Jean—her whole family was depending on

her—and Beezus did not.

Once more Ramona looked at her book

of fairy tales waiting on the chair beside the front door, and as she looked at its worn

cover she had an inspiration. Maybe her idea would work, and maybe it wouldn’t. It was

worth a try.

“Willa Jean, you and Bruce will have to

excuse me now,” Ramona said in her politest voice. “I have to do my Sustained Silent

Reading.” Out of the corner of her eye she watched Mrs. Kemp.

“OK.” Willa Jean was not only impressed

by a phrase she did not understand, she had Bruce to boss around. Mrs. Kemp, who was

counting stitches, merely nodded.

Ramona picked up her book and settled

herself in the corner of the couch. Beezus caught her eye, and the two sisters exchanged conspiratorial smiles while Willa Jean and Bruce, now minus Uncle Rat, raced happily

around in a circle screaming with joy and

singing, “She’ll be coming ’round the mountain when she comes!”

Ramona blissfully read herself off into the land of princesses, kings, and clever youngest sons, satisfied that the Quimbys had a clever younger daughter who was doing her part.

44

3

The Hard-boiled Egg Fad

With all four members of the family

leaving at different times in differ-

ent directions, mornings were flurried in the Quimby household. On the days when Mr.

Quimby had an eight o’clock class, he left early in the car. Beezus left next because she walked to school and because she wanted to stop for Mary Jane on the way.

Ramona was third to leave. She enjoyed

45

these last few minutes alone with her mother now that Mrs. Quimby no longer reminded

her she must be nice to Willa Jean.

“Did you remember to give me a hard-

boiled egg in my lunch like I asked?” Ramona inquired one morning. This week hard-boiled eggs were popular with third graders, a fad started by Yard Ape, who sometimes

brought his lunch. Last week the fad had

been individual bags of corn chips. Ramona had been left out of that fad because her

mother objected to spending money on junk

food. Surely her mother would not object to a nutritious hard-boiled egg.

“Yes, I remembered the hard-boiled egg,

you little rabbit,” said Mrs. Quimby. “I’m glad you have finally learned to like them.”

Ramona did not feel it necessary to

explain to her mother that she still did not like hard-boiled eggs, not even when they

had been dyed for Easter. Neither did she

46

like soft-boiled eggs, because she did not like slippery, slithery food. Ramona liked deviled eggs, but deviled eggs were not the fad, at least not this week.

On the bus Ramona and Susan compared

lunches. Each was happy to discover that the other had a hard-boiled egg, and both were eager for lunchtime to come.

While Ramona waited for lunch period,

school turned out to be unusually interesting. After the class had filled out their arithmetic workbooks, Mrs.Whaley handed each