parade."

"Parade? What parade?" inquired Foster.

"Why, every fall there is a parade of the freshmen. They have a band
usually, at least most of the classes have had one and as yours is the
best class that ever entered college, why you won't want to fall behind
the others I know."

"Who pays for the band?" demanded Peter John.

"You do, that is, your class does."

"I won't pay a cent," retorted Peter John.

"You don't have to," laughed Allen. "Some of the others will make it up.
I'm just telling you what the custom is and only for your own good."

"Go on with your story," interrupted Will. "Let's hear about the
parade."

"It's to come off next Saturday afternoon, and we juniors usually help
out in the scheme, you see. We try to arrange a part of it for you and
help you out in some of the details. The whole thing is 'horse play,'
just a sort of burlesque, and the more ridiculous you can make it, the
better."

"I'll not make a fool of myself for anybody," spoke up Peter John
sharply.