"That's
all right. We just meant beaux, you know. We didn't include uncles, and
fathers, and old school-teachers, and things like that. You don't count.
That isn't breaking my pledge."

The professor smiled, but he remembered the quivering lips, and the
relaxing of the lithe body, and the forced laughter, and was not
deceived.

"You're such a strange girl, Carol. You're so honest, usually, so
kind-hearted, so generous. But you always seem trying to make yourself
look bad, not physically, that isn't what I mean." Carol smiled, and her
loving fingers caressed her soft cheek. "But you try to make folks think
you are vain and selfish, when you are not. Why do you do it? Every one
knows what you really are. All over Mount Mark they say you are the best
little kid in town."

"They do!" she said indignantly. "Well, they'd better not. Here I've
spent years building up my reputation to suit myself, and then they go
and shatter me like that. They'd better leave me alone."

"But what's the object?"

"Why, you know, P'fessor," she said, carefully choosing her words, "you
know, it's a pretty hard job living up to a good reputation. Look at
Prudence, and Fairy, and Lark. Every one just naturally expects them to
be angelically and dishearteningly good. And if they aren't, folks talk.
But take me now. No one expects anything of me, and if once in a while,
I do happen to turn out all right by accident, it's a sort of joyful
surprise to the whole community. It's lots more fun surprising folks by
being better than they expect, than shocking them by turning out worse
than they think you will."

"But it doesn't do you any good," he assured her. "You can't fool them.
Mount Mark knows its Carol."

"You're not going?" she said, as he released her hand and straightened
the collar of his coat.

"Yes, your father will chase me off if I don't go now. How about the
letters, Carol? Think you can manage a little oftener?"

"I'd love to. It's so inspiring to get a letter from a
five-thousand-dollars-a-year scientist, I mean, a was-once. Do my
letters sound all right? I don't want to get too chummy, you know."

"Get as chummy as you can," he urged her. "I enjoy it."

"I'll have to be more dignified if you're going to McCormick.
Presbyterian! The Presbyterians are very dignified. I'll have to be
formal from this on. Dear Sir: Respectfully yours. Is that proper?"

He took her hands in his. "Good-by, little pal. Thank you for coming
out, a