Ramona Quimby, Age 8

He was dressed as if everything he wore had come from different stores or from a rummage sale, except that the crease in his trousers was sharp and his shoes were shined.

Ramona, I hear the mission bells above, Ramona, they’re ringing out our song of love.” Ramona stared at her book as she thought mean, dark thoughts about Uncle Hobart.

Never again would he stand all day at a cash register, ringing up groceries for a long line of people who were always in a hurry. Ramona