"Oh, that's all right," Erna said uncomfortably. "I'm sorry if it was
bad news in your letter."
"It's just that my father's sick in China and I can't be with him
for the Christmas holidays," Flip started to explain in a controlled
voice. Then she burst out, "and I have to spend the holidays with
Eunice--she's a friend of my father's--and I don't like her and if she
marries my father I'll--I'll want to kill her."
"Ach, that's awful," Erna said. "I'm awful sorry, Flip. It certainly is
awful."
"Well--" Flip's voice trailed off; then she spoke briskly. "We'd better
get down to Call Over."
6
The next day she told Paul about the letter and for the first time
since she had received it she started to cry. Ariel, distressed at her
unhappiness, jumped up at her, almost knocking her over, and licked
excitedly at her face.
"That Eunice," Paul said, frowning heavily and pushing Ariel away from
Flip and sending him over to the hearth. Then he jumped up. "Put on
your skis and go on out and start practicing," he commanded. "I'll be
out in a minute." And he half-shoved Flip out the door.
Flip went out obediently and put on her skis and started working on
her turns. In just a few minutes Paul came flying out of the lodge,
shouting, "Flip! Flip!"
He rushed up, panting, and gasped, "My father says you may stay here
with us for Christmas if your father says it's all right! And Aunt
Colette is going to be with us because my mother can't come." His face
was radiant with pleasure.
Flip sat down in the snow, her feet going every which way.
"And you can work on your skiing every day. And I'm sure Aunt Colette
can take us up to Gstaad to ski, and to Caux too, so you'll be familiar
with Gstaad and all the runs for the ski meet and maybe you will become
such a good skier that we can do a double jump! Papa said he'd write
your father right away this afternoon. Oh, Flip, it will be wonderful
to have you here all the time instead of just on Sunday afternoons!"
"Oh, Paul!" Flip cried and scrambled to her feet. "Oh, Paul! Next to
being with father it's the most wonderful thing in the world. I know
he'll let me!"
"Well," Paul said, giving her a quick, shy hug. "What a relief. Come
on. Let's get to work on your skiing."
Flip had been skiing conscientiously for about an hour under Paul's
tutelage when Madame Perceval came out and called them.
"Come on in to tea, children!"
They skied over to her, Flip with almost as great ease and confidence
as Paul, shouting, "Hello, Madame!" "Hello, Aunt Colette!"
"So," Madame said, raising Flip's chin and looking into her eyes.
"You're happy about your holidays now?"
"Oh, yes, Madame!"
"I was wondering what had happened to upset you, my problem child. You
seemed so much happier and then gloom descended. But you did have some
reason this time. It's hard to be away from your father at Christmas
time."
"And it would have been awful to be with Eunice," Flip said. "Eunice
always makes me feel--well, even clumsier and gawkier and tongue-tieder
and everything than I am. But oh, Madame, I'll love being here, and
I'll try to help and not be a bother."
"Hurry up, Flip, take off your skis," Paul called impatiently. "Papa
went over to Lausanne to the dentist yesterday and brought us back
cakes from Nyffeneggers."
When they had finished tea Madame said, "How about skiing back to
school with me, Flip? Feel up to it?"
"Yes, Madame, I think so."
"You haven't skied any distance at all, yet, and I think it would be
good for you. Not afraid of skiing in the dark? I'll keep right beside
you."
"I'm not afraid, Madame."
They pushed off, Flip feeling excited and happy as she turned around
to wave good-bye to Paul, who was standing in the lighted doorway. And
Flip thought how beautiful the night was with the stars just coming
out; and the pine trees' noble arms bowed with snow; and the shadows of
the ruined chateau looming behind them; and the warmth and comfort of
the lodge, the golden light pouring out the open door and Paul standing
there waving good-bye.
"Yes," Madame Perceval said, as if in answer to her thoughts. "It's
beautiful, isn't it? In the spring the fields are as white as they are
now, with narcissi, not snow.... Shall we go?"
They started off down the mountain side, Madame calling Flip from time
to time to check her speed or give her instructions. Now at last Flip
had the feeling of being a bird, of having wings. And as she pushed
through the cold night air she felt that it was as solid and entire
an element as water. A bird must know this solidity; but as she felt
the air against her body the only thing within her own knowledge with
which she could compare it was water, and she felt as she broke through
it that she must be leaving a wake of air behind her, as a boat does,
cutting through water.
Madame let her go faster and faster, and, exhilarated by the speed and
the beauty, she would have gone flying past the school gates if Madame
had not checked her. They turned through the gates together and moved
slowly down the white driveway.
"That was good skiing, Flip," Madame said. "I'm really very proud of
you."
Flip dropped her head in quick confusion, then looked up with eyes that
shone in the starlight. "I love it, Madame, I just love it!"
"You know," Madame told her, "We're not going to be able to enter you
in the beginner's class at the ski meet. You'll have to go in the
intermediate. If you go on improving at this rate you'd be disqualified
from the beginner's class. And with all the skiing you'll be able to do
during the holidays I don't think there's any question but you'll go on
improving. I want to work with you on your left stem turn. Your right
is fine, but the left is the only place where your weak knee seems to
bother you. Don't worry, though. I think a little extra practice and
the left stem will be as good as the right."
They went indoors and Flip put her skis on the rack, stroking them
lovingly. The smell of the ski room, of hot wax and melted snow, and
damp wool from the ski clothes, was almost as pleasant to her now as
the smell of the art Studio.
"Madame," she said softly, "thank you so much for the skis."
"The girl who left them was rolling in money," Madame spoke shortly,
"and I suspect it was black market money. They're in far better hands
now--or rather on far better feet." She laughed. "Run along upstairs
to the Common Room. There's about half an hour before dinner. We made
better time than I expected."
7
Flip ran up the stairs and across the Hall, almost bumping into Miss
Tulip.
"Really, Philippa Hunter!" Miss Tulip exclaimed in annoyance. "Will
you kindly remember that you are supposed to walk, not run. You used
to be such a nice, quiet girl and you're turning into a regular little
hoyden." And Miss Tulip shut herself up in the cage of the faculty
elevator and pressed the button.
Instead of being crushed by Miss Tulip's irritation Flip had to
surpress a laugh as she watched the elevator rise and saw the matron's
feet in their long, narrow white shoes slowly disappearing up the
elevator shaft. Then, completely forgetting her admonition, she ran on
down the corridor and into the Common Room.
She had just started a letter to her father when the big glass door
was opened and Martha Downs and Kaatje van Leyden came in. A sudden
hush came over the Common Room because the senior girls had studies
and a special living room of their own on the second floor, and seldom
came downstairs unless it was to lecture one of the girls for some
misdeed that affected the two school teams, the Odds and the Evens,
or that came under the jurisdiction of the Student Government. Martha
and Kaatje walked towards Flip now and she knew that everybody was
wondering, "Now what has Pill done?"