We ate our dinner. Well, Dad ate his dinner. I tried to eat mine, but all I could get down were three mouthfuls of salad.

"Mary Anne," said my father, looking at my full plate, "what time is it?" "Seven-thirty?" I answered. (Why was he asking? He was wearing his watch.) "And when was the last time you saw Tigger?" "Just before five-thirty." "So he's only been missing for two hours," Dad pointed out. "He could be taking a nap somewhere, for all we know." "He did have a pretty exciting afternoon," I said slowly. "Lots of visitors. And he does sleep soundly." "I'll say," said Dad. "He could sleep through a tornado." I felt cheered up. I felt so cheered up that I called Dawn and said, "You'll never guess what. Tigger is off taking a nap, and he's hidden himself so well that Dad and I can't find him!" Dawn giggled. She likes Tigger stories. Then she said, "Okay, my turn. You'll never guess what. Our parents are going out again." "They are? Dad didn't say anything." "Well, it's no big deal. They're just going to a parents meeting at school together. But that's something, isn't it?" "Sure," I replied. "That's something." Dawn and I talked for the exact ten minutes that I'm allowed. Then we hung up. Then she called back. We talked for ten more minutes. That's one way of getting around Dad's telephone rule without actually breaking it.

After the second call, we hung up for good, though. I didn't want to press my luck. I watched some TV. I read two chapters in this really great book called A Swiftly Tilting Planet, by Madeleine L'Engle. I checked over my list of weekend homework assignments. And then I looked at my watch. Ten o'clock! Not only was it almost time to go to bed, but Tigger had been missing for four and a half hours.