"But it is. I'm not joking," persisted Peter John seriously.
"No doubt. No doubt. But what we've come for is to tell you about the parade."
"Parade? What parade?" inquired Foster.
"Why, every fall there is a parade of the freshmen. They have a band usually, at least most of the classes have had one and as yours is the best class that ever entered college, why you won't want to fall behind the others I know."
"Who pays for the band?" demanded Peter John.
"You do, that is, your class does."
"I won't pay a cent," retorted Peter John.
"You don't have to," laughed Allen. "Some of the others will make it up. I'm just telling you what the custom is and only for your own good."
"Go on with your story," interrupted Will. "Let's hear about the parade."
"It's to come off next Saturday afternoon, and we juniors usually help out in the scheme, you see. We try to arrange a part of it for you and help you out in some of the details. The whole thing is 'horse play,' just a sort of burlesque, and the more ridiculous you can make it, the better."