One night two weeks later dinner promised to be memorable, and not just because spaghetti and meatballs was by far the most popular meal at Camp Echo Woods. Mrs. Evans was joining the Polaris girls at their table for supper and conversation. One of the Straight As would be acting as the server, so no one—especially Mrs. Evans—would have to jump up to get seconds or water or milk or juice.

“Let’s make sure this goes smoothly,” said Peggy. “Has anyone been a waitress before?”

When nobody volunteered, Amelia Bedelia slowly raised her hand.

“Great!” said Peggy. “Where did you work?”

“In a diner,” said Amelia Bedelia.

“Perfect,” said Peggy. “You’ll be our server tonight.”

It was far from perfect. Amelia Bedelia had been fired from Pete’s Diner after less than an hour on the job, after a truck driver had ordered a piece of pie. He had been in a hurry and had asked her to step on it. So she had. Splat!

“Don’t worry,” said Peggy. “You can do it. Sometimes Mrs. Evans is hard to understand. If you get confused, just signal me. I’ll help you.”

The Polaris girls arrived in the dining hall ten minutes early, looking shipshape. They had showered, put on clean uniforms, and combed the tangles out of their hair. It wasn’t long before Mrs. Evans arrived, too.

“Thank you for inviting me to join you tonight,” said Mrs. Evans.

“Our pleasure,” said Peggy.

“You don’t look familiar,” said Mrs. Evans to Amelia Bedelia. “Have we met before?”

“Yes. I’m still Amelia Bedelia,” said Amelia Bedelia. “My mother went here a long time ago.”

“Now I remember,” said Mrs. Evans. “I didn’t recognize you all spiffed up. I knew your mother when she was knee-high to a grasshopper.”

Amelia Bedelia was stunned. “I don’t think she was ever that short,” she said as she filled the water glasses. Do grasshoppers even have knees? she wondered.

Amelia Bedelia served heaping helpings of spaghetti and meatballs. She inspected every plate before she put it on the table, hoping to spot any half-bad food and exchange it for some that was half good.

“This is our last year of camp at Echo Woods,” said Mrs. Evans. “How I wish my husband, Harold, was here.”

“I’ll save him a plate,” said Amelia Bedelia. “Is he coming soon?”

“Harold is my late husband,” said Mrs. Evans.

“How late is he going to be?” asked Amelia Bedelia. “Maybe the kitchen will keep his dinner warm.”

“Really late, Amelia Bedelia,” said Alice. She opened her eyes wide and held up her glass. “Juice, please.”

As Amelia Bedelia was filling Alice’s glass, Peggy whispered so that only Amelia Bedelia could hear. “Her husband expired.”

“Expired?” said Amelia Bedelia loudly. “Like milk?”

“Yes, I would,” said Amy, holding up her glass.

“Years ago, Harold bought Echo Lake and all the land around it,” said Mrs. Evans. “He wanted to share this beautiful spot with future generations, so we built Camp Echo Woods. My Harold was always ahead of his time.”

Amelia Bedelia went back to the kitchen confused. If Harold was ahead of his time, why was he so late now? She returned to the table with full pitchers of water and juice, and some good news.

“I asked the cook to save a plate for your late husband,” she said to Mrs. Evans.

“Pssst . . . Amelia Bedelia,” whispered Peggy. “Her husband is no longer with us. He has departed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I must have just missed him!” said Amelia Bedelia.

“I still miss my Harold,” said Mrs. Evans. “Even though I lost him more than twenty years ago.”

“Gosh,” said Amelia Bedelia. “If he’s been lost for that long, he may never get here.”

“Amelia Bedelia,” said Mrs. Evans. “Do you understand that my husband died?”

“Oh,” said Amelia Bedelia. “I’m sorry.” She went back to the kitchen to cancel his spaghetti dinner. When she returned, they were still talking about him.

“Did your husband linger long?” asked Peggy.

“No, thank goodness,” said Mrs. Evans. “Harold was a great outdoorsman. He didn’t want to be a vegetable.”

“Me neither,” said Amelia Bedelia. “I’d hate to be a carrot. How would you like to be buried up to your forehead in dirt?”

Mrs. Evans laughed loudly.

“Remember the rules,” said Peggy. “It’s not kind to call a sick person a vegetable.”

“But if you had to be a vegetable in a play or for Halloween,” said Mrs. Evans, “what vegetable would you hate to be?”

“Cauliflower!” said Amy. “It looks like a brain. Gross!”

“Brussels sprouts,” said Alisha. “Or cabbage. Yucko!”

“String beans,” said Alice. “Because everyone calls me that because I’m tall.”

It was Peggy’s turn. “Okra,” she said. “The stuff that runs out when you cut it open looks like someone sneezed.”

“Eeeeeeewww!” sang the Straight As, in a chorus.

“Your turn, Mrs. Evans,” said Peggy.

Mrs. Evans squinted her eyes and said, “Kohlrabi.”

“Coalwhatee?” said Amy. “Is that a real vegetable?”

“Kohlrabi looks like a small mutant cabbage from Mars,” said Mrs. Evans. “And it tastes worse.”

Campers at other tables were turning around to see what all the laughing was about. Amelia Bedelia noticed that when Mrs. Evans was having fun, her wrinkles weren’t so noticeable. She seemed younger when she was laughing, not like a fossil at all. The only problem was that now she was laughing so hard she started coughing.

“Would you like something to drink?” asked Amelia Bedelia.

“Yes, thank you,” said Mrs. Evans, raising her glass. “Would you give me a splash of juice?”

So that was exactly what Amelia Bedelia did.