thought perhaps you'd send her a tele--, you know what I mean, and perhaps she could come for us that way. It's so quick, only it costs a great deal, doesn't it?"
Auntie and Rosamond had hard work to prevent themselves laughing at this queer idea of Gladys's, but when her mistake was explained to her, she took it very philosophically.
"Then do you think I should write to Miss Susan to-day?" said Gladys. "_You'll_ help me, won't you?" she added, turning to Rosamond. "I don't know very well how to write the address."
"Of course I will help you, dear," said Rosamond, but her aunt interrupted.
"I do not think little Gladys need write to-night," she said. "Indeed, perhaps it may be as well for me to write for her to the lady she speaks of. But now, Walter, you had better go off at once, and bring back the children's belongings with you. What were you going to say, dear?" for Gladys seemed as if she were going to speak.
"Anna said once that she would sell our big trunk and all our best clothes--I mean she said Mrs. Nest would--to get money for all we had cost them. But I'm sure Mrs. Nest wouldn't. And when Papa comes he'll pay everything."
"Try and bring away everything with you," she said. "Take Louis, so that he may help to carry out the boxes. Do your best anyway."
It turned out easier than Auntie had feared, for Walter found Adolphe Nestor already returned, and in a state of frantic anxiety about the children. Knowing that they could not be in better hands than those in which they had placed themselves, he was only too thankful to let them remain there, and gave Walter all the information he could about Mr. and Mrs. Marton, who had confided the children to his mother's care.
"She can tell you all about the family better than I," he said. "I think even she has the address of Madame Marton's mother, where her cousin was so long nurse. Oh, they are in every way most respectable, and indeed one can see by the children themselves that they are little gentlepeople. There must be something sadly amiss for the father not to have come for them. I fear even that he is perhaps dead."