I feel fine.” She was pleased that her father had noticed she now read books with chapters.

Mrs. Quimby was next. Ramona pulled

the covers tight around her ears when she

heard her mother coming down the hall. Mrs.

Quimby kissed Ramona and then looked at

her in the dim light from the hall. “Are you cold?” she asked.

“No,” answered Ramona.

“If you are, I can get another blanket from

the linen closet,” said Mrs. Quimby.Then she added, “Nighty-night. Sweet dreams.”

That was close, thought Ramona with a

twitch of her nose. When she said her

prayers, she added a request at the end.

Please, God, do not let anyone find out I

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wore my pajamas to school. She felt that although God was probably too busy to

think about her pajamas, asking would not

hurt and might even help.

Saturday morning she dressed in the

closet and hid the too-small pajamas in her

bottom drawer. She was happy to discover

that her father was home for the morning,

even though he would have to work at the

ShopRite Market Saturday afternoon and

evening. Today was going to be a good day.

The sun was shining, the sidewalk dry, and

her father could watch her skate.

That is, she was happy until Mr. Quimby

looked around the living room and said, “This is a home, not a base camp.” He had recently watched a television program on mountain

climbing. “Let’s all pitch in and clean this place up. Ramona, pick up all the newspapers and magazines and dust the living

room. Beezus, you can run the vacuum

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cleaner. Then both of you tackle your rooms.

Change the sheets and straighten up. Every

kettle must rest on its own bottom around

here.” He did not mention that this was one

of his grandmother’s sayings.

Except for washing the egg beater in sudsy

water so she could beat up a lot of suds,

Ramona did not care much for housework,

and this morning she longed to be outside

racing up and down the sidewalk on her roller skates. However, she carried the old newspapers out to the garage without complain-

ing and hastily flicked a dustcloth around the living room while Beezus plugged in the

vacuum cleaner and made it growl back and

forth across the carpet. Mr. Quimby went

off to clean the bathroom while Mrs. Quimby

was busy in the kitchen.

In a playful mood Beezus pushed the

vacuum cleaner right up to Ramona’s shoes.

Ramona squealed as if she expected the

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vacuum cleaner to nibble her toes. Beezus pursued her with the vacuum cleaner.

Around the carpet they went until Ramona

said, “Ha-ha, you can’t catch me!” and

crawled behind the couch. Beezus returned

to running the vacuum cleaner properly,

back and forth in straight lines, the way their father mowed the lawn.

Ramona sat hugging her knees behind