"She said she was a very dear friend of your father's, and that it was through her you had come here." That's right, Flip thought. It's all because of Eunice. But she knew she couldn't really blame Eunice and anyhow, now that there was Paul, being miserable while she was actually at the school didn't matter so much any more. "Everything all right?" Martha asked. "You're all settled and everything?" "Yes, thank you." "Anything I can do for you?" "No, thank you." "Well, if you ever want me for anything, just come along and give a bang on my study door." "I will. Thank you very much," Flip said, knowing that she wouldn't. And she went back into the Common Room and sat at the big billiard table, a legacy from the days when the school had been a hotel, and tried to write a letter to her father. But she could not concentrate. Images of Eunice kept crowding themselves into her mind. Eunice. Eunice and her father. Once Eunice had even said to her something about her father being young and probably marrying again--but not Eunice! Please, not anybody, but especially please, not Eunice! 4 The next morning when she woke up, Flip's throat was raw and her head was hot and when she opened her mouth to speak her voice came out in a hoarse croak. "You'd better report to the nurse," Erna told her. Flip shook her head violently. "I'm all right. Just getting a cold." "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.