"I'll remember," Flip promised.
As soon as Flip was unpacked she changed out of her uniform and into her ski clothes. Madame Perceval, who had stayed at the school until the majority of the girls were safely off on their various trains, had arrived, and they spent the day skiing. They took a funicular up the mountain and skied until dark, stopping at an inn for lunch. Then, at Flip's favorite time of day when the sky was an intense green-blue and the bare branches of the trees were a delicate filigree against it and the first stars began to tremble above the mountain, they skied back to the gate house.
"Are you having a good time, Flip?" Paul asked anxiously. "Is everything all right?"
"It's wonderful!" Flip assured him. "I'm having a beautiful time."
After dinner she brought her sketch pad and pencil downstairs with her and sat in front of the fire, idly sketching Paul and Monsieur Laurens. Monsieur Laurens was easy, with his peaked eyebrows, his long thin nose, and his pipe and his carpet slippers run down at the heels; but she could not caricature Paul.
"Let me see," Paul said.
She showed him the pad. "I can't do you," she told him. "I can do your father but I can't do you. I can't do Madame either. Why is it, Madame, that I can't do you and Paul?"
Madame Perceval did not answer the question. Instead she said, "Some day you must try a real portrait of Paul. I'll let you use my oils."
"Oh, would you, Madame!" Flip cried. "I'd love to try. Paul would make a wonderful portrait. Would you really sit for me, Paul?"
Paul grinned rather shyly. "If you'd like me to."