A Sinister Plot

Two healthy-looking boys in white trousers, green sweaters with large "D's" and green and white woolie caps were waiting at the train station. Kicking their heels, together, they sprinted over two fire plugs and headed for us.

"You gals from the Radcliffe NEWS," they said to us. "We've, uh, well, we're here to meet you. Take you back to Hanover." "Oh," we said.

They lifted us into the rumble seat. "Well, what's the cry? You up here on business?" Exchanged glances. "Or just for a good time?" "We're here for a purpose. Feature issue on you," we said.

Further exchanged glances were interrupted when one of the boys lost his woolie cap. "Stop," he shouted. "Got to go back and get my woolie cap." "Can't stop," the driver said in glee. "Hurry."

"GOT to stop." He smiled apologetically. "Symbol, you know." Then proudly, "Green Key." Friend stopped the car and Hatless raced back over a bridge or so to retrieve the woolie. He clutched it firmly. "We wear these uniforms when we meet people." "Oh," we said, "that's nice."

We had arrived at Hanover. Boys from the different organizations came over to meet us. Dartmouth is causal but friendly, they said. Several times.

Outdoors Sort

Off we went on appointed rounds, each with a Dartmouth guide, causal but friendly, in tow. At the Green Key president's room our guide left us, muttering that Dartmouth kept one awfully busy, and that he had to rush off to there big meeting before the Big Bonfire.

The Key president came to the door in a blue and green plaid knee-length bathrobe. No shoes. "Sit down," he said. "Excuse me a moment." He was back, still in bathrobe. Now wearing shoes.

"The Real Scoop"

We began the interview. "Why would a boy come here instead of to Harvard?" we asked amiably.

"Well, I really couldn't say. Well, perhaps he's an outdoors sort of man. Have you seen the DOC--the Outing Club? They're pretty important people. Organizations are big up here, we use them as a substitute for sex."

We wrote down "outdoorsy" and underlined it fiercely. "What are you writing down?" he asked. "I guess I'd better tell you we know all about you girls." "What?"

"Don't bat your eyes at me. We know you're up here for the CRIMSON to help them with their parody." "Oh," we said, "why?"

"Well, we're not so stupid. You think of Radcliffe, you think of Harvard. If anybody thinks about either. Then all the organizations got your letters the same day saying you were coming. We're not so stupid. We knew you'd gone down to Yale last year, so (pause) we, WE called YALE! Pause. "We got the real scoop." "Oh?"

Pause. "They said," he tightened the belt on his bathrobe, "They said you were nice girls, but you distorted things. So we have our eyes open."

"You flatter us," we said. "Really that's awfully flattering."

"It might interest you to know," he said, "that the two boys who met your train had INSTRUCTIONS. In fact, right over here I have a written copy of the conversation you held on the way back in the car. And we have that little girl's notebook."

"What did you think about the exciting incident about the woolie cap?" we asked. "Those woolie caps are just darling."

He ignored us. "We were prepared to give you a Moscow Tour. Will you PLEASE stop batting your eyelashes? Are you sure you're not from the CRIMSON?"

"Don't Be Childish"

The rest of the day passed in the same manner. Finally arriving at the hotel, we were accompanied to the room by three armed guides. Once inside they showed no signs of leaving. "Do you suppose we're all spending the night together?" one of the NEWS girls said. "Planning to sleep here or next door?"

"We're staying up all night and watch for those guys from the CRIMSON," they said. "Are those boys coming up here this weekend?" "Don't be childish," we said, "They're down at Columbia. They have other things to do. Really."

They looked unbelieving. "Expect they'll send someone to foul up the presses again. They did that once. Sent a little boy in an old trenchcoat who claimed he was from some prep school. Only catch was, heh heh, one of our men know him. By God, I'n in no mood for such foolishness. If a CRIMSON editor shows up, by God, I'll bash his head in right against the presses."