Ramona Forever by Beverly Cleary Page A

awful man here ? How did she meet him?”
    â€œHe remembered her from high school and asked Howie’s mother about her. She called to ask if I thought my sister remembered him, and I said she did, so he phonedher, and now they’re coming to dinner.”
    So that was what the mysterious telephone calls were all about, thought Ramona, but she said, “Well, he better not spit around here.”
    â€œYou behave yourself,” said Mrs. Quimby, and meant it.
    Ramona made sure she answered the doorbell when the guests arrived. There they stood—Aunt Bea and Uncle Hobart.
    â€œGood evening, Ramona.” Uncle Hobart, who had grown a neat beard and was wearing a jacket and tie, spoke to Ramona as if they were the same age.
    Ramona was blunt. “Mr. Kemp, how come you’re still here?” Nobody would catch her calling him Uncle Hobart even though, because of Howie, this was the way she thought of him.
    â€œRamona!” Mrs. Quimby’s voice was a warning. “Come on in,” she said to the couple. “Don’t pay any attention to Ramona.”
    Aunt Bea laughed and said to Ramona, “Hobart and I have renewed our high school friendship.”
    â€œDoes he still spit?” Ramona asked under her breath, hoping her mother wouldn’t hear.

    â€œNot on the carpet,” answered Uncle Hobart under his breath.
    Mrs. Quimby had heard. “Ramona, do you want to go to your room?”
    â€œNo.” Ramona sulked. Aunt Bea would be sorry if the family moved off to the land of sheep. Where would she go for Thanksgiving and Christmas? Her imagination spun a sad picture of Aunt Bea alone in her apartment, eating a frozen chicken pie.
    When dinner was served, Ramona was seated across from Uncle Hobart. While the adults talked and laughed, she stared at her plate until a lull came in the conversation, when she asked as politely as she could under the circumstances, “Mr. Kemp, I expect you’ll be going back to Saudi Arabia soon.”
    He smiled a very nice smile. “What’s the matter, Ramona? Are you trying to get rid of me?”
    Ramona looked down at her plate.
    â€œAs a matter of fact, I’m not going to Saudi Arabia at all,” Uncle Hobart informed Ramona. “I’m going to Alaska.”
    At least he was going someplace.
    â€œThat’s why I grew a beard,” he explained. “Alaska is cold in winter and full of mosquitoes in summer.”
    â€œOh,” said Ramona.
    â€œOf course, women can’t grow beards, so they scratch a lot in summer,” said Uncle Hobart.
    Ramona refused to laugh.
    When dessert had been eaten by everyone except Mrs. Quimby, who was careful about calories, and the adults were drinking coffee, Ramona was about to ask to be excused when Uncle Hobart spoke directly to her. “Ramona,” he said, “how would you like to have me for an uncle?”
    Ramona felt her face grow red. She was surprised and puzzled by his question. Shewanted to say, No, thank you. Of course, grown-ups would think her rude, so she said, “You’re already Howie and Willa Jean’s uncle.”
    â€œI would like to have a couple of readymade nieces,” said Uncle Hobart.
    Ramona had not caught on. “But how could you be our uncle?” she asked.
    â€œNothing to it,” said Uncle Hobart. “All I have to do is marry your Aunt Beatrice.”
    Ramona sank back in her chair and thought, How dumb can I get? Aunt Bea was trying to hide her laughter, which did not make Ramona feel any better.
    â€œYou mean—” began Beezus.
    Aunt Bea burst out laughing. “Hobart and I are getting married in two weeks, before we leave for Alaska. There is oil in Alaska, too, you know.”
    Ramona frowned at Uncle Hobart. Why didn’t he come right out and say he and AuntBea were going to marry? Her parents were smiling. They already knew and hadn’t said a word. Traitors! Ramona felt as if her