"Oh, goodness, Connie, deafen one ear and listen with the other. You've got to learn to hear in a hubbub. Go on then, I'm through. But I haven't forgotten that I missed the Thanksgiving banquet last year because Phil broke his ankle that very afternoon on the ice. What business had he on the ice when he had a date--" "Ready?" asked Connie, as the phone rang again, insistently. "Go on, then. Don't wait until I get started. Answer it." Connie removed the receiver and called the customary "Hello." Then, "Yes, just a minute. It's for you, Carol." Carol rose darkly. "It's Joe," she said in a dungeon-dark voice. "He's broken, I foresee it. If there's anything I despise and abominate it's a breaker of dates. I think it ought to be included among the condemnations in the decalogue. Men have no business being broken, except their hearts, when girls are 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.