sent off a message last night. What I wanted to ask you was whether this
story is true or not?"

"Why, yes," said Ramsey, mildly. "That's what we did."

She uttered an exclamation, a sound of grief and of suspicion confirmed.
"Ah! I was afraid so!"

"'Afraid so'? What's the matter?" he asked, and because she seemed
excited and troubled, he found himself not quite so embarrassed as he
had been at first; for some reason her agitation made him feel easier.
"What was wrong about that?"

"Oh, it's all so shocking and wicked and mistaken!" she cried. "Even the
faculty has been doing it, and half the other 'frats' and sororities!
And it was yours that started it."

"Yes, we did," he said, throughly puzzled. "We're the oldest 'frat'
here, and of course"--he chuckled modestly--"of course we think we're
the best. Do you mean you believe we ought to've sat back and let
somebody else start it?"

"Oh, _no_!" she answered, vehemently. "Nobody ought to have started it!
That's the trouble; don't you see? If nobody had started it none of it
might have happened. The rest mightn't have caught it. It mightn't have
got into their heads. A war thought is the most contagious thought in
the world; but if it can be kept from starting, it can be kept from
being contagious. It's just when people have got into an emotional
state, or a state of smouldering rage, that everybody ought to be so
terribly careful not to think war thoughts or make war speeches--or send