could keep it secret if an epidemic hit an army camp. And they could
slap a control condition on any military area. But the panic will come
from the general public."

"Here's another batch," Andy said. "Small college towns under
twenty-five thousand population. All hard hit."

"Well, it's not split intellectually. Small colleges and small offices
and writers get it. Doctors don't and dentists don't. But we can't
tell who's got it on the military bases."

"And it's not geographical. Look, remember those two reports from
Tennessee? That place where they voted on water bonds or something,
everybody had it. But the country doctor in another section hadn't
even heard of it." Andy could only shake his head.

Bettijean heaved herself up from the chair and trudged back to the
outer office. She returned momentarily with a tray of food. Putting a
paper cup of coffee and a sandwich in front of Andy, she sat down and
nibbled at her snack like an exhausted chipmunk.

Andy banged a fist at his desk again. Coffee splashed over the rim of
his cup onto the clutter of papers. "It's here," he said angrily.
"It's here somewhere, but we can't find it."

"The answer?"

"Of course. What is it that girls in small offices do or eat or drink
or wear that girls in large offices don't do or eat or drink or wear?
What do writers and doctors do differently? Or poets and dentists?
What are we missing? What--"

* * * * *

In the outer office a girl cried out. A body thumped against a desk,
then a chair, then to the floor. Two girls screamed.

Andy bolted up from his chair. Racing to the door, he shouted back to
Bettijean, "Get a staff doctor and a chemist from the lab."

It was the girl who had been so nervous in his office earlier. Now she
lay in a pathetic little heap between her desk and chair, whimpering,
shivering, eyes wide with horror. The other girls clustered at the
hall door, plainly ready to stampede.

"It's not contagious," Andy growled. "Find some blankets or coats to
cover her. And get a glass of water."

The other girls, glad for the excuse, dashed away. Andy scooped up the
fallen girl and put her down gently on the close-jammed desks. He used
a chair cushion for a pillow. By then the other girls were back with a
blanket and the glass of water. He covered the girl, gave her a sip of
water and heard somebody murmur, "Poor Janis."

"Now," Andy said brightly, "how's that, Janis?"

She must