quickly turned over his page of doodles, but not before she had a glimpse of dollar signs and babies, doodles that must mean he was

thinking about a baby.

“You have me to be your little girl,”

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Ramona reminded her father.

Her father rubbed his chin against the

top of Ramona’s head.“That’s right, and I’m mighty glad I do.”

“Then you wouldn’t want another little

girl, would you?” Ramona had to find out.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Mr. Quimby. “I

like little girls.”

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3

Being Good

On Monday, Howie looked troubled

when Ramona hopped off the school

bus and turned toward her house instead of his. “Well—so long, Ramona,” he said. “See you tomorrow.”

“Have fun with your uncle,” said Ramona,

and walked down Klickitat Street to the

Quimby house, where she found the hidden

key, let herself in the back door, washed her 47

hands, ate an apple, put the core in the garbage, changed from school clothes into

old jeans and a T-shirt, and sat down on the couch to read. She felt grown up and very, very good. How peaceful the Quimby house

was compared to the Kemp house, where

the television set was always tuned to soap operas and Willa Jean hopped around, yelling and insisting that Ramona play with her.

Being good wasn’t going to be hard after all.

Beezus came home a short time later.

The sisters greeted one another with unusual courtesy, so determined were they to be

good. Beezus took an apple into her room,

where she settled down to do her home-

work.

Picky-picky meowed to be let out of the

basement.

“Ramona, will you please let the cat out?”

Ordinarily, Beezus would have shouted,

Can’t you hear Picky-picky? Let him out.

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Another time, Ramona would have

shouted back, Let him out yourself. He’s

more your cat than mine. I wasn’t even born when we got him.Today she answered,“Yes,

Beezus,” as she opened the basement door.

Picky-picky immediately went to his dish

to see if someone had surprised him with a choice tidbit. Ramona returned to her book.

Picky-picky, finding only leftover Puss-

puddy, strolled out of the kitchen and went to the couch, where he waggled his rear

end as if he were about to jump up beside

Ramona. The effort was too great for his

old age. Ramona, who was always pleased

to receive attention from the cat, lifted him gently. He curled up beside her and purred as if his purring machinery had grown rusty and was wearing out.

Of course, the girls’ parents, when they

came home, were delighted to see what well-behaved daughters they had. The girls

looked closely at their mother’s waistline to see if she had gained weight since breakfast.

Tuesday afternoon was much the same as

Monday. Beezus talked a long time on the

telephone to a friend Ramona did not know.

The conversation was about who said what

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