And both were young

by Madeleine L'Engle

On the last night of the holidays Madame Perceval came up to say good-night to them, and sat beside Paul on the foot of Flip's bed.

"It's good-night and good-bye, my children," she said. "I leave on the five thirty-two, tomorrow morning, and Georges will take me to the train and be back before you're awake."

"Couldn't we see you off?" Flip begged.

"No, dear. I don't like leave-takings. And in any case it's best for you to be fresh and have had a good night's rest before you go back to school. Work hard on the skiing; Paul will help you on week-ends, though you don't need much help any more, and I expect to hear great things of that ski meet. So don't disappoint me. I know you won't."

"I'll try not to, Madame," Flip promised; and she knew that both she and Madame Perceval meant more than just the skiing and the ski meet.

"Paul," Madame said, "take care of your father and take care of Flip. I'll keep in touch with you both and maybe we can all meet during the spring holidays. Good-night, my children. God bless you." And she bent down and kissed them good-night and good-bye.

6

After the Christmas holidays, the exciting and wonderful holidays, there seemed to be a great difference in Flip and her feeling towards the school. As she ran up the marble staircase she no longer felt new and strange. She realized with a little shock that she was now an "old girl." Almost every face she saw was familiar and the few new ones belonged to new girls who had replaced her as the lonely and the strange one. She stopped at the desk where Miss Tulip was presiding as she had on the day when Flip first came to the school with her father and Eunice. Miss Tulip checked her name in the big register and handed her a letter. It was from her father.

"Oh, thanks, Miss Tulip," she cried, and slit it open.

"My darling Flippet," she read, "I told you not to worry if you didn't hear from me for a week or so while I was traveling. I did get you off that one post card while I was in Paris having twenty-four hours of gayety with Eunice and now I am in Freiburg in Germany and will be traveling about for a month or so around here and across the border in Switzerland. It seems a shame that I will be so close to you and not be able to come to you at once, but I missed so much time while I was in the hospital with that devilish jaundice that I must work double time now to try to make up. However, I think I may be able to manage to be with you for your ski meet. I shall try very hard to make it. I want to see you ski (but darling don't worry if you don't win any prizes. The fact that you have really learned to ski is more than enough) and I want to see your Paul. I don't know where I shall be during your Easter holidays but wherever it is I promise you that you will be there too and we'll sandwich in plenty of fun between sketches. And don't expect much in the way of correspondence from me for the next few months, my dearest. You'll know that I am thinking of you and loving you anyhow, but my work often makes me unhappy and tired and when I stop at night I fall into bed and it is a great comfort to me to know that you are warm and fed and well cared for and that you have learned to have fun and be happy. I know that it was difficult and I am very proud of my Flippet."