Ramona 3-Book Collection by Beverly Cleary

Author:Beverly Cleary
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins

“Open the door and let him out,” said Mother.

“I can’t,” shouted Ramona angrily, above Ribsy’s furious barks. “The bad old dog went and locked the door.”

“Oh, stop pretending.” Beezus was exasperated with Ramona for interrupting the game a second time. It was too bad that a girl couldn’t have a friend over for a game of checkers without her little sister spoiling all her fun.

“I’m not pretending,” screamed Ramona, clinging to the doorknob while Ribsy barked and scratched at the other side of the door.

“Ramona!” Mother’s voice was stern. “Let that dog out.”

“I can’t,” cried Ramona, rattling the bathroom door. “The bad old dog locked me out.”

“Nonsense. Dogs can’t lock doors,” scolded Mother. “Now open that door and let him out.”

Ramona began to sob and Ribsy barked louder. Ramona gave the door a good hard kick.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” muttered Henry.

“Ramona, I am very cross with you,” said Mother. She pried Ramona’s fingers loose and started to open the door. The knob would not turn. “That’s strange,” she remarked, and rattled the door herself. Then she hit the door with her fist to see if it might be stuck. The door did not budge. There was no doubt about it. The bathroom door was locked.

“But how could it be locked?” Henry asked.

“I told you Ribsy locked it,” Ramona shouted.

“Don’t be silly,” said Beezus impatiently.

“Now how on earth—” began Mother in a puzzled voice and then she interrupted herself. “Do you suppose when Ribsy was pawing at the door he bumped against the button in the center of the knob and really did lock the door? Of course! That’s exactly what must have happened.”

A dog that locked the bathroom door! That Ribsy, thought Beezus. He’s always getting into trouble, and now he’s locked the Quimbys out of their bathroom.

“I told you he locked the door,” Ramona said.

“Yes, but what was my dog doing in the bathroom in the first place?” Henry demanded.

“I put him there,” said Ramona.

“Ramona Quimby!” Even Mother sounded exasperated. “Sometimes I don’t know what gets into you. You know dogs don’t belong in the bathroom. Now go to your room and stay there until I tell you to come out.”

“Yes, but—” Ramona began.

“I don’t want to have to speak to you again.” It was unusual for Mother to be as stern as this.

Still crying, Ramona went to her room, which was next to the bathroom. Since Mother had not told her to close the door, Ramona stood just inside it and waited to see what would happen next.

“Where is the key?” Beezus asked.

“I don’t know,” answered Mother. “I don’t remember that we ever had a key.”

“But there’s a keyhole,” said Beezus. “There must be a key.”

“Ribsy, be quiet,” ordered Henry. “We’ll get you out.” But Ribsy only barked harder, and his barks echoed and re-echoed around the small room.

“No one gave us a key to the bathroom when we rented the house,” explained Mother. “And when Ramona first learned to walk we fastened the button down with Scotch tape so she couldn’t lock herself in.

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