"We saw them," said Gladys, smiling, "but they did not see us. They thought we were mice," but the dictionary had to be fetched before Adolphe could make out what "mice" meant, even though Roger turned it into "mouses" to make it plainer. And then he had to hurry off—it was a long way, he said, in the Avenue Gérard, close to the Champs Elysées, that these ladies lived.
"Avenue Gérard," repeated Gladys, in the idle way children sometimes catch up a name; "that's not hard to say. We say avenue in English too. It means a road with lots of trees. Are there lots of trees where those ladies live, Mr. 'Dolph?"
But "Mr. 'Dolph" had departed.
After these bright days came again some dreary autumn weather. The children "wearied," as Scotch people say, a good deal. They were even glad on the fourth day to be sent out a short walk with Françoise.
"I wonder if we shall see that nice gentleman again if we go up that big street?" said Roger.
"I don't think we shall," said Gladys. "Most likely he doesn't live there. And it's a great many days ago. Perhaps he's gone back to England."
It was indeed by this time nearly a fortnight that the little waifs had found refuge in the Rue Verte.
The walk turned out less disagreeable than their first one with Françoise. They did go up the Boulevard, where the servant had some commissions, but they did not meet the "nice gentleman." They came home, however, in very good spirits; for at the big grocer's shop, where Françoise had bought several things, one of the head men had given them each an orange. And chattering together about how they should eat them—whether it was nicest to suck them, or to cut them with a knife, or to peel them and divide them into what are familiarly called "pigs"—the two children, with Françoise just behind them, reached the shop in the Rue Verte.
The door stood open—that was a little unusual, but they did not stay to wonder at it, but ran in quickly, eager to show their oranges to their kind old friend. The door leading to the room behind the shop stood open also, and the children stopped short, for the room was full of people, all talking eagerly and seemingly much excited. There were all the workpeople and one or two neighbours, but neither Madame Nestor nor her son. Françoise, who had caught sight of the crowd and already overheard something of what they were saying, hurried forward, telling the children as she passed them to stay where they were, and frightened of they knew not what, the two little creatures took refuge in their old corner behind the blue sofa.
"What can it be?" said Gladys.