"Oh, well, I knew you were crazy about Percy. Come on, kids, time for food." And Erna hurried them out of the classroom. 9 The days really began to go by as Flip had never thought days at school could go. She remembered in the movies how the passage of time was often shown by the pages of a calendar being turned in rapid succession, and it seemed now that the days at school were being flipped by in just such a way. She would get up in the cold dark of early morning, dress, shivering, make her bed, and rush out to practice skiing. "Where _do_ you go every morning, Flip?" her roommates asked her. "It's a secret," she finally had to tell them, "but I'll tell you as soon as I possibly can." "What kind of a secret?" "Well, I _think_ it's going to be a nice secret," Flip said. She spent Sundays skiing with Paul and usually stayed at the gate house for the evening meal. "Flip, have you ever seen the others ski?" Paul asked her. "No. Sometimes on walks we pass the beginners and you can see them from the windows of the gym. But the others usually take the train up to San Loup and I haven't seen them." "Then you don't really know what you're up against?" "No." "So you can't really tell how you'll stand the day of the ski meet." "No." "Well--" Paul threw out his arms and pushed back his chair. "There's no use worrying about it. Aunt Colette said you should definitely sign up with the intermediates and she certainly ought to know." There was a letter one day from her father. "I'm sketching at the hostel where your Madame Perceval is teaching," he wrote. "She's doing amazing work with the children here and they all adore her. She speaks affectionately of you and sends you her regards." And Paul told her, "My father had a letter from Aunt Colette. She's met your father." One Sunday while they were at the table Flip said to Paul, "Why don't you ski back down to school with me if your father will let us, and then I could sort of show you around and he could come and get you." "No," Paul said. "Why not?" "I just don't want to." "Why don't you go, Paul?" Georges Laurens put in. "It would do you good." "Please, Paul," Flip begged. "School's been lots of fun since Christmas." "You've certainly changed," Paul said, looking down at his plate. "Yes, I have. And it's lots nicer. I'm not the most popular girl in school or anything but they don't hate me any more, and Erna and Jackie and Solvei and Maggie are nice to me and everybody likes it because I draw pictures of them. Anyhow, you don't have to come in or say a word to anybody if you don't want to, you can go on avoiding institutions. But I want to ski back to school and I can't unless you go with me because I'm not allowed to be out alone." "There you are," Paul said. "Rules again."