But the insidious Mitchell, evading him, fled to the other end of the room, picked up his cap, and changed his manner. “Come on, ole bag o' beans, let's be on our way to the 'frat house'; it's time. We'll call this all off.”
“You better!” Ramsey warned him; and they trotted out together.
But as they went along, Fred took Ramsey's arm confidentially, and said, “Now, honestly, Ram, ole man, when are you goin' to—”
Ramsey was still red. “You look here! Just say one more word—”
“Oh, no,” Fred expostulated. “I mean seriously, Ramsey. Honestly, I mean seriously. Aren't you seriously goin' to call on her some Caller's Night?”
“No, I'm not!”
“But why not?”
“Because I don't want to.”
“Well, seriously, Ramsey, there's only one Caller's Night before vacation, and so I suppose it hardly will be worth while; but I expect you'll see quite a little of her at home this summer?”
“No, I won't. I won't see her at all. She isn't goin' to be home this summer, and I wouldn't see anything of her if she was.”