"What?" Flip said, sounding hard and forbidding.
"Flip, it's just me. Erna."
"Oh."
"Did you—was it—was there bad news in your letter?"
"No. It's all right." Flip's voice was stifled.
"Well, look, Flip," Erna said. "I just meant ... Percy's taking Call Over this morning and you know how strict she is ... and the bell's about to ring...."
Flip opened the door and came out. "Thanks, Erna."
"Oh, that's all right," Erna said uncomfortably. "I'm sorry if it was bad news in your letter."
"It's just that my father's sick in China and I can't be with him for the Christmas holidays," Flip started to explain in a controlled voice. Then she burst out, "and I have to spend the holidays with Eunice—she's a friend of my father's—and I don't like her and if she marries my father I'll—I'll want to kill her."
"Ach, that's awful," Erna said. "I'm awful sorry, Flip. It certainly is awful."