First of all, Mrs. Quimby found a fulltime job working for another doctor, which was good news. However, even a second grader could understand that one paycheck would not stretch as far as two paychecks, especially when there was so much talk of taxes, whatever they were. Mrs. Quimby’s new job meant that Mr. Quimby had to be home when Ramona returned from school.

Ramona and her father saw a lot of one another. At first she thought having her father to herself for an hour or two every day would be fun, but when she came home, she found him running the vacuum cleaner, filling out job applications, or sitting on the couch, smoking and staring into space. He could not take her to the park because he had to stay near the telephone. Someone might call to offer him a job. Ramona grew uneasy. Maybe he was too worried to love her anymore.

One day Ramona came home to find her father in the living room drinking warmed-over coffee, smoking, and staring at the television set. On the screen a boy a couple of years younger than Ramona was singing:

Forget your pots, forget your pans.

It’s not too late to change your plans.

Spend a little, eat a lot,

Big fat burgers, nice and hot

At your nearest Whopperburger!

Ramona watched him open his mouth wide to bite into a fat cheeseburger with lettuce and tomato spilling out of the bun and thought wistfully of the good old days when the family used to go to the restaurant on payday and when her mother used to bring home little treats—stuffed olives, cinnamon buns for Sunday breakfast, a bag of potato chips.

“That kid must be earning a million dollars.” Mr. Quimby snuffed out his cigarette in a loaded ashtray. “He’s singing that commercial every time I turn on the television.”

A boy Ramona’s age earning a million dollars? Ramona was all interest. “How’s he earning a million dollars?” she asked. She had often thought of all the things they could do if they had a million dollars, beginning with turning up the thermostat so they wouldn’t have to wear sweaters in the house to save fuel oil.

Mr. Quimby explained. “They make a movie of him singing the commercial, and every time the movie is shown on television he gets paid. It all adds up.”