went downstairs with what he had written, and tacked it to the bulletin board just inside the entrance. The notice read:
MUD!
Will the students who have been inconvenienced by the condition of Nelson Avenue in front of the school sign their names to this and succeeding sheets?
George Praska,
Pres. Home Room 13.
Afterwards he could not explain why he had placed the notice on the board. He knew, instinctively, that it had something to do with the way that he had glimpsed and had lost.
Littlefield came to him just before afternoon classes started. "I knew you'd think of something, George. What's in the wind?"
"I don't know," Praska confessed frankly. "You don't know? What's the use of putting up a notice if you don't know what it's for?"
"Just fishing," George answered. And then in an instant, the vision was back again. He knew now why he had written the notice. He turned again to Littlefield; but the end, disgusted, had taken himself off.
From what comment Praska heard in the cor-
