"Well, the way it looks to me," Fred observed, "we simply _got_ to! From
what they tell me, the freshmen got to do more than anybody. Every other
Friday night, it's all freshmen and nothin' else. You get a postal card
on Monday morning in your mail, and it says 'Assignment' on it, and
then it's got written underneath what you haf to do the next Friday
night--oration or debate, or maybe just read from some old book or
something. I guess we got to stand up there and _try_, anyway."

"All right," said Ramsey. "If they want me to commit suicide they can
send me one o' their ole 'Assignments.' I won't need to commit suicide,
though, I guess. All I'll do, I'll just fall over in a fit, and stay in
it."

And, in truth, when he received his first "Assignment," one Monday
morning, a month later, he seemed in a fair way to fulfil his prophecy.
The attention of his roommate, who sat at a window of their study, was
attracted by sounds of strangulation.

"What on earth's the matter, Ramsey?"

"Look! Look at _this!_"

Fred took the card and examined it with an amazement gradually merging
into a pleasure altogether too perceptible:

ASSIGNMENT

TWELVE-MINUTE DEBATE, CLASS OF 1918. _Subject, Resolved:_ That Germany
is both legally and morally justified in her invasion of Belgium.