Ramona’s Engagement Ring

Chapter 5

Ramona’s Engagement Ring

“No!” said Ramona on the first rainy morning after she had started kindergarten.

“Yes,” said Mrs. Quimby.

“No!” said Ramona. “I won’t!”

“Ramona, be sensible,” said Mrs. Quimby.

“I don’t want to be sensible,” said Ramona. “I hate being sensible!”

“Now, Ramona,” said her mother, and Ramona knew she was about to be reasoned with. “You have a new raincoat. Boots cost money, and Howie’s old boots are perfectly good. The soles are scarcely worn.” “The tops aren’t shiny,” Ramona told her mother. “And they’re brown boots. Brown boots are for boys.”

“They keep your feet dry,” said Mrs. Quimby, “and that is what boots are for.”

Ramona realized she looked sulky, but she could not help herself. Only grown-ups would say boots were for keeping feet dry. Anyone in kindergarten knew that a girl should wear shiny red or white boots on the first rainy day, not to keep her feet dry, but to show off. That’s what boots were for—showing off, wading, splashing, stamping.

“Ramona,” said Mrs. Quimby sternly. “Get that look off your face this instant. Either you wear these boots or you stay home from school.”

Ramona recognized that her mother meant what she said, and so, because she loved kindergarten, she sat down on the floor and dragged on the hated brown boots, which did not go with her new flowered plastic raincoat and hat.

Howie arrived in a yellow slicker that was long enough for him to grow into for at least two years and a yellow rain hat that almost hid his face. Beneath the raincoat Ramona glimpsed a pair of shiny brown boots, which she supposed she would have to wear someday when they were old and dull and dirty.

“Those are my old boots,” said Howie, looking at Ramona’s feet as they started off to school.

“You better not tell anybody.” Ramona plodded along on feet almost too heavy to lift. It was a perfect morning for anyone with new boots. Enough rain had fallen in the night to fill the gutters with muddy streams and to bring worms squirming out of the lawns onto the sidewalks.

The intersection by the school was unusually quiet that morning, because rain had halted construction on the new market. Ramona was so downhearted that she did not even tease Henry Huggins when he led her across the street. The kindergarten playground, as she had expected, was swarming with boys and girls in raincoats, most of them too big, and boots, most of them new. The girls wore various sorts of raincoats and red or white boots—all except Susan, who carried her new white boots so she would not get them muddy. The boys looked alike, because they all wore yellow raincoats and hats and brown boots. Ramona was not even sure which boy was Davy, not that he mattered to her this morning. Her feet felt too heavy for chasing anyone.

Part of the class had lined up properly by the door, waiting for Miss Binney, while the rest ran about clomping, splashing, and stamping. “Those are boys’ boots you’re wearing,” said Susan to Ramona.

Ramona did not answer. Instead she picked up a smooth pink worm that lay wiggling on the playground and, without really thinking, wound it around her finger.

“Look!” yelled Davy from beneath his big rain hat. “Ramona’s wearing a ring made out of a worm!”

Ramona had not thought of the worm as a ring until now, but she saw at once that the idea was interesting. “See my ring!” she shouted, thrusting her fist toward the nearest face.

Boots were temporarily forgotten. Everyone ran screaming from Ramona to avoid being shown her ring.

“See my ring! See my ring!” shouted Ramona, racing around the playground on feet that were suddenly much lighter.

When Miss Binney appeared around the corner, the class scrambled to line up by the door. “Miss Binney! Miss Binney!” Everyone wanted to be the first to tell. “Ramona is wearing a worm for a ring!” “It’s a pink worm,” said Ramona, thrusting out her hand. “Not an old dead white worm.”

“Oh…what a pretty worm,” said Miss Binney bravely. “It’s so smooth and…pink.”

Ramona elaborated. “It’s my engagement ring.”

“Who are you engaged to?” asked Ann.

“I haven’t decided,” answered Ramona.

“Not me,” Davy piped up.

“Not me,” said Howie.

“Not me,” said Eric R.

“Well…a…Ramona…” Miss Binney was searching for words. “I don’t think you should wear your…ring during kindergarten. Why don’t you put it down on the playground in a puddle so that it will…stay fresh.” Ramona was happy to do anything Miss Binney wanted her to. She unwound the worm from her finger and placed it carefully in a puddle, where it lay limp and still.

After that Ramona raced around the playground with a worm around her finger whenever her mother made her wear Howie’s old boots to school, and when everyone asked who she was engaged to, she always answered, “I haven’t decided.” “Not me!” Davy always said, followed by Howie, Eric R., and any other boy who happened to be near.

Then one Saturday Mrs. Quimby examined Ramona’s scuffed shoes and discovered that not only were the heels worn down, the leather of the toes was worn through because Ramona stopped her lopsided two-wheeled tricycle by dragging her toes on the concrete. Mrs. Quimby had Ramona stand up while she felt her feet through the leather.

“It’s time for new shoes,” Mrs. Quimby decided. “Get your jacket and your boots, and we’ll drive down to the shopping center.”

“It isn’t raining today,” said Ramona. “Why do I have to take boots?”

“To see if they will fit over your new shoes,” answered her mother. “Hurry along, Ramona.”

When they reached the shoe store, Ramona’s favorite shoe salesman said, as Ramona and her mother sat down, “What’s the matter with my little Petunia today? Don’t you have a smile for me?” Ramona shook her head and looked sadly and longingly at a row of beautiful shiny girls’ boots displayed on one side of the store. There she sat with Howie’s dingy old brown boots beside her. How could she smile? A babyish nursery-school girl, who was wearing new red boots, was rocking joyously on the shoe store’s rocking horse while her mother paid for the boots.

“Well, we’ll see what we can do for you,” said the salesman briskly, as he pulled off Ramona’s shoes and made her stand with her foot on the measuring stick. Finding the right pair of oxfords for her did not take him long.

“Now try on the boots,” said Mrs. Quimby in her no-nonsense voice, when Ramona had walked across the shoe store and back in her new shoes.

For a moment, as Ramona sat down on the floor and grasped one of the hated boots, she considered pretending she could not get it on. However, she knew she could not get away with this trick, because the shoe-store man understood both children and shoes. She pulled and yanked and tugged and managed to get her foot most of the way in. When she stood up she was on tiptoe inside the boot. Her mother tugged some more, and her shoe went all the way into the boot.

“There,” said Mrs. Quimby. Ramona sighed.

The babyish nursery-school girl stopped rocking long enough to announce to the world, “I have new boots.”

“Tell me, Petunia,” said the shoe man. “How many boys and girls in your kindergarten?”

“Twenty-nine,” said Ramona with a long face. Twenty-nine, most of them with new boots. The happy booted nursery-school baby climbed off the rocking horse, collected her free balloon, and left with her mother.

The shoe man spoke to Mrs. Quimby. “Kindergarten teachers like boots to fit loosely so the children can manage by themselves. I doubt if Petunia’s teacher has time to help with fifty-eight boots.” “I hadn’t thought of that,” said Mrs. Quimby. “Perhaps we had better look at boots after all.”

“I’ll bet Petunia here would like red boots,” said the shoe man. When Ramona beamed, he added, “I had a hunch that would get a smile out of you.”

When Ramona left the shoe store with her beautiful red boots, girls’ boots, in a box, which she carried herself, she was so filled with joy she set her balloon free just to watch it sail over the parking lot and up, up into the sky until it was a tiny red dot against the gray clouds. The stiff soles of her new shoes made such a pleasant noise on the pavement that she began to prance. She was a pony. No, she was one of the three Billy Goats Gruff, the littlest one, trip-trapping over the bridge that the troll was hiding under. Ramona trip-trapped joyfully all the way to the parked car, and when she reached home she trip-trapped up and down the hall and all around the house.

“For goodness’ sake, Ramona,” said Mrs. Quimby, while she was marking Ramona’s name in the new boots, “can’t you just walk?”

“Not when I’m the littlest Billy Goat Gruff,” answered Ramona, and trip-trapped down the hall to her room.

Unfortunately, there was no rain the next morning so Ramona left her new boots at home and trip-trapped to school, where she did not have much chance of catching Davy because he could run faster than she could trip-trap in her stiff new shoes. She trip-trapped to her seat, and later, because she was art monitor who got to pass out drawing paper, she trip-trapped to the supply cupboard and trip-trapped up and down the aisles passing out paper.

“Ramona, I would like it if you walked quietly,” said Miss Binney.

“I am the littlest Billy Goat Gruff,” explained Ramona. “I have to trip-trap.”

“You may trip-trap when we go outdoors.” Miss Binney’s voice was firm. “You may not trip-trap in the classroom.”

At playtime the whole class turned into Billy Goats Gruff and trip-trapped around the playground, but none so joyfully or so noisily as Ramona. The gathering clouds, Ramona noticed, were dark and threatening. Sure enough, that evening rain began to fall, and all night long it beat against the south side of the Quimbys’ house. The next morning Ramona, in her boots and raincoat, was out long before Howie arrived to walk to school with her. She waded through the wet lawn, and her boots became even shinier when they were wet. She stamped in all the little puddles on the driveway. She stood in the gutter and let muddy water run over the toes of her beautiful new boots. She gathered wet leaves to dam the gutter so she could stand in deeper water. Howie, as she might have expected, was used to his boots and not a bit excited. He did enjoy stamping in puddles, however, and together they stamped and splashed on the way to school.

Ramona came to a halt at the intersection guarded by Henry Huggins in his yellow slicker, rain hat, and brown boots. “Look at all that nice mud,” she said, pointing to the area that was to be the parking lot for the new market. It was such nice mud, rich and brown with puddles and little rivers in the tire tracks left by the construction trucks. It was the best mud, the muddiest mud, the most tempting mud Ramona had ever seen. Best of all, the day was so rainy there were no construction workers around to tell anyone to stay out of the mud.

“Come on, Howie,” said Ramona. “I’m going to see how my boots work in the mud.” Of course, she would get her shiny boots muddy, but then she could have the fun of turning the hose on them that afternoon after kindergarten.

Howie was already following Henry across the street.

When Henry executed his sharp about-face on the opposite curb, he saw that Ramona had been left behind. “You were supposed to cross with me,” he told her. “Now you have to wait until some more kids come.” “I don’t care,” said Ramona happily, and marched off to the muddy mud.

“Ramona, you come back here!” yelled Henry. “You’re going to get into trouble.”

“Traffic boys aren’t supposed to talk on duty,” Ramona reminded him, and marched straight into the mud. Surprisingly her feet started to slide out from under her. She had not realized that mud was so slippery. Managing to regain her balance, she set each boot down slowly and carefully before she pulled her other boot from the sucking mud. She waved happily to Henry, who seemed to be going through some sort of struggle within himself. He kept opening his mouth, as if he wanted to say something, and then closing it again. Ramona also waved at the members of the morning kindergarten, who were watching her through the playground fence.

More mud clung to her boots with each step. “Look at my elephant feet!” she called out. Her boots were becoming heavier and heavier.

Henry gave up his struggle. “You’re going to get stuck!” he yelled.

“No, I’m not!” insisted Ramona, and discovered she was unable to raise her right boot. She tried to raise her left boot, but it was stuck fast. She grasped the top of one of her boots with both hands and tried to lift her foot, but she could not budge it. She tried to lift the other foot, but she could not budge it either. Henry was right. Miss Binney was not going to like what had happened, but Ramona was stuck.

“I told you so!” yelled Henry against the traffic rules.

Ramona was becoming warmer and warmer inside her raincoat. She pulled and lifted. She could raise her feet, one at a time, inside her boots, but no matter how she tugged and yanked with her hands she could not lift her precious boots from the mud.

Ramona grew warmer and warmer. She could never get out of this mud. Kindergarten would start without her, and she would be left all alone in the mud. Miss Binney would not like her being out here in the mud, when she was supposed to be inside singing the dawnzer song and doing seat work. Ramona’s chin began to quiver.

“Look at Ramona! Look at Ramona!” shrieked the kindergarten, as Miss Binney, in a raincoat and with a plastic hood over her hair, appeared on the playground.

“Oh dear!” Ramona heard Miss Binney say.

Drivers of cars paused to stare and smile as tears mingled with the rain on Ramona’s cheeks. Miss Binney came splashing across the street. “My goodness, Ramona, how are we going to get you out?” “I d-don’t know,” sobbed Ramona. Miss Binney could not get stuck in the mud, too. The morning kindergarten needed her.

A man called out from a car, “What you need is a few boards.”

“Boards would only sink into the muck,” said a passerby on the sidewalk.

The first bell rang. Ramona sobbed harder. Now Miss Binney would have to go into school and leave her out here alone in the mud and the rain and the cold. By now some of the older boys and girls were staring at her from the windows of the big school.

“Now don’t worry, Ramona,” said Miss Binney. “We’ll get you out somehow.”

Ramona, who wanted to be helpful, knew what happened when a car was stuck in the mud. “Could you call a t-tow t-truck?” she asked with a big sniff. She could see herself being yanked out of the mud by a heavy chain hooked on the collar of her raincoat. She found this picture so interesting that her sobs subsided, and she waited hopefully for Miss Binney’s answer.

The second bell rang. Miss Binney was not looking at Ramona. She was looking thoughtfully at Henry Huggins, who seemed to be staring at something way off in the distance. The traffic sergeant blew his whistle summoning the traffic boys to return from their posts to school.

“Boy!” Miss Binney called out. “Traffic boy!”

“Who? Me?” asked Henry, even though he was the only traffic boy stationed at that intersection.

“That’s Henry Huggins,” said helpful Ramona.

“Henry, come here, please,” said Miss Binney.

“I’m supposed to go in when the whistle blows,” said Henry, as he glanced up at the boys and girls who were watching from the big brick building.

“But this is an emergency,” Miss Binney pointed out. “You have boots on, and I need your help in getting this little girl out of the mud. I’ll explain to the principal.” Henry did not seem very enthusiastic as he splashed across the street, and when he came to the mud he heaved a big sigh before he stepped into it. Carefully he picked his way through the muck and the puddles to Ramona. “Now see what you got me into,” he said crossly. “I told you to keep out of here.” For once Ramona had nothing to say. Henry was right.

“I guess I’ll have to carry you,” he said, and his tone was grudging. “Hang on.” He stooped and grasped Ramona around the waist, and she obediently put her arms around the wet collar of his raincoat. Henry was big and strong. Then, to Ramona’s horror, she found herself being lifted right out of her beautiful new boots.

“My boots!” she wailed. “You’re leaving my boots!”

Henry slipped, slid, and in spite of Ramona’s weight regained his balance. “You keep quiet,” he ordered. “I’m getting you out of here, aren’t I? Do you want us both to land in the mud?” Ramona hung on and said no more. Henry lurched and skidded through the mud to the sidewalk, where he set his burden down in front of Miss Binney.

“Yea!” yelled some big boys who had opened a window. “Yea, Henry!” Henry scowled in their direction.

“Thank you, Henry,” said Miss Binney with real gratitude, as Henry tried to scrape the mud from his boots on the edge of the curb. “What do you say, Ramona?” “My boots,” said Ramona. “He left my new boots in the mud!” How lonely they looked, two bright spots of red in all that mud. She could not leave her boots behind, not when she had waited so long to get them. Somebody might take them, and she would have to go back to shoving her feet into Howie’s ugly old boots.

“Don’t worry, Ramona,” said Miss Binney, looking anxiously toward the rest of her morning kindergarten growing wetter by the minute as they watched through the fence. “Nobody is going to take your boots on a day like this. We’ll get them back when it stops raining and the ground dries off.” “But they’ll fill up with rain without my feet in them,” protested Ramona. “The rain will spoil them.”

Miss Binney was sympathetic but firm. “I know how you feel, but I’m afraid there isn’t anything we can do about it.”

Miss Binney’s words were too much for Ramona. After all the times she had been forced to wear Howie’s ugly old brown boots she could not leave her beautiful new red boots out in the mud to fill up with rain-water. “I want my boots,” she howled, and began to cry again.

“Oh, all right,” said Henry crossly. “I’ll get your old boots. Don’t start crying again.” And heaving another gusty sigh, he waded back out into the empty lot, yanked the boots out of the mud, and waded back to the sidewalk, where he dropped them at Ramona’s feet. “There,” he said, looking at the mud-covered objects with dislike.

Ramona expected him to add, I hope you’re satisfied, but he did not. He just started across the street to school.

“Thank you, Henry,” Ramona called after him without being reminded. There was something very special about being rescued by a big, strong traffic boy in a yellow slicker.

Miss Binney picked up the muddy boots, and said, “What beautiful red boots. We’ll wash off the mud in the sink, and they’ll be as good as new. And now we must hurry back to the kindergarten.” Ramona smiled at Miss Binney, who was again, she decided, the nicest, most understanding teacher in the world. Not once had Miss Binney scolded or made any tiresome remarks about why on earth did Ramona have to do such a thing. Not once had Miss Binney said she should know better.

Then something on the sidewalk caught Ramona’s eye. It was a pink worm that still had some wiggle left in it. She picked it up and wound it around her finger as she looked toward Henry. “I’m going to marry you, Henry Huggins!” she called out.

Even though traffic boys were supposed to stand up straight, Henry seemed to hunch down inside his raincoat as if he were trying to disappear.

“I’ve got an engagement ring, and I’m going to marry you!” yelled Ramona after Henry, as the morning kindergarten laughed and cheered.

“Yea, Henry!” yelled the big boys, before their teacher shut the window.

As she followed Miss Binney across the street Ramona heard Davy’s joyful shout. “Boy, I’m glad it isn’t me!”