"Sounds as though you'd got one, ducky," Gloria said.
"Oh, well, it's nothing," Flip creaked in a voice like a rusty hinge.
Nothing, she thought, nothing must keep her from going up to the
chateau to see Paul.
Fortunately it was Sunday and breakfast was unsupervised; she might
have escaped detection if it hadn't been for Madame Perceval. Madame
Perceval was planning an art exhibit and, after chapel, she came into
the Common Room and walked over to the corner where Flip sat, reading
_Anna Karenina_.
"Philippa," she said as Flip scrambled clumsily to her feet.
"Yes, Madame?"
"I want to use two of your paintings in my exhibit and you haven't
signed either of them. Come up to the Studio with me and do it now."
"Yes, Madame," Flip croaked.
"What on earth is the matter with your voice, child?"
"Oh, nothing, Madame, really. I'm just a little hoarse."
"After you've finished signing your pictures you'd better report to
Mlle. Duvoisine."
Mlle. Duvoisine was the school nurse and since she was a special
friend of Miss Tulip's, Flip rather distrusted her. "Oh, no, Madame,
I'm all right, truly. Please, I promise you."
"We'll leave that up to Mlle. Duvoisine. Come along, please, Philippa."
As they walked along the corridor and started up the stairs Madame
Perceval said in her pleasant voice, "You've been trying hard,
Philippa. Keep it up."
Flip bowed her head and muttered something unintelligible, blushing
with pleasure that her efforts had been noticed.
After she had signed her pictures, writing HUNTER carefully in one
corner the way her father did, Madame Perceval walked back to the
infirmary with her. Mlle. Duvoisine was sitting at the infirmary desk,
knitting a heather-colored sweater, and she looked up and dropped a
stitch as they approached.