he English anarchist
Bernhard Shaw. Those on the que vive are expecting
sensational developments and campus talk is so extensively
occupied with discussions of the affair that the important
coming game with St. John's college is almost forgotten.

While the TIMES has always supported Plato College as one of
the chief glories in the proud crown of Minnesota learning,
we can but illy stomach such news. It goes without saying
that we cannot too strongly disapprove express our
disapproval of such incendiary utterances and we shall
fearlessly report the whole of this fair let the chips fall
where they may.

"There, Mr. Ericson," said Mrs. Henkel, a plump, decent, disapproving
person, who had known too many generations of great Platonians to be
impressed by anything, "you see what the public thinks of your
Professor Frazer. I told you people wouldn't stomach such news, and I
wouldn't wonder if they strongly disapproved."

"This ain't anything but gossip," said Carl, feebly; but as he read
the account in the _Weekly Times_ he was sick and frightened, such was
his youthful awe of print. He wanted to beat the mossy-whiskered
editor of the _Times_, who always had white food-stains on his lapels.
When he raised his eyes the coquette Mae Thurston tried to cheer him:
"It 'll all come out in the wash, Eric; don't worry. These editors
have to have something to write about or they couldn't fill up the
paper."

He pressed her foot under the table. He was chatty, and helped to keep
the general conversation away from the Frazer affair; but he was
growing more and more angry, with a desire for effective action which
expressed itself within him only by, "I'll show 'em! Makes me so
_sore_!"

* * * * *

Everywhere they discussed and rediscussed Professor Frazer: in the
dressing-room of the gymnasium, where the football squad dressed in
the sweat-reeking air and shouted at one another, balancing each on
one leg before small lockers, and rubbing themselves with brown,
unclean Turkish towels; in the neat rooms of girl co-eds with their
banners and cushions and pink comforters and chafing-dishes of nut
fudge and photographic postal-cards showing the folks at home; in the
close, horse-smelling, lap-robe and whip scattered office of the town
livery-stable, where Mr. Goff droned with the editor of the _Times_.

Everywhere Carl heard the echoes, and resolv