up for the occasion," as Carol put it.
She said it was too much bother to let out the tuck, and then put it
right back in, just for nonsense. At first this disappointed Carol, but
finally she accepted it gracefully.

"All right," she said, "I guess I can grow up enough for both of us.
Professor is not stupid; if he sees I'm a young lady, he'll naturally
know that you are, too, since we are twins. You can help me rip then if
you like,--you begin around on that side."

In less than two minutes the whole family was engaged in growing Carol
up for the occasion. They didn't see any sense in it, but Carol seemed
so unalterably convinced that it was necessary that they hated to
question her motives. And, as was both habitual and comfortable, they
proceeded to do as she directed.

If her idea had been utterly to dumfound the unsuspecting professor, she
succeeded admirably. Carefully she planned her appearance, giving him
just the proper interval of patient waiting in the presence of her aunt
and sisters. Then, a slow parting of the curtains and Carol stood out,
brightly, gladly, her slender hands held out in welcome, Carol, with
long skirts swishing around her white-slippered feet, her slender throat
rising cream-white above the soft fold of old rose lace, her graceful
head with its royal crown of bronze-gold hair, tilted most charmingly.

The professor sprang to his feet and stared at her. "Why, Carol," he
exclaimed soberly, almost sadly, as he crossed the room and took her
hand. "Why, Carol! Whatever have you been doing to yourself overnight?"

Of course, it was far more "overnight" than the professor knew, but
Carol saw to it that there was nothing to arouse his suspicion on that
score. He lifted her hand high, and looked frankly down the long lines
of her skirt, with the white toes of her slippers showing beneath. He
shook his head. And though he smiled again, his voice was sober.

"I'm beginning to feel my age," he said.

This was not what Carol wanted, and she resumed her old childish manner
with a gleeful laugh.

"What on earth are you doing in Mount Mark again, P'fessor!" When Carol
wished to be particularly coy, she said "p'fessor." It didn't sound
exactly cultured, but spoken in Carol's voice was really irresistible.

"Why, I came to see you before your hair turned gray, and wrinkles
marred you--"

"Wrinkles won't mar mine," cried Carol emphatically. "Not ever! I use up
a whole jar of cold cream every thre