They got up from the floor, and hand in hand crept timidly towards the door. Françoise was still standing there, listening to Adolphe, who was talking to the two or three still standing there. Françoise turned at the sound of the children's footsteps, and raised a warning finger. But Gladys put her aside, with what "Walter" would have called her imperious air.
"Let us pass," she said. "I want to speak to Mr. 'Dolph."
The young man heard the sound of his own name.
"What is it?" he said quickly, in French.
"I want to know what's the matter. Is Mrs. Nest ill?" asked Gladys. But she had to repeat her question two or three times before Adolphe understood it He was flurried and distressed—indeed, his eyes looked as if he had been crying—and that made it more difficult for him to catch the meaning of the child's words. But at last he did so.
"Ah!" he exclaimed. "Yes, there is much the matter. My poor mother—she has fallen downstairs and broken her leg."
Gladys clasped her two hands together.
"Broken her leg," she repeated. "Oh, poor Mrs. Nest! Oh, it must hurt her dreadfully."
At this Roger burst out crying. Adolphe turned round, and picked him up in his arms.