re mixed up in it.--Hello?--Oh; oh-h-h!
Yes,--it's professor! How are you?--Yes, indeed,--oh, yes, I'm going to
be home. Yes, indeed. Come about eight. Of course I'll be here,--nothing
important,--it didn't amount to anything at all,--just a little old
every-day affair.--Yes, I can arrange it nicely.--We're so anxious to
see you.--All right,--Good-by."

She turned back to the table, her face flushed, eyes shining. "It's
professor! He's in town just overnight, and he's coming out. I'll have
to phone Joe--"

"Anything I despise and abominate it's a breaker of dates," chanted
Connie; "ought to be condemned in the decalogue."

"Oh, that's different," explained Carol. "This is professor! Besides,
this will sort of even up for the Thanksgiving banquet last year."

"But that was Phil and this is Joe!"

"Oh, that's all right. It's just the principle, you know, nothing
personal about it. Seven-six-two, please. Yes. Seven-six-two? Is Joe
there? Oh, hello, Joe. Oh, Joe, I'm so sorry to go back on you the last
minute like this, but one of my old school-teachers is in town just for
to-night and is coming here, and of course I can't leave. I'm so sorry.
I've been looking forward to it for so long, but--oh, that is nice of
you. You'll forgive me this once, won't you? Oh, thanks, Joe, you're so
kind."

"Hurry up and phone Roy, Larkie. You'll have to break yours, too."

Lark immediately did so, while Carol stood thoughtfully beside the
table, her brows puckered unbecomingly.

"I think," she said at last slowly, with wary eyes on her father's quiet
face, "I think I'll let the tuck out of my old rose dress. It's too
short."

"Too short! Why, Carol--" interrupted her aunt.

"Too short for the occasion, I mean. I'll put it back to-morrow." Once
more her eyes turned cautiously father-ward. "You see, professor still
has the 'little twinnie' idea in his brain, and I'm going to get it out.
It isn't consistent with our five feet seven. We're grown up. Professor
has got to see it. You skoot up-stairs, Connie, won't you, there's a
dear, and bring it down, both of them, Lark's too. Lark,--where did you
put that ripping knife? Aunt Grace, will you put the iron on for me?
It's perfectly right that professor should see we're growing up. We'll
have to emphasize it something extra, or he might overlook it. It makes
him feel Methuselish because he's so awfully smart. But I'll soon change
his mind for him."

Lark stoutly refused to be "grown