Beezus and Ramona - Beverly Cleary [19]
As Beezus cleared the table and Mother served dessert—which was fig Newtons and, of course, applesauce—Ramona’s good behavior continued. Beezus found she was not very hungry for applesauce, but the rest of the family appeared to enjoy it. After Beezus had wiped the dishes for Mother she sat down to embroider her pot holders. She had decided to give Aunt Beatrice the pot holder with the dancing knife and fork on it instead of the one with the laughing teakettle.
Ramona approached her with Big Steve the Steam Shovel in her hand. “Beezus, will you read to me?” she asked.
She thinks I’ll say no and then she can make a fuss, thought Beezus. Well, I won’t give her a chance. “All right,” she said, putting down her pot holder and taking the book, while Ramona climbed into the chair beside her.
“Big Steve was a steam shovel. He was the biggest steam shovel in the whole city,” Beezus read. “‘Gr-r-r,’ growled Big Steve when he moved the earth to make way for the new highway.”
Father dropped his newspaper and looked at his two daughters sitting side by side. “I wonder,” he said, “exactly how long this is going to last.”
“Just enjoy it while it does,” said Mother, who was basting patches on the knees of a pair of Ramona’s overalls.
“Gr-r-r,” growled Ramona. “Gr-r-r.”
Beezus also wondered just how long this would go on. She didn’t enjoy growling like a steam shovel and she felt that perhaps Ramona was getting her own way after all. I’m trying to like her like I’m supposed to, anyhow, Beezus thought, and I do like her more than I did this afternoon when I found her in the basement. But what on earth will Mother ever do with all that applesauce?
5
A Party at
the Quimbys’
Saturday morning turned out to be cold and rainy. Beezus wiped the breakfast dishes for her mother and listened to Ramona, who was riding her tricycle around the house, singing, “Copycat, cappycot, copycat, cappycot,” over and over at the top of her voice, because she liked the sound of the words.
Beezus and her mother finished the dishes and went into the bedroom to put clean sheets on the beds. “Copycat, cappycot,” droned Ramona’s singsong.
“Ramona, why don’t you sing something else?” Mother asked at last. “We’ve been listening to that for a long time.”
“O.K.,” agreed Ramona. “I’m going to have a par-tee,” she sang. “I’m going to have a par-tee.”
“Thank you, Ramona. That’s better.” Mother held one end of a pillow under her chin while she slipped the other end into a fresh case. “You know, that reminds me,” she said to Beezus. “What would you like to do to celebrate your birthday next week?”
Beezus thought a minute. “Well…I’d like to have Aunt Beatrice over for dinner. She hasn’t been here for such a long time. And I’d like to have a birthday cake with pink frosting.” Beezus smoothed a fresh sheet over the bed. She almost enjoyed helping Mother when they could talk without Ramona’s interrupting all the time. The rain beating on the windows and Ramona’s happy singsong made the day seem cozy and peaceful.
“All right, that’s exactly what we’ll do.” Mother seemed really pleased with Beezus’s suggestions. “It’s a long time since we’ve seen Aunt Beatrice, but of course teachers always have a lot to do when school starts.” Beezus noticed that Mother gave a little sigh as she smoothed her side of the sheet. “She’ll probably have more time now that the semester has started and it really isn’t long before Thanksgiving and Christmas vacations. We’ll see a lot of her then.”
Why, Mother misses Aunt Beatrice too, thought Beezus. I believe she misses her as much as I do, even though she never says so.
Leaving Beezus with the new and surprising thought that grown-ups sometimes missed each other, Mother gathered up the sheets and pillowcases that had been removed from the beds and carried them to the basement. While she was downstairs the telephone rang. “Answer it, will you, Beezus,” Mother called.
When Beezus picked