AMONG THE SOFAS AND CHAIRS.
"They wake to feel
That the world is a changeful place to live in,
And almost wonder if all is real."
LAVENDER LADY.
So it was rather a woe-begone looking little couple, crouching together
in the blanket, that met old Madame Nestor's eyes when, followed by the
little servant with the biggest basin the establishment boasted of, and
carrying herself a queer-shaped tin jug full of hot water and with a
good supply of nice white towels over her arm, she entered the room
again.
"How now, my little dears?" she exclaimed; "not crying, surely? Why,
there's nothing to cry for!"
Gladys wiped her eyes with the skirt of her little nightgown, and looked
up. She did not know what the old woman was saying, but her tone was as
kind as ever. It was very satisfactory, too, to see the basin, small as
it was, and still more, the plentiful hot water.
"Thank you, ma'am," said Gladys gravely, and nudging Roger to do the
same. Everybody, she had noticed the day before, had called the old lady
"madame," but that was the French for "ma'am" Léonie had told her, so
she stuck to her native colours.
"Thank you," repeated Roger, but without the "ma'am." "It sounds so
silly, nobody says it but servants," he maintained to Gladys, and no
doubt it mattered very little whether he said it or not, as Madame
Nestor didn't understand, though she was quick enough to see that her
little guests meant to say something civil and kind. And the washing was
accomplished--I cannot say without difficulty, for Roger tried to stand
in the basin and very nearly split it in two, and there was a great
splashing of water over the wooden floor--on the whole with success.
Poor Madame Nestor! When she had at last got her charges safely into
their various garments, she sat down on a chair by the bed and fairly
panted!
"It's much harder than cooking a dinner," she said to herself. "I can't
think how my cousin Marie could stand it, if they have this sort of
business every morning with English children. And five, six of them as
there are sometimes! The English are a curious nation."
But she turned as smilingly as ever to Gladys and Roger; and Gladys,
seeing that she was tired, and being sensible enough to understand that
the kind old woman was really giving herself a great deal of trouble for
their sake, went and stood close beside her, and gently stroked her, as
she sometimes used to do--when Miss Susan was not there, be it
remarked--to Mrs. Lacy.
"I wish I knew how to say 'thank you' in French," said Gladys to Roger.
But Madame Nestor had understood her.
"Little dear," she said in her own language, "she thinks I am tired."
The word caught Gladys's ear--"fatigued," she interrupted, "I know what
that means. Poor Mrs. Nest," she explained to her little brother, "she
says she's fatigued. I think we should kiss her, Roger," and both
children lifted up their soft fresh rosy lips to the old woman, which
was a language that needed no translation.
"Little dears," she repeated again, "but, all the same, I hope we shall
soon have some news from the Papa. Ah!" she interrupted herself; "but
there is the clock striking nine, and my breakfast not seen to. I must
hasten, but what to do with these angels while I am in the kitchen?"
"Take them with you; children are very fond of being in a kitchen when
they may," would have seemed a natural reply. But not to those who know
what a Paris kitchen is. Even those of large grand houses would astonish
many English children and big people, too, who have never happened to
see them, and Madame Nestor's kitchen was really no better than a
cupboard, and a cupboard more than half filled up with the stove, in and
on which everything was cooked. There could be no question of taking the
children into the kitchen, and the tiny room behind the shop was very
dark and dull. Still it was the only place, and thither their old friend
led them, telling them she must now go to cook the breakfast and they
must try to amuse themselves; in the afternoon she would perhaps send
them out a walk.
Two words in this were intelligible to Gladys.
"We are to be amused, Roger," she said, "and we are to promenade, that
means a walk where the band plays like at Whitebeach last summer. I
wonder where it can be?"
The glass door which led into the shop had a little curtain across it,
but one corner was loose. This Gladys soon discovered.
"See here, Roger," she said, "we can peep into the shop and see if any
one comes in. Won't that be fun?"
Roger took his turn of peeping.
"It aren't a pretty shop," he said, "it's all chairs and tables. I'd
like a toy-shop, Gladdie, wouldn't you?"
"It wouldn't be much good if we mightn't play with the toys," Gladys
replied. "But I'll tell you what, Roger, we might play at beautiful
games of houses in there. We could have that corner where there are the
pretty blue chairs for our drawing-room, and we might pay visits. Or I
might climb in there behind that big sofa and be a princess in a giant's
castle, and you might come and fight with the giant and get me out."
"And who'd be the giant?" asked Roger.
"Oh, we can _pretend_ him. I can make a dreadful _booing_ when I see you
coming, and you can pretend you see him. But you must have a sword.
What would do for a sword?" she went on, looking round. "They haven't
even a poker! I wish we had Miss Susan's umbrella."
"Here's one!" exclaimed Roger, spying the umbrella of Monsieur Adolphe,
Madame Nestor's son, in a corner of the room. It was still rather damp,
for poor Adolphe had had to come over in the heavy rain early that
morning from the neighbouring inn where he had slept, having, as you
know, given up his room to the two little strangers, and his mother
would have scolded him had she noticed that he had put it down all
dripping, though as the floor was a stone one it did not much matter.
And the children were not particular. They screwed up the wet folds and
buttoned the elastic, and then shouldering it, Roger felt quite ready to
fight the imaginary giant.
There was a little difficulty about opening the door into the shop, and
rather _too_ little about shutting it, for it closed with a spring, and
nearly snapped Roger and his umbrella in two. But he was none the worse
save a little bump on his head, which Gladys persuaded him not to cry
about. It would never do to cry about a knock when he was going to fight
the giant, she assured him, and then she set to work, planning the
castle and the way Roger was to come creeping through the forest,
represented by chairs and stools of every shape, so that he grew quite
interested and forgot all his troubles.
It really turned out a very amusing game, and when it was over they
tried hide-and-seek, which would have been famous fun--there were so
many hiding-holes among the bales of stuffs and pillows and uncovered
cushions lying about--if they had had one or two more to play at it with
them! But to playfellows they were little accustomed, so they did not
much miss them, and they played away contentedly enough, though quietly,
as was their habit. And so it came about that Madame Nestor never
doubted that they were in the little back-room where she had left them,
when a ring at the front door of the shop announced a customer.
This door was also half of glass, and when it was opened a bell rang.
Gladys and Roger were busy looking for new hiding-places when the sudden
sound of the bell startled them.
"Somebody's coming in," whispered Gladys; "Roger, let's hide. Don't let
them see us; we don't know who they are," and quick as thought she
stooped down in a corner, drawing her little brother in beside her.
From where they were they could peep out. Two ladies entered the shop,
one young and one much older. The face of the older one Gladys did not
distinctly see, or perhaps she did not much care to look at it, so
immediately did the younger one seize her fancy. She was very pretty and
pleasant-looking, with bright brown hair and sweet yet merry eyes, and
as she threw herself down on a seat which stood near the door, Gladys
was able to see that she was neatly and prettily dressed.
"Aren't you tired, Auntie?" she said to the other lady.
"A little. It is farther than I thought, and we have not much time. I
wonder what colour will be prettiest for the curtains, Rosamond?"
"The shade of blue on that sofa over in the corner is pretty," said the
young lady.
Gladys pinched Roger. It was precisely behind the blue-covered sofa that
they were hiding.
"I wish they would be quick," said the elder lady. "Perhaps they did not
hear the bell."
"Shall I go to the door and ring it again?" asked the one called
Rosamond.
"I don't know; perhaps it would be better to tap at the glass door
leading into the house. Madame Nestor sits in there, I fancy. She
generally comes out at that door."
"I don't fancy she is there now," said the young lady. "You see we have
come so early. It has generally been in the afternoon that we have come.
Madame Nestor is probably busy about her 'household avocations' at this
hour," she added, with a smile.
"I wonder what that means," whispered Gladys. "I suppose it means the
dinner."
Just at that moment the door opened, and Madame Nestor appeared, rather
in a flutter. She was so sorry to have kept the ladies waiting, and how
unfortunate! Her son had just gone to their house with the patterns for
the curtains. He would have sent yesterday to ask at what hour the
ladies would be at home, but they had all been so busy--an unexpected
arrival--and Madame Nestor would have gone on to give all the story of
Léonie's sudden visit to beg a shelter for the two little waifs, had not
the ladies, who knew of old the good dame's long stories, cut her short
as politely as they could.
"We are very hurried," said the one whom the young lady called "auntie."
"I think the best thing to be done is to get home as quickly as we can,
and perhaps we shall still find your son there; if not, he will no
doubt have left the patterns, so please tell him to try to come this
evening or to-morrow morning before twelve, for we must have the
curtains this week."
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 passing 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 appetite. 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
butter."
"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 butter?"
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 butter," said Gladys again. This time he understood.
"Bread and butter; 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 butter."
"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 butter. But I have
no fresh butter in the house. Would not preserves please them? Here,
Françoise," 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 classes 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 Embassy."
"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
Françoise and let her take them out a walk. You will like that--a nice
promenade, will you not?"
Gladys jumped up joyfully.
"The promenade, Roger--we're going to hear the band play. Won't that be
nice? Come let us go quick and get ready."
Madame Nestor was enchanted.