ced, and my guess is she's goin' to be.
Something tells me this _New Dawn_ ain't goin' to save her from her
come-uppance. I tell you both plain out, I ain't goin' to have a
magazine under my roof that'll talk such stuff about George Washington,
the Father of his Country. It's too scandalous."

Thus the _New Dawn_ lost a subscriber, though not losing, it should be
said, a reader. For Sharon Whipple, having irately stopped his
subscription by a letter in which the editor was told he should be
ashamed of himself for calling George Washington a crook that way,
thereafter bought the magazine hurriedly at the Cut-Rate Pharmacy and
read every word of it in secret places not under his roof.

Wilbur Cowan, though proud of the _New Dawn_ because his brother's name
adorned it, had nevertheless failed to profit by its teachings. He was
prepared to admit that America groped in spiritual darkness which the
_New Dawn_ would flush with its pure white light; he could not have
contended with any authority that it was not a land of dollar hunters,
basely materialistic, without ideals, artistically impoverished, and
devoid of national self-consciousness, whatever that meant. These things
were choice words to him, nothing more; and he had no valid authority on
which to deny that the country was being tricked into war by the
Interests, something heinous that the _New Dawn_ spelled with a capital
letter. In a way he believed this, because his brother said so. His
brother had been educated. He even felt shame-faced and apologetic about
his resolve to enter the fight.

But this resolve was stanch; he wanted to fight, even if he had been
tricked by Wall Street into feeling that way. The _New Dawn_ said he had
been tricked, and he supposed it was true, even if he couldn't clearly
detect how Wall Street had made Germany pursue the course that made him
want to fight. So far as his direct mental processes could inform him,
the only trickery involved had been employed by Germany and Spike
Brennon. Germany's behaviour was more understandable than the _New
Dawn_, and Spike Brennon was much simpler in his words. Spike said it
was a dandy chance to get into a real scrap, and all husky lads should
be there in a split second at the first call. Perhaps Wall Street had
tricked Spike into tricking Wilbur Cowan. Anyway, Spike was determined.

Their decision was made one day after a brisk six rounds of mimic
battle. They soaped and bathed and dried their bod