Madame Perceval took her hand quickly. "I apologise, dear. Please forgive me. I've been very unjust to you. I know you'd never expect favors of any kind. I should have been accusing myself, not you. I said that because I've been afraid that I might show how particularly you interested me--and I've always prided myself on complete impartiality. But you remind me so much of Denise--my daughter.... She died of pneumonia during the war. You look very much like her and she had your same intense, difficult nature and artistic talent.... I said we weren't going to talk any more and I've been going a blue streak, haven't I? Take your nap and Paul will come in when you wake up. Mlle. Duvoisine and the doctor both say that security and happiness are the best medicine he can have, and you can give him a great deal of both. By the way, his real name was Paul Muret. Its nice that we can go on calling him Paul. Of course it's a common name, but Paul says he's always felt _right_ being called 'Paul.' It was my husband's name." As Madame Perceval bent over her to put the covers about her, Flip reached up and caught her hand, whispering, "I can't imagine anybody who would make a more wonderful mother than you." 3 During the remainder of the holidays Madame Perceval took Flip and Paul on long skiing expeditions every day. Once they got on the train in the morning and traveled all day and then took two days to ski home. Flip was beginning to feel more at ease on her skis than she was on her own feet. When she put on her skis her clumsiness seemed to roll off her like water and her stiff knee seemed to have the spring and strength that it never had when she tried to run in a relay race or on the basket ball court or on the hockey field. Flip and Paul grew brown and rosy and the shadows slowly retreated from Paul's eyes and Flip looked as though she could be no relation to the unhappy girl who had moped about the school and been unable to make friends. Now when they met other young people on their skiing expeditions she could exchange shouts and laugh with them, safe in her new security of friendship with Paul, confidence in her skiing, and Madame Perceval's approval and friendship. She tried not to think that someone new would be taking the art teacher's place at school. "By the way, Flip," Madame Perceval said once. "When the question comes up at school about the ski meet, don't mention my part in the surprise. Just say that it was Paul who taught you to ski." "All right, Madame," Flip said, "if you think it would be better that way." "I do." Madame Perceval looked after Paul who had skied on ahead of them. "After all, the credit is really Paul's anyhow."