"Not so very, Gladdie. But oh, Gladdie, I was so frightened when I felt you stop and when I saw your face. Oh, Gladdie, I thought it was her."
"So did I," said Gladys with a shiver.
"Would she have put us in prison?" he asked.
"I don't know," said Gladys. "I heard her say something to Françoise about the police. I don't know if that means prison. But these ladies won't let her, 'cos you know, Roger, they're English, like us."
"Is all French peoples naughty?" inquired Roger meekly.
"No, you silly little boy," giving him a small shake, "of course not. Think of Mrs. Nest, and Françoise, and even that lady—oh, I didn't mean to make you cry. You're not silly—I didn't mean it, dear."
But Roger could not at once stop his tears, for they were as much the result of tiredness and excitement as of Gladys's words.
"Gladdie," he went on plaintively, "what will you do if those ladies aren't kind to us?"
"They'll help me to send a tele—you know what I mean—a letter in that quick way, to Miss Susan," replied Gladys confidently. "That's all I'm going to ask them. They'd never refuse that."