“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.”