American fiction -- 20th century; Bildungsromans; World War, 1914-1918 -- United States -- Fiction; Young men -- Fiction
“Come on!” he said, hoarsely. “Don't stop _here_!”
“I will, and if you go on alone I'll yell at you. You got to stand right
here with all of 'em lookin' at you until--”
“I promise! My heavens, come _on_!”
Fred consented to end the moment of agony; and for the rest of the
summer found it impossible to persuade Ramsey to pass that house in his
company. “I won't do it!” Ramsey told him. “Your word of honour means
nothin' to me; you're liable to do anything that comes into your head,
and I'm gettin' old enough to not get a reputation for bein' seen with
people that act the idiot on the public streets. No, sir; we'll walk
around the block--at least, we will if you're goin' with _me_!”
And to Fred's delight, though he concealed it, they would make this
detour.
The evening after their return to the university both were busy with
their trunks and various orderings and disorderings of their apartment,
but Fred several times expressed surprise that his roommate should
be content to remain at home; and finally Ramsey comprehended the
implications. Mrs. Meigs's chandelier immediately jingled with the shock
of another crash upon the floor above.
“You let me up!” Fred commanded thickly, his voice muffled by the pile
of flannels, sweaters, underwear, and raincoats wherein his head
was being forced to burrow. “You let me up, darn you! _I_ didn't say
anything.” And upon his release he complained that the attack was
unprovoked. “I didn't say anything on earth to even hint you might want
to go out and look around to see if anybody in particular had got back
to college yet. I didn't even mention the _name_ of Dora Yo-- Keep off
o' me! My goodness, but you are sensitive!”
As a matter of fact, neither of them saw Dora until the first meeting of
the Lumen, whither they went as sophomores to take their pleasure in the
agony of freshmen debaters. Ramsey was now able to attend the Lumen, not
with complacence but at least without shuddering over the recollection
of his own spectacular first appearance there. He had made subsequent
appearances, far from brilliant yet not disgraceful, and as a spectator,
at least, he usually felt rather at his ease in the place. It cannot be
asserted, however, that he appeared entirely at his ease this evening
after he had read the “Programme” chalked upon the large easel
blackboard beside the chairman's desk. Three “Freshmen Debates” were
announced, and a “Sophomore Oration,” this last being followed by the
name, “D. Yocum, '18.” Ramsey made immediate and conspicuous efforts
to avoid sitting next to his roommate, but was not so adroit as to be
successful. However, Fred was merciful: the fluctuations of his friend's
complexion were an inspiration more to pity than to badinage.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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