"But doesn't it seem kind o' funny to you,
Fred?"
"Well, I don't know."
"It does to me," Ramsey insisted. "It certainly does to me."
"Yes," said Fred cruelly. "I've noticed you said so, but it don't look
any funnier than you do when you say it."
Suddenly he sent forth a startling shout. "_Wow!_ You're as red as a
blushing beet."
"I am not!"
"Y'are!" shouted Fred. "Wow! The ole woman-hater's got the flushes! Oh,
look at the pretty posy!"
And, jumping down from the window seat, he began to dance round his much
perturbed comrade, bellowing. Ramsey bore with him for a moment, then
sprang upon him; they wrestled vigorously, broke a chair, and went to
the floor with a crash that gave the chandelier in Mrs. Meig's parlour,
below, an attack of jingles.
"You let me up!" Fred gasped.
"You take your solemn oath to shut up? You goin' to swear it?"
"All right. I give my solemn oath," said Fred; and they rose, arranging
their tousled attire.
"Well," said Fred, "when you goin' to call on her?"
"You look here!" Ramsey approached him dangerously.
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