American fiction -- 20th century; Bildungsromans; World War, 1914-1918 -- United States -- Fiction; Young men -- Fiction
“One thing that was kind o' funny about it, Fred,” he said, “I didn't
know what to call her.”
Mr. Mitchell, stretched upon the window seat in their “study,” and
looking out over the town street below and the campus beyond the street,
had already thought it tactful to ambush his profound amusement by
turning upon his side, so that his face was toward the window and away
from his companion. “What did you want to call her?” he inquired in a
serious voice. “Names?”
“No. You know what I mean. I mean I had to just keep callin' her 'you';
and that gets kind of freaky when you're talkin' to anybody a good while
like that. When she'd be lookin' away from me, and I'd want to start
sayin' something to her, you know, why, I wouldn't know how to get
started exactly, without callin' her something. A person doesn't want to
be always startin' off with 'See here,' or things like that.”
“I don't see why you let it trouble you,” said Fred. “From how you've
always talked about her, you had a perfectly handy way to start off with
anything you wanted to say to her.”
“What with?”
“Why didn't you just say, 'Oh, you Teacher's Pet!' That would--”
“Get out! What I mean is, she called me 'Ramsey' without any bother; it
seems funny I got stumped every time I started to say 'Dora.' Someway I
couldn't land it, and it certainly would 'a' sounded crazy to call her
'Miss Yocum' after sittin' in the same room with her every day from the
baby class clear on up through the end of high school. That _would_ 'a'
made me out an idiot!”
“What did you call her?” Fred asked.
“Just nothin' at all. I started to call her something or other a hundred
times, I guess, and then I'd balk. I'd get all ready, and kind of make a
sort of a sound, and then I'd have to quit.”
“She may have thought you had a cold,” said Fred, still keeping his back
turned.
“I expect maybe she did--though I don't know; most of the time she
didn't seem to notice me much, kind of.”
“She didn't?”
“No. She was too upset, I guess, by what she was thinkin' about.”
“But if it hadn't been for that,” Fred suggested, “you mean she'd have
certainly paid more attention to who was sitting on the bench with her?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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