Uncle Wiggily in Connecticut

Part 8
Grace stood for a moment, then said, "Yes, Ma'am," and went out to the kitchen.
Eloise left the living room and climbed the stairs, which were lighted very faintly by
the overglow from the dining room. One of Ramona's galoshes was lying on the landing.
Eloise picked it up and threw it, with as much force as possible, over the side of the
banister; it struck the foyer floor with a violent thump.
She snapped on the light in Ramona's room and held on to the switch, as if for
support. She stood still for a moment looking at Ramona. Then she let go of the light
switch and went quickly over to the bed. "Ramona. Wake up. Wake up."
Ramona was sleeping far over on one side of the bed, her right buttock off the edge.
Her glasses were on a little Donald Duck night table, folded neatly and laid stems down.
"Ramona!"

The child awoke with a sharp intake of breath. Her eyes opened wide, but she
narrowed them almost at once. "Mommy?"
"I thought you told me Jimmy Jimmereeno was run over and killed."
"What?"
"You heard me," Eloise said. "Why are you sleeping way over here?"
"Because," said Ramona.
"Because why? Ramona, I don't feel like--"
"Because I don't want to hurt Mickey."
"Who?"
"Mickey," said Ramona, rubbing her nose. "Mickey Mickeranno."
Eloise raised her voice to a shriek. "You get in the center of that bed. Go on."
Ramona, extremely frightened, just looked up at Eloise.
"All right." Eloise grabbed Ramona's ankles and half lifted and half pulled her over to
the middle of the bed. Ramona neither struggled nor cried; she let herself be moved
without actually submitting to it.
"Now go to sleep," Eloise said, breathing heavily. "Close your eyes.... You heard me,
close them."

Ramona closed her eyes.
Eloise went over to the light switch and flicked it off. But she stood for a long time in
the doorway. Then, suddenly, she rushed, in the dark, over to the night table, banging
her knee against the foot of the bed, but too full of purpose to feel pain.She picked up
Ramona's glasses and, holding them in both hands, pressed them against her cheek.
Tears rolled down her face, wetting the lenses. "Poor Uncle Wiggily," she said over and
over again. Finally, she put the glasses back on the night table, lenses down.
She stooped over, losing her balance, and began to tuck in the blankets of Ramona's
bed. Ramona was awake. She was crying and had been crying. Eloise kissed her wetly
on the mouth and wiped the hair out of her eyes and then left the room.
She went downstairs, staggering now very badly, and wakened Mary Jane.
"Wuzzat? Who? Huh?" said Mary Jane, sitting bolt upright on the couch.
"Mary Jane. Listen. Please," Eloise said, sobbing. "You remember our freshman year,
and I had that brawn-and-yellow dress I bought in Boise, and Miriam Ball told me
nobody wore those kind of dresses in New York, and I cried all night?" Eloise shook
Mary Jane's arm. "I was a nice girl," she pleaded, "wasn't I?"