The Golden Peaks by Eleanor Farnes Page B

work.
    There was little time to spare. For the four days of the Easter, nobody had any time off, and for the week following, very little. Celia found herself working like an automaton, sometimes, by the time dinner was reached, almost in a daze; which the many languages spoken all round her did nothing to improve. When she was tired, she found it more difficult to switch over quickly. There were French and English, Americans, Swiss and some Scandinavians. Inga could speak Norwegian, and furnished Celia with a few key words; but when she was tired, even these escaped her. She found herself answering German with French, French with English. Fortunately, everybody seemed to think it funny; everybody had to have patience with the everlasting language question.
    Anneliese seemed to be everywhere during this busy period. She was efficiency personified. She went on with her ordinary secretarial work, the bookings, the bills, the correspondence, but in addition to this, she arranged concerts, she arranged for coaches to transport guests quickly into Interlaken, she undertook telephone calls for people unable to cope with the telephone in a strange language, she arranged journeys and expeditions and booked seats. Her golden head was often to be seen in the middle of a group of guests, all trying to find out somet h ing. Kurt, helping her during the rush, was often at her side.
    Had Celia realized it, it was this increased being with Kurt that kept Anneliese so sweet-tempered. The knowledge that she worked for Kurt and with Kurt, kept her always to a high standard, almost as if she worked imagining that he watched her. At one time, it had occurred to Anneliese, that, since Celia was accustomed to secretarial work, she might help her in the office, and another girl could be found for waiting at table. She had d el iberately made u p her mind t hat, she would rather shoulder the work herself, than have Celia in the office when Kurt was there. Anneliese wanted him as much as possible to herself.
    A concert had been arranged at the hot el itself for the evening of Easter Sunday. If the evening were cold or du ll , the concert would be h el d in the large lounge; but if the night should prove moonlit and mild, it would be held in t he courtyard. The staff was particularly unexcited at the thought of the concert—it was, apparently, something they had seen and heard so often before, Swiss folk-dancing, folk-singing, music, including the Alpine horn, flag - throwing, that they said they would not bother to watch. As two waitresses were asked to be on duty to bring coffee or drinks to the audience, and Celia had never seen this type of concert, she volunteered to be on duty. Inga was the other who said she would h elp.
    Celia met Kurt as she was hurrying through the corridor at luncheon time that day. He paused.
    “So, Celia ,” he said, smiling. “ Now we become busy .”
    “We certainly do, Mr. St Pierre.”
    “You are going to watch the concert tonight?” he asked.
    “Oh, yes, I am to be on duty.”
    “What? Who appointed you to be on duty?”
    “I offered to be. I wanted to see it . I only wish that Dorothy could see it too.”
    “Why not?” asked Kurt. “Could it not be arranged?”
    “I wouldn’t dare to ask,” said Celia, smiling, “but it would have been a grand treat for her.”
    Kurt looked at her carefully. It seemed to him that Celia was beginning to show the strain of her work. Some well-spring in her was flagging. Perhaps it was only temporary. He said:
    “Shall I see if I can arrange it? I can talk to my old friend, Dr. Sturm.”
    “Perhaps you’d better not . I have no way to bring her or take her back.”
    “I can arrange that, too. It is only a matter of min utes with the car.”
    Celia doubted if Dr. Sturm would agree—it seemed too revolutionary a proposal to her. She was, therefore, agreeably surprised when Kurt sent her a message that he would bring Dorothy down just after dinner.
    That evening, as