"Mr. Marton will give the address at the station, in case your Papa inquires there, as he very likely would, if a lady and gentleman and two children arrived there from England this morning. And he will also leave the address here, for so many people come here from the station. And when we get to Marseilles, we will at once go to the hotel where he was—where he is still, perhaps; if he has left, he is pretty sure to have given an address."
"And if he's not there—if you can't find him—what will you do then?" said Gladys, opening wide her eyes and gazing up in her friend's face.
Mrs. Marton hesitated.
"I suppose if we really could not find your father at once, we should have to write or telegraph to Miss Susan."
Gladys looked more distressed than she had yet done.
"Don't do that, please," she said, clasping her hands together in the way she sometimes did. "I'd much rather stay here a little longer till Papa comes. It would be such a trouble to Miss Susan—I know she did think we were a great trouble sometimes—and it would make Mrs. Lacy cry perhaps to have to say good-bye again, and she's so ill."
"Yes, I know she is," said Mrs. Marton, surprised at the little girl's thoughtfulness. "But you know, dear, we'd have to let them know, and then most likely they'd send over for you."
"But Papa's sure to come," said Gladys. "It would only be waiting a little, and I don't mind much, and I don't think Roger will, not if I'm with him. Will they be kind to us, do you think, those friends of Léonie's?"