"Well, that's something at any rate," Erna told her in French, climbing
another flight of marble stairs. "After Prayers tonight we aren't
supposed to speak anything but French. Some of the girls don't speak
any French when they first come and I can tell you they have an awful
time. I ought to know because I didn't speak any French when I came
last year. What did Tulip say your name was?"
"Philippa Hunter."
"What are you? English?"
"No. American."
Erna turned down a corridor, pushed open a white door marked 33, and
set the suitcase inside. Flip looked around a sunny room with flowered
wall-paper and four brass beds. Four white bureaus beside the beds and
four white chairs at the feet completed the furnishings. Wide French
windows opened onto a balcony from which Flip could see the promised
view of the lake and the mountains. Each chair had a number painted on
it in small blue letters. Erna picked up the suitcase again and dumped
it down on the chair marked 97.
"That's you," she said. "You'd better remember your number. We do
everything by numbers. That was Miss Tulip at the desk; she's the
matron and she lives on this floor. We call her Black and Midnight.
She's a regular old devil about giving Order Marks. If one corner of
the bed isn't tucked in just so or if you don't straighten it the
minute you get off it or if a shirt is even crooked in a drawer old
Black and Midnight gives you an Order Mark. So watch out for her. Have
you got any skis?"