“Sew,” answered Mrs. Quimby.“I’ve been

trying to finish a blouse for weeks.”

Sewing seemed like a cozy way to spend

a rainy morning. Ramona watched her

mother get out the portable sewing machine

and set it on the dining-room table along

with a pattern and bundle of fabric.

“I’m going to wash my hair,” announced

Beezus.

28

“Again?” inquired Mrs. Quimby. “You washed it only day before yesterday.”

“But it’s so oily,” complained Beezus.

“Don’t worry, it’s just your age,” reassured Mrs. Quimby. “You’ll outgrow it.”

“Yes,” said Beezus gloomily. “In about a

million years when I’m too old to care.”

“You’ll never be that old,” said Mrs.

Quimby. “I promise.”

Ramona, bored with her sister’s daily

complaints about oily hair, leaned on the

dining-room table to watch her mother.

“I like it when you stay home,” she

remarked, thinking of the days before her

mother had gone to work when the house

had smelled of baking cookies or homemade

bread on Saturday morning.“Can I sew, too?”

she asked, picturing a companionable morn-

ing close to her mother. She imagined a

neighbor dropping in and saying, Ramona is

her mother’s girl, as the two of them stitched 29

away together. Yes, her mother would answer, I can’t get along without Ramona.

“Of course you may sew. You know where

the scrap bag is,” answered her mother with a smile. “What would you like to make?”

“I’ll have to think,” Ramona said. She

went to her room and in a moment

returned with a tired-looking stuffed ele-

phant and a large piece of red-and-white

checked cloth left over from a dress her

mother had made for her when she was in

kindergarten. Ramona had liked that dress

because it matched the red plastic hat the

firemen gave her when the kindergarten

class visited the fire department.

Mrs. Quimby looked up from the sewing

machine.“I haven’t seen Ella Funt for a long time,” she remarked as Ramona stood the

elephant on its four feet on the table.

“I’m going to make her some slacks,” said

Ramona as she spread out the fabric. “All

30

my other animals have clothes. Except that snake.”

Mrs. Quimby considered. “Slacks for an

elephant won’t be easy. Why not make slacks

for Chevrolet?”

“She’s too beat up,” said Ramona critically.

“If I were you, I would—” began Mrs.

Quimby as Ramona studied the checked

cloth.

“I can do it,” interrupted Ramona, who was impatient with instructions. Mrs. Quimby said no more. The sewing machine began to

hum. Ramona picked up her mother’s pink-

ing shears and began to cut. There was some-

thing satisfying about using pinking shears

and watching fabric part in such a neat zigzag line. Working quietly at the table with her

mother was even more satisfying. Even the

grouchy old cat, Picky-picky, sitting on a