"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!"