"The first thing to be done, it seems to me, is for you to go to the Rue Verte to tell the Nestors—Madame Nestor, that is to say—where these little people are. She will be very uneasy, I fear, poor woman."
"Anna won't tell her, I don't think," said Gladys. "Poor Mrs. Nest—she is so kind. I shouldn't like her to be unhappy."
"And," continued the lady, "you must ask for the children's clothes."
Gladys's eyes glistened.
"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.