“No.” The bear’s owner saw through

Ramona’s scheme.“Woger wants to sit there.”

Mr. Grumbie did not look particularly

pleased.

Willa Jean’s parents made no effort to stop

19

their daughter’s spree of pull and fling.

Ramona watched, feeling much older than

she had earlier in the day. She also felt awkward while Beezus moved around the living

room, dodging Willa Jean and pouring coffee

as if she were a grown-up herself.

At first guests were amused by Willa Jean.

But amusement faded as coffee mugs had to

be rescued every time Willa Jean passed by.

Pink Kleenex littered the room. Ramona

heard Mr. Huggins whisper, “How much

Kleenex in a box anyway?”

Mrs. McCarthy answered, “Two hundred

and fifty sheets.”

“That’s a lot of Kleenex,” said Mr.

Huggins.

When Willa Jean came to the last piece of

Kleenex, she climbed on the couch and

carefully laid it on Mr. Grumbie’s bald head.

“Now you have a hat,” she said.

Conversation died, and the party died,

too. No one called Willa Jean an angel now

or blessed her little heart.

The Grumbies were first to leave. Mr.

Grumbie handed the bear to Willa Jean’s

mother as Willa Jean filled her arms with pink 21

tissues and tossed them into the air.“Whee!”

she cried, and scooped up another armful.

“Whee!”

Their departure seemed to be a signal for

everyone to leave. “Don’t you want to take

the Kleenex with you?” Mrs. Quimby asked

Willa Jean’s mother.“We can put it in a bag.”

“That’s all right. Willa Jean has had her

fun.” Mrs. Kemp was helping Willa Jean into

her coat.

“By-by,” said Willa Jean prettily as her

father carried her and Woger out the door.

Other guests were telling Mr. and Mrs.

Quimby how much they had enjoyed the

brunch. Beezus was standing beside them as

if it had been her party, too. Mrs. McCarthy smiled.“I can see you are your mother’s girl,”

she said.

“I couldn’t get along without her,” Mrs.

Quimby replied generously.

“Good-by, Juanita,” said little Mrs. Swink.

22

“Good-by, Mrs. Swink,” answered Ramona, polite to the end.

She tossed an armful of Kleenex into the

air so that her mother might notice her, too.

Somehow tossing someone else’s pulled-out

Kleenex was not much fun, and Mrs.

Quimby was so busy saying good-by to other

guests she did not pay attention.

At last the door was closed, and from the

porch where the neighbors were opening

umbrellas, Ramona’s sharp ears caught her

name. “Willa Jean certainly reminds me of

Ramona when she was Willa Jean’s age,”

someone said.

And someone else answered, “She’s

Ramona all over again, all right.”

Ramona was filled with indignation.Willa

Jean is not me all over again, she thought fiercely. I was never such a pest.

“Whew!” said Mr. Quimby. “That’s over.

What’s the matter with those people, letting 23

the kid show off like that?”