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War! Mauney located the Beulah Weekly in the wood-box and searched its columns in vain for any mention of European politics. He wished that his father had consented to have a rural telephone installed, so that he could telephone now to some of the neighbors and find out what was transpiring. Next day in Beulah he asked the postmaster through the wicket if there seemed to be any danger of a war.

“War!” the man repeated, staring stupidly through his high-refractive spectacles. “Whereabouts?”

“In Europe.”

The postmaster reflectively poked his index finger into his mouth to free his molar teeth from remnants of his recent supper.

“I guess not,” he said lazily. “I ain’t heard nothin’ about it.”

“Do you know a good Merlton newspaper?” Mauney enquired.

“Oh, yes,” he replied, his face at once brightening to a patronizing smile. “The Merlton Globe is the best. It is the newsiest paper printed in the country, unexcelled for its editorials, has the largest unsolicited circulation, is unequalled for its want ad. columns, and reflects daily the current thought and events of both hemispheres. Yuh’d certainly get what yer huntin’ for in the Merlton Globe, Mr. Bard, ’cause if there’s any war on anywhere—don’t matter where—they’d most likely have it.”