Henry and Ribsy (Henry Huggins #3)(17)

Ramona stopped by the jungle gym on the playground. “I want some P.T.A.!” she shrieked.

“But, Ramona,” protested Beezus, “how can you have any P.T.A.? Like Henry said, it’s just a bunch of ladies talking in the school auditorium and the seventh grade singing some songs for them.”

“It is not,” sobbed Ramona. “I want some now.”

“What’s she talking about anyway?” Henry was disgusted. All he wanted was a game of checkers and now it looked as if he had to stand around all afternoon arguing with a little kid about the P.T.A.

“I don’t know what she means.” Beezus sounded worried. “Come on, Ramona.”

Still clutching the lunch box, Ramona threw her arms around one of the pipes on the jungle gym and screamed. Ribsy put his paw on the lunch box. Ramona snatched it from him. “Go away,” she cried. “I want some P.T.A.”

Ribsy gave a short bark.

“I like P.T.A.,” sobbed Ramona and with her lunch box in one hand she began to climb the jungle gym to get out of Ribsy’s reach.

“You’ve got to find out,” Henry told Beezus. “If you don’t, she’ll just sit there and yowl.”

“I know it.” Beezus sounded tired. “What do you want to do with the P.T.A., Ramona?”

“Eat it,” shrieked Ramona, as she climbed higher on the jungle gym.

“Aw, how can you eat P.T.A.? I told you P.T.A. was just a bunch of ladies talking.” Henry kicked at a pebble in his disgust.

“Wait a minute! Now I know what she means,” exclaimed Beezus. “She thinks we’re spelling something in front of her.”

“How do you mean?” asked Henry.

“Well, at home when we talk about something to eat that she’s not supposed to have, we spell it.” Here Beezus lowered her voice to a whisper. “Like C-o-k-e and c-a-n-d-y. She thinks we’re spelling something we don’t want her to have. That’s why she wants it.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake. Leave it to Ramona.” Henry could see he was not going to get to play checkers that day. “Well, now what are we going to do?”

Beezus kept her voice to a whisper. “Let’s go across the street to the store and get her some cookies or something and tell her it’s P.T.A.”

“That’s a good idea.” Henry thought that for a girl Beezus was pretty sensible.

Ribsy started to follow Henry and Beezus to the store. Then he looked back at Ramona, sobbing on top of the jungle gym with the lunch box still in her hand, and decided to stay near his bone. Henry did not call Ribsy, because he knew dogs were not allowed in food stores.

Henry and Beezus looked around the store for something that cost a dime that they could tell Ramona was P.T.A. This was not easy to do, because Ramona was familiar with cookies, popsicles, and peanuts. They finally decided on a small bag of potato chips, because Beezus was sure Ramona did not know potato chips by name and because they wouldn’t drip.

When Henry and Beezus started back to the school grounds, they saw that Ribsy had his paws on the first rung of the jungle gym. “Wuf!” he said, and looked hungrily at the lunch box.

Henry also noticed two women looking at Ribsy and Ramona. One of the women was Mrs. Wisser, a friend of his mother’s. She pointed to Ribsy and then to Ramona.

Now what, thought Henry, hurrying across the street. He hoped Ribsy wasn’t in trouble. Not just before the fishing trip.

Mrs. Wisser was saying, “Look at the poor little thing. She’s frightened out of her wits.”

“I think it’s simply outrageous the way dogs are allowed to run loose in the schoolyard,” said the other woman. “I wonder if we dare try to pull him away so she can climb down.”

“I’d be afraid to go near him,” said Mrs. Wisser. “I know the dog. He belongs to the Huggins boy and I understand he’s dangerous. He bit the garbageman a week or so ago.”

The Huggins boy looked at Beezus and sighed. All he wanted was to play checkers, just one little old game of checkers, and now look what had happened. How was he ever going to explain to Mrs. Wisser? And now that Mrs. Wisser thought Ribsy had chased Ramona up on the jungle gym, she would tell everybody what a dangerous dog he was. And that meant more trouble. It probably meant his father wouldn’t take him fishing.

“Come on, Beezus,” said Henry. “Let’s try to tell her.”

“Oh, there you are, Henry Huggins,” said Mrs. Wisser. “Does your mother know your dog is loose on the school grounds?”

“No, Mrs. Wisser,” said Henry. “She’s—”

“I thought she didn’t,” interrupted Mrs. Wisser.

“My little sister isn’t afraid of the dog,” said Beezus quickly.

Ramona, who had stopped crying to listen, let out a howl. Mrs. Wisser and the other woman looked at each other and nodded.

“Wuf!” said Ribsy again.

“Henry, you hold your dog and I’ll try to get her down,” said Mrs. Wisser.

Henry took hold of Ribsy’s collar. He wondered if Mrs. Wisser would climb the jungle gym. He hoped so. “But she’s got—” he started to say.



“Don’t be frightened, dear,” Mrs. Wisser called to Ramona. “We won’t let the doggy hurt you.”