Yet the
answer was for some time delayed.
There was a bitter Sunday, and its bitterness went everywhere, to
every place in the whole world that held high and generous hearts. Its
bitterness came to the special meeting in the "Frat hall," where there
were hearts, indeed, of that right sort, and one of them became vocal
in its bitterness. This was the heart of Fred Mitchell, who was now an
authority, being president of the Junior Class, chairman of the Prom
Committee, and other things pleasant to be and to live for at his age.
"For me, Brothers," he said, "I'd think I'd a great deal rather have
been shot through the head than heard the news from Washington to-day! I
tell you, I've spent the meanest afternoon I ever did in my life, and I
guess it's been pretty much the same with all of us. The worst of it
is, it looks as though there isn't a thing in the world we can do. The
country's been betrayed by a few blatherskites and boneheads that had
the power to do it, and all we can do we've just got to stand it. But
there's some Americans that aren't just standing it, and I want to tell
you a lot of 'em are men from the universities, just like us.
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