FROM BAD TO WORSE.
"Their hearts were laden
With sorrow, surprise, and fear."
PRINCESS BOPEEP.
Nobody came to wake the children the next morning. They slept later than
usual, and when Gladys woke it was already as light as ever it was in
the dull little room. But it was very cold--the weather had turned to
frost in the night, which made the air clearer and brighter, and in
their own warm rooms at Mrs. Lacy's the children would have rejoiced at
the change. Here it was very different.
Gladys lay waiting some time, wondering if no one was coming with their
chocolate and bread, forgetting at first all that had happened the day
before. By degrees it came back to her mind, and then she was no longer
surprised at their being left alone.
"Anna has come back," she thought to herself, "and she won't let them
bring us our breakfast."
She got out of bed, glad to see that Roger was still sleeping, and
crossed the room, the cold wooden floor striking chill to her bare feet.
She reached the door and opened it, peering down the narrow dark
staircase.
"Françoise," she called softly, for the kitchen was nearer than the
workroom, and she hoped perhaps Françoise would come to her without Anna
knowing. But no one answered. She heard voices in the distance--in the
kitchen they seemed to be--and soon she fancied that she distinguished
the sharp tones of Mademoiselle Anna, ordering about the poor little
cook. Gladys quickly but softly shut the door and crossed the room again
on tiptoes. She stood for a moment or two hesitating what to do. It was
so cold that she felt half inclined to curl herself up in bed again and
try to go to sleep! But if Roger woke, as he was sure to do soon--no,
the best thing was for her to get dressed as quickly as possible. She
bravely sponged herself as well as she could with the cold water, which
was now always left in the room in a little jug; "no chance of any _hot_
water to-day!" she thought to herself as she remembered how unhappy she
had been that first morning at not having a bath, and then went on to
dress, though not without a good deal of difficulty, as several of her
little under-garments fastened behind. Not till the last button was
secured did Roger wake.
"Gladdie," he said in a sleepy tone, "are you dressed. We haven't had
our chocolate, Gladdie."
"Never mind, Roger dear," said Gladys. "They're all very busy to-day,
you know, so I've got up and dressed quickly, and now I'll go down and
bring up your breakfast. Unless you'd rather get up first?"
Roger considered. He was in rather a lazy mood, which was perhaps just
as well.
"No," he decided. "I'll have my breakfast first. And you can eat yours
beside me, can't you, Gladdie?"
"Yes," said Gladys, "that will be very nice."
She spoke with a cheerfulness she was far from feeling, for in her heart
she felt by no means sure of getting any breakfast at all. But just as
she was turning to go a slight knocking was heard at the door. It was
more like a scratching indeed, as if the person were afraid of being
heard outside as well as by those in the room.
"Mademoiselle," came in a loud whisper after the queer rapping had gone
on for some time, "are you awake? Open--I have the hands full."
It was Françoise. Gladys opened. The little servant, her round red face
rounder and redder than usual, for she had been all the morning at the
kitchen fire, and had besides been passing through unusual excitement,
stumped into the room, a bowl, from which the steam of some hot liquid
was rising, in one hand, and a plate with a large hunch of bread in the
other.
She put them down on the little table and wiped her hot face with her
apron.
"Ah, Mademoiselle," she said, "no one would believe it--the trouble I
have had to get some breakfast for you! _She_ would not have it--lazy
little creatures, she called you--you might come down and get it for
yourselves--a piece of dry bread and some dripping soup--that was all
she would have given you, and I know you are not used to that. So what
did I do but wait till her back was turned--the cross cat--and then in
with the milk and a tiny bit of chocolate--all I could find, and here it
is! Hot, at any rate; but not very good, I fear."
Gladys did not, of course, understand a quarter of the words which
Françoise rattled off in her queer Norman-French; but her wits were
sharpened by anxiety, and she gathered quite enough of the sense of the
little servant's long speech to feel very grateful to her. In her hurry
Françoise had poured all the chocolate--or hot milk rather, for there
was very little chocolate in the composition--into one bowl; but the
children were too hungry to be particular. They drank turn-about, and
finished by crumbling up the remains of the bread in the remains of the
milk and eating it with the spoon, turn-about also, Françoise standing
by, watching them with satisfaction! Suddenly she started.
"I must run down," she said, "or she will be after me again. I wish I
could stay to help you to dress Monsieur Roger, but I dare not," and
gathering up the dishes in her apron so that they could not be seen, she
turned to go.
"Dress him as quickly as you can," she said to Gladys, "and then she
cannot say you have given any trouble. But stay--I will see if I cannot
get you a little hot water for the poor bébé."
And off she set, to appear again in a minute with a tin jug of hot water
which she poured out into the basin at once for fear the absence of the
tin jug should be discovered.
"She has eyes on every side of her head," she whispered as she went off
again.
Roger's toilet was accomplished more luxuriously than poor Gladys's own,
and he was quite bright and happy with no fear of Mademoiselle Anna or
any one else, chirping like a little bird, as his sister took him down
the narrow staircase to the room behind the shop where they spent the
mornings.
"Hush, Roger dear, we must be very quiet because poor Mrs. Nest is ill,
you know," she said, when his shrill little voice rose higher and
higher, for he had had an exceedingly good night and felt in excellent
spirits.
"She can't hear us down here," replied Roger. But Gladys still repeated
her "hush," for, in reality, it was Anna who she feared might overhear
Roger's chatter. She looked about for something to keep him quiet, but
could see nothing. It was warm in the sitting-room--though if Anna could
have done so, she would have ordered Françoise not to light the fire for
the little plagues, as she called them--but except for that they would
have been happier up in their bedroom, where Gladys had discovered a
few of Roger's toys in a corner of the big trunk, which, however, Madame
Nest had not allowed them to bring down.
"When the Papa comes, I wish him to find all your things in good order,"
she had said. "The toys might get broken, so while you are here I will
find you things to amuse you."
But this morning the bundle of cretonne and cut-out birds and flowers
was not to be seen!
"I must tell Roger stories all the morning, I suppose," thought Gladys,
and she was just going to propose doing so, when Roger, who had been
standing peeping through the glass door which led into the shop,
suddenly gave a cry of pleasure.
"Oh, Gladdie," he said, "see what a pretty carriage and two prancey
horses at the door!"
Gladys ran to look--the shop door was wide open, for one of the
apprentice boys was sweeping it out, and they could see right into the
street. The carriage had stopped, as Roger said, and out of it stepped
one of two people seated in it. It was the younger of the two ladies
that the children had seen that first day in the Rue Verte when they
were hidden behind the blue sofa in the corner.
She came forward into the shop.
"Is there no one here?" she said in French.
The apprentice, very dusty and looking rather ashamed, came out of a
corner. It was not often that ladies in grand carriages came themselves
to the little shop, for though the Nestors had some very good customers,
Monsieur Adolphe usually went himself to their houses for orders.
"I will call some one," said the boy, "if Mademoiselle will have the
goodness to wait a moment," and he disappeared through a little door in
the corner of the shop which led into the workroom another way.
The young lady shivered a little--it was very cold--and then walked
about, glancing at the furniture now and then. She seemed to think it
too cold to sit down. There was certainly no dearth of chairs!
"I wonder if we should ask her to come in here," said Gladys. But before
she had time to decide, the door by which the boy had gone out opened
again and Mademoiselle Anna appeared. She came forward with the most
gracious manner and sweetest smiles imaginable. Gladys, who had never
seen her like that, felt quite amazed.
The young lady received Anna's civilities very calmly. She had never
seen her before, and thought her rather a vulgar young woman. But when
Anna begged her to come for a moment into the sitting-room while she
went to fetch the patterns the young lady had come for she did not
refuse.
"It is certainly bitterly cold this morning," she said.
"And we are all so upset--by the sad accident to our poor dear
Madame--Mademoiselle must excuse us," said Anna, leading the way to the
sitting-room as she spoke.
Rosamond stopped short.
"An accident to that good Madame Nestor. I am very sorry," she
exclaimed.
[Illustration: Anna opened the door sharply, as she did everything, and
in so doing overthrew the small person of Roger.]
"Ah, yes," Anna went on in her honeyed tones, "it is really too sad. It
was--but will not Mademoiselle come out of the cold, and I will tell her
about it," she went on, backing towards the glass door. It opened
inwards; the children, very much interested in watching the little scene
in the shop, and not quite understanding Anna's intention, had not
thought of getting out of the way. Anna opened the door sharply, as she
did everything, and in so doing overthrew the small person of Roger,
whose short fat legs were less agile than the longer and thinner ones
of his sister. Gladys sprang away like a kitten, but only to spring back
again the next moment, as a doleful cry rose from poor Roger.
"You're not hurt, darling, are you?" she said, as she knelt down to pick
him up.
Roger went on crying softly. He preferred to take his time about
deciding that he wasn't hurt. And in the meantime the stranger young
lady had come into the room and was looking round her in some surprise.
"Has the little boy fallen down?" she asked in French. "Poor little
fellow! Are they Madame Nestor's grandchildren?"
"Oh dear, no," replied Anna, casting a contemptuous glance at Gladys and
Roger, who, crouching on the floor in a corner of the always dusky
little room, could not be very clearly distinguished. "Get up,"
continued she, turning to them, "get up at once and go to your own
room."
Frightened by her tone and by Roger's continued sobbing, Gladys dragged
him up from the floor as well as she could, and escaped with him by the
door leading upstairs, near to which they happened to be. Something in
the sudden change of Anna's tone roused the young lady's suspicions.
"Who are they, then?" she asked again. "And are you sure the little boy
is not hurt?"
"He cries for nothing, Mademoiselle--he is always crying. They are
children our good Madame has taken in out of charity; it is very
difficult to manage with them just now, poor little things. They have
been so neglected and are so troublesome; but we must do our best till
our dear Madame gets better," and then she went on into a long
description of the accident, how she herself had just gone to spend two
days with her sister, whom she had not seen for years, when she had been
recalled, etc., etc., all told so cleverly that Rosamond went away,
thinking that after all she must be a very good sort of young woman, and
that it was not right to yield to prejudice. Yet still she could not
quite forget the glimpse she had had of the two little creatures taken
in "out of charity," and the sound of Roger's stifled sobs.
Gladys and he stayed upstairs till they were called down to "déjeûner."
It was cold, but they minded the cold less than sharp words and unkind
looks. Gladys wrapped Roger up in a shawl and pulled a blanket off the
bed for herself, and then they both cuddled down together in a corner,
and she told him all the stories she could think of. By twelve o'clock
they were very hungry, for in spite of Françoise's endeavours they had
had much less breakfast than usual, but they had no idea what time it
was, and were too frightened to go down, and there they would have
stayed, all day perhaps, if Adolphe, reminded of them by his poor
mother's constant questions, had not sent one of the apprentice boys to
fetch them down, and meek and trembling the two poor little things
entered the long narrow room where all the members of the household were
seated round the table.
But there was no kindly welcome for them as at dinner the day before.
Monsieur Adolphe's usually good-humoured face looked worried and vexed.
"Sit down and take your food," he said coldly. "I am very sorry to hear
from Mademoiselle Anna how troublesome you have been this morning. I
thought you, Mademoiselle, as so much older than your brother, who is
really only a baby, would have tried to keep him quiet for the sake of
my poor mother."
Gladys's face turned scarlet; at first she could scarcely believe that
she had heard aright, for it was very difficult to understand the young
man's bad English, but a glance at his face showed her she was not
mistaken. She clasped her hands in a sort of despair.
"Oh, Mr. 'Dolph," she said, "how can you think we would be so naughty?
It was only that Roger fell down, and that made him cry."
"Do not listen to her," said Anna in a hard indifferent tone, "naughty
children always make excuses."
But the sight of the real misery in Gladys's face was too much for
kind-hearted Adolphe. He noticed, too, that both she and Roger were
looking pale and pinched with cold, and he had his own doubts as to
Anna's truthfulness, though he was too much under her to venture to
contradict her.
"Don't cry, my child," he said kindly. "Try to be very good and quiet
the rest of the day, and eat your déjeûner now."
Gladys made a valiant effort to choke down her tears.
"Is Mrs. Nest better to-day," she asked.
The son shook his head.
"I fear not," he replied sadly; "she has a great deal of fever. And I
am, unfortunately, obliged to go into the country for a day or two about
some important business."
"You are going away! oh, Mr. 'Dolph, there will be no one to take care
of us," cried Gladys, the tears rushing to her eyes again.
The young man was touched by her distress.
"Oh yes, yes," he said; "they will all be very kind to you. I will speak
to them, and I shall be soon back again, and you and my little Roger
will be very good, I am sure."
There was nothing more to be said. Gladys tried to go on eating, though
her hunger had quite left her, and it was difficult to swallow anything
without crying again. Only one thought grew clearer in her mind--"I must
write to Miss Susan."
During the rest of the meal Adolphe kept talking to Anna about the work
and other things to be seen to while he was away.
"You must be sure to send to-morrow early to put up those curtains at
the English ladies'--9 Avenue Gérard."
"9 Avenue Gérard--that is their new house," said Anna, and the address,
which she had already heard twice repeated, caught Gladys's ear.
"And tell the one who goes to ask for the patterns back--those the young
lady took away to-day. Oh, by the bye, did she see the children?" asked
Adolphe.
"No, you may be sure. That is to say, I hurried them out of the way,
forward little things. It was just the moment she was here, that he, the
bébé there, chose for bursting out crying," replied Anna.
"I hope she did not go away with the idea they were not kindly treated,"
said Adolphe, looking displeased.
"She thought nothing about them--she hardly caught sight of them."
"She did not see that they were English--her country-people?"
"Certainly not," replied Anna. "Do you think I have no more sense than
to bother all your customers with the history of any little beggars your
mother chooses to take in?"
"I was not speaking of all the customers--I was speaking of those
English ladies who might have taken an interest in these children,
because they too are English--or at least have given us some advice what
to do. I have already been thinking of asking them. But now it may be
too late if they saw the children crying and you scolding them; no
doubt, they will either think they are naughty disagreeable children or
that we are unkind to them. Either will do harm. You have made a great
mistake."
He got up and left the room, afraid perhaps of saying more, for at this
moment he could not afford to quarrel with Anna. Poor man, his troubles
seemed to be coming on him all at once! Gladys understood very little of
what they were saying, but she saw that Adolphe was not pleased with
Mademoiselle Anna, and it made her fear that Anna would be still crosser
to Roger or her. But she took no notice of them, and when they had
finished she called Françoise, and told her to take them into the
sitting-room and make up the fire.
"P'raps she's going to be kind now, Gladdie," said Roger, with the happy
hopefulness of his age. But Gladys shook her head.
Monsieur Adolphe set off that afternoon.
For the first day or two things went on rather better than Gladys had
expected. Anna had had a fright, and did not dare actually to neglect or
ill-treat the children. So Gladys put off writing to Miss Susan, which,
as you know, she had the greatest dislike to doing till she saw how
things went on. Besides this same writing was no such easy matter for
her. She had neither pen, ink, nor paper--she was not sure how to spell
the address, and she had not a halfpenny of money! Very likely if she
had spoken of her idea to Adolphe he would have been only too glad for
her to write, but Anna was a very different person to deal with.
"If I asked her for paper and a pen she would very likely scold me--very
likely she wouldn't like me to write while Mr. 'Dolph is away, for fear
he should think she had been unkind and that that had made me do it,"
reflected Gladys, whose wits were much sharpened by trouble. "And I
_daren't_ make her angry while we're alone with her."
Thus the letter was deferred. Things might possibly have gone smoothly
till Adolphe's return, for Anna _wished_ to avoid any upset now she saw
how strongly the Nestors felt on the subject. But unfortunately
bad-tempered people cannot always control themselves to act as their
common sense tells them would be best even for themselves. And
Mademoiselle Anna had a very bad and violent temper, which often got
quite the mastery of her.
So the calm did not last long.