in dere! Vy dond you ged oop, Mr. Congreve?"
"It may be a fire," Congreve said to himself, his heart beginning to thump loudly.
It was pitch dark and two o'clock in the morning—the clock struck the hour just as he opened the door.
"De sophomores are gedding out the proglamations," said Steve in a whisper that could be heard at the end of the corridor.
At first the meaning did not penetrate Congreve's sleep-muddled brain. Finally, however, he remembered what it meant. He, Betts, Terence, Golatly, and Jimmie James, freshmen of course, and as yet in good standing before the faculty, had gone down to Trenton three or four times in the last week to see about the printing of their own class utterances of defiance; wherein the members of the class above them were decried and slurred upon in a jumble of incoherent and turgid English. The sophomores generally began this little game and the printers profited.
As these notices were addressed to the world in general, and often pasted upon long-distance freight cars, they probably had puzzled many
