Two Little Waifs Part 11

Of course--of course--Madame Nestor agreed to everything as amiably as possible, and the ladies turned to go.

"Are you much troubled with mice?" said the younger lady as they were leaving. "I have heard queer little noises two or three times over in that corner near the blue sofa while we were speaking."

Old Madame Nestor started.

"Mice!" she exclaimed. "I hope not. It would be very serious for us--with so many beautiful stuffs about. I must make them examine, and if necessary get a cat. We have not had a cat lately--the last was stolen, she was such a beauty, and----"

And on the old body would have chattered for another half-hour, I daresay, had not the ladies again repeated that they were very hurried and must hasten home.

The idea of mice had taken hold of Madame Nestor's mind; it made her for the moment forget the children, though in pa.s.sing through the little room where she had left them she had wondered where they were. She hurried into the workroom to relate her fears, and Gladys and Roger, as soon as she had left the shop, jumped up, not sorry to stretch their legs after having kept them still for nearly a quarter of an hour.

"I wonder if she'd be angry at our playing here," said Gladys. "What fun it was hiding and those ladies not knowing we were there! I think they were nice ladies, but I wish they had kept on talking properly. I liked to hear what they said."

"Why doesn't everybody talk properly here if some does?" asked Roger.

"I suppose," said Gladys, though she had not thought of it before, it had seemed so natural to hear people talking as she had always heard people talk--"I suppose those ladies are English. I wish they had talked to _us_, Roger. Perhaps they know Papa."

"They couldn't talk to us when they didn't know us was there," said Roger, with which Gladys could not disagree. But it made her feel rather sorry not to have spoken to the ladies--it would have been very nice to have found some one who could understand what they said.

"I wish we hadn't been hiding," she was going to say, but she was stopped by a great bustle which began to make itself heard in the sitting-room, and suddenly the door into the shop opened, and in rushed Madame Nestor, followed by the servant and two or three of the workpeople.

"Where are they, then? Where can they have gone, the poor little angels?" exclaimed the old lady, while the servant and the others ran after her repeating:

"Calm yourself, Madame, calm yourself. They cannot have strayed far--they will be found."

Though the children could not understand the words, they could not _mis_understand the looks and the tones, and, above all, the distress in their kind old friend's face. They were still half hidden, though they were no longer crouching down on the floor. Out ran Gladys, followed by Roger.

"Are you looking for us, Mrs. Nest?" she said. "Here we are! We've only been playing at hiding among the chairs and sofas."

Madame Nestor sank down exhausted on the nearest arm-chair.

"Oh, but you have given me a fright," she panted out. "I could not imagine where they had gone," she went on, turning to the others. "I left them as quiet as two little mice in there," pointing to the sitting-room, "and the moment my back was turned off they set."

"It is always like that with children," said Mademoiselle Anna, the forewoman. She was a young woman with very black hair and very black eyes and a very haughty expression. No one liked her much in the workroom--she was so sharp and so unamiable. But she was very clever at making curtains and covering chairs and sofas, and she had very good taste, so Madame Nestor, who was, besides, the kindest woman in the world, kept her, though she disliked her temper and pride.

"Poor little things--we have all been children in our day," said Madame Nestor.

"That is possible," replied Mademoiselle Anna, "but all the same, there are children and children. I told you, Madame, and you will see I was right; you do not know the trouble you will have with these two little foreigners--brought up who knows how--and a queer story altogether it seems to me," she added, with a toss of her head.

Gladys and Roger had drawn near Madame Nestor. Gladys was truly sorry to see how frightened their old friend had been, and she wished she knew how to say so to her. But when Mademoiselle Anna went on talking, throwing disdainful glances in their direction, the children shrank back. They could not understand what she was saying, but they _felt_ she was talking of them, and they had already noticed her sharp unkindly glances the evening before.

"Why is she angry with us?" whispered Roger.

But Gladys shook her head. "I don't know," she replied. "She isn't as kind as Mrs. Nest and her son. Oh I do wish Papa would come for us, Roger!"

"So do I," said the little fellow.

But five minutes after, he had forgotten their troubles, for Madame Nestor took them into the long narrow room where she and her son and some of their workpeople had their meals, and established them at one end of the table, to have what _she_ called their "breakfast," but what to the children seemed their dinner. She was very kind to them, and gave them what she thought they would like best to eat, and some things, especially an omelette, they found very good. But the meat they did not care about.

"It's so greasy, I can't eat it," said Gladys, after doing her best for fear Madame Nestor should think her rude. And Roger, who did not so much mind the greasiness of the gravy, could not eat it either because it was cooked with carrots, to which he had a particular dislike. They were not dainty children generally, but the stuffy room, and the different kind of cooking, and above all, perhaps, the want of their usual morning walk, seemed to take away their appet.i.te. And the sight of Mademoiselle Anna's sharp contemptuous face across the table did not mend matters.

"I wish we had some plain cold meat and potatoes," said Gladys, "like what we had at home. I could even like some nice plain bread and b.u.t.ter."

"Not _this_ bread," said Roger, who was beginning to look doleful again.

"I don't like the taste of this bread."

So they both sat, watching all that was going on, but eating nothing themselves, till Madame Nestor, who had been busy carving, caught sight of them.

"They do not eat, those poor dears," she said to her son; "I fear the food is not what they are accustomed to--but I cannot understand them nor they me. It is too sad! Can you not try to find out what they would like, Adolphe? You who speak English?"

Monsieur Adolphe got very red; he was not generally shy, but his English, which he was rather given to boasting of when there was no need for using it, seemed less ready than his mother had expected. However, like her, he was very kind-hearted, and the sight of the two grave pale little faces troubled him. He went round to their side of the table.

"You not eat?" he said. "Miss and Sir not eat nothing. Find not good?"

Gladys's face brightened. It was something to have some one who understood a little, however little.

"Oh yes," she said, timidly afraid of appearing uncivil, "it is very good; but we are not hungry. We are not accustomed to rich things. Might we--" she went on timidly, "do you think we might have a little bread and b.u.t.ter?"

Monsieur Adolphe hesitated. He found it much more difficult than he had had any idea of to understand what Gladys said, though she spoke very plainly and clearly.

"Leetle--leetle?" he repeated.

"A little bread and b.u.t.ter," said Gladys again. This time he understood.

"Bread and b.u.t.ter; I will go see," he answered, and then he hurried back to his mother, still busy at the side-table.

"They do not seem accustomed to eat meat," he said, "they ask for bread and b.u.t.ter."

"The greedy little things!" exclaimed Mademoiselle Anna, who had got up from her seat on pretence of handing a plate to Madame Nestor, but in reality to hear all that was going on. "How can they be so bold?"

"It is the custom in England," said the old lady. "My cousin has often told me how the children there eat so much bread and b.u.t.ter. But I have no fresh b.u.t.ter in the house. Would not preserves please them? Here, Francoise," she went on, calling to the little servant. "Fetch some preserves from the cupboard, and give some with some bread to the poor little angels."

"What a to-do to be sure!" muttered Anna to Adolphe. "I only hope your mother will be paid for the trouble she is giving herself, but I much doubt it. I believe it is all a trick to get rid of the two little plagues. English of the good cla.s.ses do not leave their children to anybody's tender mercies in that way!"

"That is true," said Adolphe, who, though he had a good deal of his mother's kind-heartedness, was easily impressed by what Anna said. "And they have certainly a curious accent. I had difficulty in understanding them. I never heard an accent like it in English."

"Exactly," said Anna, tossing her head, "they are little cheats--no one will come for them, and no money will be sent. You will see--and so will your mother. But it will be too late. She should have thought twice before taking on herself such a charge."

"I am quite of your opinion," said Adolphe. "Something must be done; my mother must be made to hear reason. If no one comes to fetch them in a day or two we must do something--even if I have to take them myself to the English Emba.s.sy."

"Quite right, quite right, Monsieur Adolphe," said Anna spitefully.

But Madame Nestor heard nothing of what they were saying. She was seated quite contentedly beside the children, happy to see them enjoying the bread and jam which they much preferred to the greasy meat, even though the bread tasted a little sour, though she could not persuade them to take any wine.

"It isn't good for children," said Gladys gravely, looking up into her face. But poor Madame Nestor shook her head.

"It is no use, my dears," she said in her own language. "I cannot understand! Dear me--I do wish the Papa would come. Poor dear angels--I fear I cannot make them happy! But at least I can wash up the dishes for Francoise and let her take them out a walk. You will like that--a nice promenade, will you not?"