Free Henry and Beezus by Beverly Cleary Page B

Beezus’s little sister while the bidding continued.
    â€œWhere can she be?” Beezus was frantic. “Maybe she’s kidnapped.”
    Jeepers, thought Henry. I hope she isn’t going to cry. He had enough troubles without Beezus crying all over the place. He knew Ramona couldn’t be far away, and he was sure no one would ever kidnap her. Especially not if they knew her. Now all he had to do was find her before the auction ended.
    â€œIf we went up in front, we could ask the auctioneer to ask about her,” suggested Henry. He didn’t mention that his chances of bidding would also be better.
    â€œHave you seen my little sister?” Beezus asked the people around her.
    Henry inquired if anyone had seen a little girl in a blue dress, but no one had noticed her.
    â€œWhat are we going to do, Henry?” asked Beezus, blinking her eyes to keep back the tears. “I can’t go home without her. I’ve got to find her. I’ve got to.”
    Then the auctioneer pounded his gavel and roared, “Quiet, everybody!” The crowd was almost silent. “Has someone lost a little girl?” He held Ramona up for everyone to see. Her face was streaked with tears and she clutched her slug in one hand.
    â€œOne dollar!” yelled Scooter.
    â€œQuiet!” shouted the auctioneer.

    â€œIt’s Ramona!” Beezus cried out. “It’s my little sister.”
    â€œWill you come up and get your sister?” asked the auctioneer. “Make way for the little lady to come for her sister.”
    Hey, thought Henry, here’s my chance. I’ll go with her and get up in front where the auctioneer can see me and then maybe he can hear me bid. The people in front moved aside to let Beezus through. Henry started after her.
    â€œWhere do you think you’re going?” the big boy in front of Henry demanded.
    â€œWith her,” said Henry.
    â€œYou’re not going to get ahead of me,” said another boy.
    By that time the path the crowd had made for Beezus closed up again. Henry couldn’t let his one chance at a bicycle get away from him. “Beezus,” he called desperately, “if you see a good bike, bid for me. Four dollars and four cents.”
    â€œOK,” Beezus answered through the crowd.
    The auction continued. In spite of other people’s toes, Henry jumped as high as he could each time a bicycle was held up. If Beezus could make the auctioneer hear, it might be his. Two bicycles went by. Henry grew more and more uneasy, waiting to hear a shout of “Four dollars and four cents!” Beezus must be in the very front row. Why didn’t she bid? What had gone wrong?
    Then the auctioneer’s voice rang out. “Sold for four dollars and four cents! Bicycle Number Thirty-two sold to the little lady who lost her sister.”
    Beezus had bid!
    Joyfully Henry sprang into the air to see his bike. He couldn’t see a thing, but that was all right. There was a bicycle waiting for him. A bike of his very own.
    After that Henry lost interest in the auction. He was busy wondering what his bicycle looked like. He hoped it was red and had a horn and a light. Gradually the crowd began to leave, and Henry and his dog were able to work their way up to the front where Beezus and Ramona were waiting.
    Beezus, who was holding a place in the line of people paying for bicycles, looked pleased and excited. “Henry, I got you a real good one with wheels and handlebars and everything. It’s in that pile. I had the man write your name on the tag.”
    Henry took his place in line, and was trying to guess which bicycle in the heap was his when Robert and Scooter joined him.
    â€œDid you find out about the ticket?” asked Robert.
    â€œSure, and I got a bike, too,” boasted Henry.
    â€œYeah?” Scooter plainly did not believe him.
    â€œYes. And I’m not going to jail or anything, either.” Then Henry explained