Mrs. Read was performing her accounting duties on the computer when she heard the front door fly open. The sounds of Arthur and D.W. dropping their lunchboxes on the table and talking excitedly serenaded her ears. Leaving Kate with her Magic Toolbox toys, she ambled through the living room to greet them.

Along the way she spotted something that was out of order. Grandpa Dave was seated on the couch watching a TV documentary, and Pal was curled up peacefully in his lap. Bending over, Mrs. Read swatted the dog's hind quarters, causing him to bound onto the floor. "No dogs allowed on the couch," she reminded Grandpa Dave.

When she arrived in the kitchen, D.W. showed her a sheet of paper with letters and lines printed on it. "Look, Mom," the girl trumpeted. "My very first homework."

"That's wonderful, dear," said Mrs. Read. "You can finish it after I take you to get your haircut."

Terror gripped D.W.'s heart. "I don't want to get a haircut!" she protested.

"You're getting a haircut." Mrs. Read ran her fingers over D.W.'s straggly hair, which reached down to her shoulder blades. "If your hair gets any longer it'll turn into a jungle, with lions, and tigers, and pythons."

"I don't want a haircut!" D.W. insisted vehemently. In the living room, Grandpa Dave slowly leaned over, grabbed the eager Pal, and lifted the pooch onto his lap.

"It doesn't hurt to get your hair cut," Mrs. Read reminded her daughter. "Remember the last time you got your hair cut?"

"No," said D.W.

"That's because you've got Alzheimer's disease," Arthur ribbed her.

"Quiet, Arthur," scolded his mother. "You shouldn't joke about that."

"I don't want to get a haircut ever again," D.W. groused. "I don't care if my hair grows all the way to my toes and birds build nests in it."

"You'll get ice cream," her mother offered.

D.W. grinned. "Okay."

Mrs. Read headed through the living room again, stopping to scoot Pal out of Grandpa Dave's lap and remind the old man once again, "No dogs on the couch." A moment later she returned, leading Kate by the hand.

"Arthur, I'm taking the girls to the barbershop and the ice cream shop," she informed her son. "I need you to take care of Grandpa Dave while we're gone. Make sure Pal stays off the couch, and don't leave the house unattended."

"Okay, Mom," said Arthur dutifully but reluctantly.

As Mrs. Read led D.W. and Kate out of the house, Arthur overheard D.W. saying, "I wish my hair grew faster, so I could get a haircut and ice cream every day."

Shuffling into the living room, Arthur wondered why his mother had never offered him ice cream in exchange for getting his hair cut. Was it due to the fact that he hardly had any hair?

Grandpa Dave was still there, watching what appeared to be a program about the wildlife of the Arctic tundra. Pal had learned his lesson and was curled up by the foot of the couch. Arthur had to squeeze around the old man's walker, which took up quite a bit of floor space.

"Hello there, D.W.," said Grandpa Dave as Arthur occupied the space next to him.

"I'm Arthur," the boy pointed out. "D.W. is a girl. That's how you know."

On the TV screen, several caribou sped past the camera. Arthur searched around for the remote and found it on the lampstand. "What are you watching?" he asked his grandfather.

"I don't know," was Grandpa Dave's semi-oblivious reply.

Not bothering to ask permission, Arthur flipped through the channels until the vibrantly colored image of Bionic Bunny appeared.

Grandpa Dave nodded and smiled. "Titanic Bunny," he mused.

"No," Arthur corrected him. "It's Bionic Bunny."

"When I was a child, he was called Titanic Bunny," the old man recounted. "He could rip tanks apart with his bare hands. He caused the Nazis so much trouble, they created their own super soldier to fight him. He was called Eisenhase. That means Iron Rabbit."

"I've seen some of those old comic books," Arthur recalled. "Why did Titanic Bunny have to fight the Germans? I mean, we won the war, right?"

"Those old books were published before the end of the war," Grandpa Dave explained. "They were for morale building. Titanic Bunny symbolized truth, and justice, and freedom--the things Hitler wanted to destroy, but couldn't."

"Did you fight in the war?" Arthur asked him.

"I was too young," the old man replied, shaking his head. "I was your age during the war. My father fought the Germans in France."

A knock at the door was heard. Pal bolted from his spot on the floor and raced Arthur, easily winning. The visitors were Buster and Alan, both of whom were wearing bicycle helmets.

"Hey, Arthur, can you come out and go biking with us?" asked Buster.

"No, I can't," said Arthur ruefully. "I have to take care of my grandpa."

"Have fun at it," said Alan. The two boys turned and hopped onto their bikes, riding away into the sunset.

Arthur's heart sank as he closed the door. In his enfeebled, dependent state, Grandpa Dave seemed like a second baby in the house, one too heavy and slow to be taken anywhere. Would his presence leave Arthur with less and less time for his friends?

----

Beat appeared to be growing at a rate of about half an inch per week, and her clothes were becoming increasingly confining. To remedy the problem, her mother whisked her to the mall for a clothes shopping trip. Ever willing to impart of her fashion wisdom to those in need, Muffy came along as well.

They strolled past one clothing store after another, searching for premium bargains. Muffy had always been a short girl, but Beat made her feel even shorter, towering alongside her with a height advantage of almost five inches (not counting ears). She was tempted to wander into one of the footwear stores and buy a pair of high-heeled shoes.

"I saw you talking to Molly today," she said to Beat. "Isn't that crazy? I never thought I'd see her in a dress."

"It's the only dress she has," Beat responded. "I invited her to come shopping with me, but she said she can't afford anything."

"So she'll probably wear that dress until it's full of holes," Muffy predicted.

"Look, Mum," said Beat, gesturing toward a display in a bookstore window. "It's another Henry Skreever knockoff."

Mrs. Simon stopped to briefly examine the book, which was entitled, CHARLIE CLONE AND THE ORDER OF THE SPHINX. As she scowled with displeasure, a young horse woman with a clerk's nametag approached her. "It may look like a copy of Henry Skreever," she commented, "but there are some very important differences. For one thing, Charlie Clone is actually a girl who disguises herself as a boy so she can go to a magic school for boys. Also they play a game called cribbitch, where they fly around on magic carpets."

"Hardly original," Mrs. Simon snorted. "I'll take one."

"Wait a minute," said the clerk, her face lighting up. "I know who you are."

"You should," replied Mrs. Simon, smiling pleasantly. "I've done so many book signings here."

Muffy was distracted from the exchange between the two women when her cell phone rang. Answering it, she heard the welcome voice of Angela Ratburn.

"I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings yesterday," said Angela earnestly. "I really do care about you. I wish I could have a little girl of my own just like you. But things are so desperate now, I find myself having to part with my own flesh and blood. Please try to understand, Muffy."

"It's so sad," Muffy lamented. "I wish I could help. I wish someone could help. It's not right that you should have to give up your baby."

"I also wanted to thank you," Angela continued.

"For what?"

"For referring a very nice family to me. I just came back from showing them the baby. The father's a little rough around the edges, but he can't help it because of what he suffers from. The mother can't have more children of her own. And the boy is such a darling."

"Hold on a minute, Angela," said Muffy with confusion in her voice. "Who are you talking about? Who are these people?"

"The Oberlins," Angela answered. "Boyd and Cathy, and their little boy, Charles Vincent."

Startled, Muffy nearly dropped her phone.

"Muffy? Hello?"

"I...I don't get it," the monkey girl stammered. "I gave C.V.'s parents your number because I thought they'd help you to keep the baby, by giving you a job or something. But now you're telling me...they want toadopt Graham?"

"Yes, Muffy. And they seem like wonderful people."

Beat and her mother watched impatiently and curiously as Muffy's face turned red with outrage.

"How could they lie to me like that?" she bellowed into the phone. "They pumped me up with false hopes, but what they really wanted was to take Graham away from you! Don't let them take him, Angela. C.V. is a total nutcase. He thinks he has super powers. I'm seriously afraid he'll jump off a building and try to fly, and kill himself. With an older brother like him, Graham will be warped for life!"

There was a pause on the line. "I don't think he's as bad as you say," came Angela's voice. "He just has an active imagination."

"I won't let you do it," said Muffy urgently. "If you have to give Graham up, there are better families out there."

"The decision is mine to make, Muffy." Angela's voice sounded weary. "I'll talk to you later."

----

For all intents and purposes, Molly's head had become a math book with long ears. She studied and pondered obsessively, not budging from her spot on the couch, struggling to grasp the abstract concepts the tome presented to her.

When a knock came at the door, she wasn't the one to answer it.

"Hi, Mr. McDonald," said Binky to the neatly dressed, clean-shaven rabbit man who stood before him. "Can I talk to Molly?"

"Make it quick," replied the man, stepping to one side.

Binky found his friend and one-time fellow bully in the living room. "Hi, Binky," she greeted him, raising one corner of her mouth. She slowly rested the textbook on her lap while Binky spoke.

"I thought you might like to, uh, maybe go to Muffin Man with me and get some pastries," the boy suggested nervously.

"That sounds like fun," was Molly's reply. "But my dad won't let me. After he saw my grade, he sentenced me to study math for the rest of the evening."

"Man, that's rough," said Binky, seating himself in an easy chair across from the girl.

Mr.McDonald scowled at him, apparently fearing that he intended to stay a while. "My daughter is busy right now," he made clear.

Seeing he had worn out his short welcome, Binky rose and waved wordlessly at Molly. "Some other time, maybe," said the rabbit girl eagerly.

As her friend departed from the house, Molly felt a twinge of disappointment. "What a doofus," she remarked. "We've known each other for years, but he never thought to ask me out until he saw me in a dress."

"He seems like a good boy," said her father, folding his arms. "I think you should give him a chance. Now, back to your schoolwork."