One of the more enlightened biddies in Holworthy Hall catches up on her reading by picking last evening's newspapers out of the wastebasket each morning and perusing the more enticing headlines by whatever light is apt to penetrate that dingy grotto. The morning after the peace demonstration William Randolph Hearst succeeded in rousing her to a high pitch of excitement with accounts of subversive, un-American, and Marxist activities in our institutions of learning. Puzzled and alarmed she buttonholed a Holworthyite on his way to class with the bland question, "Mr. Burlingthwarp, what's a Commamist?" Disentangling politic 1 philosophies with an unprofessional mind, the young man endeavored to enlighten the harassed woman. They were a group of people, he said, who were running Russia, and were probably trying to get into power over here. They wanted to take everybody's money away, he went on to say, and give everybody an equal share. Uninterested in a class struggle, the biddie shrugged her shoulders and sighed resignedly. "They's always somethin' new, ain't they?" she said.