to be out in the night air. Oh," she protested, when he
turned north from the parsonage instead of south, as he should have
gone, "I only came for a piece, you know. And you want to visit with
your uncle." The long lashes hid the twinkle the professor knew was
there, though he could not see it.

"Yes, all right. But we'll walk a little way first. I'll visit him later
on. Or I can write him a letter if necessary." He felt at peace with all
the world. His resentment toward Carol had vanished at the first glimpse
of her friendly smile.

"I want to talk to you about being a preacher, you know. I think it is
the most wonderful thing in the world, I certainly do." Her eyes were
upon his face now seriously. "I didn't say much, I was surprised, and I
was ashamed, too, Professor, for I never could do it in the world.
Never! It always makes me feel cheap and exasperated when I see how much
nicer other folks are than I. But I do think it is wonderful. Really
sometimes, I have thought you ought to be a preacher, because you're so
nice. So many preachers aren't, and that's the kind we need."

The professor put his other hand over Carol's, which was restlessly
fingering the crease in his sleeve. He did not speak. Her girlish,
impulsive words touched him very deeply.

"I wouldn't want the girls to know it, they'd think it was so funny,
but--" She paused uncertainly, and looked questioningly into his face.
"Maybe you won't understand what I mean, but sometimes I'd like to be
good myself. Awfully good, I mean." She smiled whimsically. "Wouldn't
Connie scream if she could hear that? Now you won't give me away, will
you? But I mean it. I don't think of it very often, but sometimes, why,
Professor, honestly, I wouldn't care if I were as good as Prudence!" She
paused dramatically, and the professor pressed the slender hand more
closely in his.

"Oh, I don't worry about it. I suppose one hasn't any business to expect
a good complexion and just natural goodness, both at once, but--" She
smiled again. "Five thousand dollars," she added dreamily. "Five
thousand dollars! What shall I call you now? P'fesser is not appropriate
any more, is it?"

"Call me David, won't you, Carol? Or Dave."

Carol gasped. "Oh, mercy! What would Prudence say?" She giggled merrily.
"Oh, mercy!" She was silent a moment then. "I'll have to be contented
with plain Mr. Duke, I suppose, until you get a D.D. Duckie, D.D.," she
added laughingly. But in an instant sh