"Caught the tip of my ski on a piece of ice," Erna gasped. Her face was
very white and her lips were blue with pain and cold. "You shouldn't
have come back."
"Don't be silly," Flip said, and her voice sounded angry. "Is it your
ankle?"
"Yes. I think I've busted it or something."
Flip unsnapped Erna's skis and took them off. Then she unlaced the boot
of the injured ankle and gently pulled it off. "I don't think it's
broken. I think it's a bad sprain."
"What's up?" Kaatje van Leyden who had been skiing down the mountain
side with them drew up beside them.
"Erna's hurt her ankle," Flip said. "I think it's sprained."
Now more of the racers came in sight, but Kaatje waved them on.
"Esmée's won but we might as well see who comes in second and third."
"Flip lost the race because of me," Erna told Kaatje. "She was way
ahead of Esmée but when I fell she turned around and came back to me."
"And Esmée went on?" Kaatje asked. "Well, it's a good thing you came
back and got Erna's boot off, Philippa, or we'd have had an awful time.
Her foot's swelling like anything. Hurt badly, Erna?"
Erna, her teeth clenched, nodded.
"Philippa, if we make a chair with our hands do you think we can ski
down together with Erna? It will be quite a job not to jolt her, but
I think we'd better get her down to Duvoisine as soon as possible. How
about it?" Kaatje asked.
"O.K.," Flip said.
Jackie, trailing gallantly down at the tail of the race, stopped in
dismay at the sight of Erna lying on the ground, and helped her up onto
Flip's and Kaatje's hands. Then they started slowly down the mountain.
This was the most difficult skiing Flip had ever done, because she did
not have her arms to help her balance herself and she and Kaatje had to
ski as though they were one, making their turns and swerves in complete
unison in order not to jolt Erna who was trying bravely not to cry out
in pain. Jackie had skied on ahead and Mlle. Duvoisine was waiting
for them with the doctor, and Erna was borne off to the chalet to be
administered to. Flip looked almost as limp and white as Erna as she
went to join the other intermediates who were eating sandwiches while
they waited for the senior events to be finished.
So now it was all over. She thought she had done well in Form, but she
had lost both races. She felt too tired, and too depressed now that her
part in the long-waited-for meet was over, to be elated simply because
she had skied well.
Just as Kaatje van Leyden came swooping down to win the seniors' Long
Race, Jackie said, "Here's Erna," and Mlle. Duvoisine was pushing Erna,
sitting on one chair, her bandaged foot in a green ski sock with a
large hole in the toe, on another, across the snow to them. They all
clustered about her.
"How are you, Erna?"
"Is it broken?"
"Does it hurt?"
"I'm fine," Erna told them as Mlle. Duvoisine left her with them.
"It's just a sprain. It hurts like blazes and I have to go to the
infirmary when we get back to school but Duvoisine says I can stay for
the prizes. Kaatje's up talking to the judges. They must be ready to
begin. Give me a sandwich, somebody, quick."
Fräulein Hauser stood up in the judges' box and blew her whistle. On
the table in front of her was a box with medals and the silver cup.
Everybody stopped talking and waited.
"I want to say that I am proud of the way you all skied today,"
Fräulein Hauser told them. "I think that you put on a splendid and
professional showing. And now I have a pleasant surprise for all of
you. An old friend has consented to give out the awards, someone I know
you will all be delighted to see. Suppose I let her speak for herself."
A cheer of welcome came from the girls as Madame Perceval detached
herself from the spectators, walked across the snow, and climbed the
steps to the judges' box.
"Percy!"
"Madame Perceval!"
"But I didn't _see_ her!"
"Percy! How super!"
Everyone was whispering in low and excited whispers. Then Madame
Perceval held up her hand and there was silence. For the first few
minutes Flip was so surprised that she did not hear a word Madame
Perceval said, though she was vaguely aware of the girls laughing and
applauding. Then she tried to listen.
"And now for the awards," Madame Perceval was saying. "I won't delay
that exciting information a moment longer. I'm afraid my train was late
so I didn't see any of the beginners' events, but I hear from all the
judges that none of you can be called beginners any more and the three
of you who have won medals have every right to be proud of yourselves."
I won't win anything, Flip thought as Madame Perceval gave out the
medals, and Paul will be disappointed and Madame will think I didn't
work....
"The judges feel unable to award a medal for Form to the intermediates
as there was nothing to choose between Margaret Campbell, Philippa
Hunter, and Erna Weber. But each of these girls will be given a
Certificate of Merit. The medal for Intermediate Jumping goes to Erna
Weber, who is at the moment a fallen hero on the field of battle. Erna,
will you send someone up for your medal, please?"
Erna gave Jackie a shove.
"The medal for the Short Race goes to Esmée Bodet, with certificates to
Margaret Campbell, second, and Bianca Colantuono, third. Esmée Bodet
seems to be the speed demon of the intermediates; the medal for the
Long Race goes to her, too...."
Now Flip began to look around the spectators, and then suddenly she saw
her father standing between Paul and Monsieur Laurens and her heart
gave a leap of joy. He _did_ get here! she thought happily. He _did_
come even if I didn't win!
"Hey, Flip," Erna gave her a poke. "Percy's giving out the cup. Listen."
Again Flip had missed half of Madame's words, but she turned away from
her father and looked up at the speaker's platform.
"This cup stands for more than just excellence in skiing, or marked
improvement," Madame Perceval was saying, "and I am happy that the
judges were unanimous in their decision as to the girl who deserves
it. I don't think there's any question in anybody's mind that this
girl's improvement in skiing has been almost spectacular. But I think
that you would all like to know that she lost a very good chance to win
the Long Race by turning back to help a friend who had hurt herself,
and then helped Kaatje van Leyden carry her down the mountain, a very
difficult piece of skiing. The judges, especially those of us from the
school who have watched her all winter, feel that she has tried harder,
and accomplished more than any other girl in school." Madame Perceval
paused for a moment; then she said, "It gives me great pleasure to
award this cup to Philippa Hunter."
Erna and Jackie pushed her forward and all her long-legged clumsiness
returned to her as she crossed the blazing expanse of snow between the
girls and the judges' box. She tripped over a boot lace, fell to her
knees, and got up, grinning, as everybody laughed and clapped. When
Madame Perceval handed her the cup and stood there smiling down at her
the storm of applause was so deafening that she knew they were glad she
had won this most desired of all the awards, and that the applause was
an honor as great as the cup itself. All the judges shook hands with
her, and Fräulein Hauser said, rather awkwardly, "I seem to have made a
big mistake, Philippa. I'm very glad."
Then the girls came clustering about her, shouting, "Well done,
Flip! Good old Pill! Good for you, Philippa!" And she was laughing
and blushing and stammering until she was swept off her feet and her
father's arms were about her and he was exclaiming, "I'm proud of my
girl!"
"Oh, father!" she cried. "You _did_ come!"
"I managed to get away at the last minute," he told her. "So
Colette--Madame Perceval--and I came over together."
Then Flip felt herself caught in someone else's arms and Madame
Perceval kissed her on both cheeks. "I knew you'd make us proud of you,
my darling," she cried.
"Oh, Madame!" Flip said, and all she seemed to be able to say was "Oh."
14
She sat that night in front of the fire in the lodge, leaning back,
her head against her father's knee, and watched the flames roar up the
chimney, and a deep feeling of content like the warmth from the fire
filled her whole body. Paul sat sprawled beside her, pulling patient
Ariel's ear, and Colette Perceval sat on the sofa next to Philip
Hunter. Monsieur Laurens had retreated into his study after dinner.
"I'm so happy," Flip said, "that I haven't room for one drop more. One
drop more and I'll burst." She leaned back against him. Her body felt
heavy and tired and comfortable and her stomach was full of Thérèse's
onion soup and her heart was so full of happiness that she could feel
it swelling inside her.
"Remember how you were going to be the prisoner of Chillon, Flippet?"
her father asked.
"I remember," she said, and smiled because she felt so full of freedom,
and she knew that the freedom was in herself, just as the prison had
been. She stood up and said, "I'll be back in a minute," because the
happiness in her chest had grown so big that she knew she had to go
outside and let some of it escape into the night or she really would
burst with it.
She pulled her coat off the peg in the hall and pushed into it as she
opened the door and slipped outside. She looked down the mountain to
the lake, and across the lake to the mountains, and above the mountains
to the stars. The night was all about her, wild and cold and beautiful,
and she let her happiness spread out into it, so that it became part of
the night, part of the lake and the mountains and the stars.
Then she turned and Paul was standing in the doorway.
"I thought we ought to leave them alone," he said, glancing back at
Flip's father and his Aunt Colette who were talking earnestly together.
"Paul, do you really think--" she asked.