"No, dear," she said, "she's not your nurse. She is Léonie's aunt, and she's going to take care of you for a few days till your Papa comes. And she says she will be very, very kind to you."
But Roger looked doubtful.
"Why doesn't she talk p'operly?" he said, drawing back.
Mrs. Marton looked rather distressed. In the hurry and confusion she had not thought of this other difficulty—that the children would not understand what their new friends said to them! Gladys seemed to feel by instinct what Mrs. Marton was thinking.
"I'll try to learn French," she said softly, "and then I can tell Roger."
Léonie pressed forward.
"Is she not a dear child?" she said, and then she quickly explained to her aunt what Gladys had whispered. The old lady seemed greatly pleased.
"My son speaks a little English," she said, with evident pride. "He is not at home now, but in the evening, when he is not busy, he must talk with our little demoiselle."
"That's a good thing," exclaimed Mr. Marton, who felt the greatest sympathy with Roger, for his own French would have been sadly at fault had he had to say more than two or three words in it.