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talking, swung the pack off his shoulder, and said, “We’re here!” Then he chuckled and said, “Keep hidden, Squig. Let’s give the old lady a surprise.”
    Squiggle peered out and saw a wooden door in a brick building. The building was on a busy street. Dr. Sponge took out a key, opened the door, and leaped inside. “Dearest!” he bellowed. “Hirsuita, Darling!” He hung the backpack up on a hook.
    â€œWhat is all the ruckus,” a voice said. “You never make so much noise, except when you bring home a surprise.”
    Squiggle opened the zipper a little bit more to get a better view, and this is what she saw. Jeremiah, standing and grinning, his beard sticking out about a foot in all directions from his chin. And facing him, a dark-haired woman about the same stocky height and build as him. She didn’t quite have a beard, but her face was very whiskery. She was wear ing lip stick, as if she had just been about to go out, and the bright moist red of her lips looked very odd in the middle of that thicket of whiskers. She was wearing a blue dress and enormous fuzzy slippers. The slippers were in the shape of raccoons and had little glass eyes that goggled up at Squiggle, almost as if they knew she was there.
    Dr. Sponge gave the woman a kiss. “But Darling,” he said, “I didn’t bring anything home. Can’t I be cheerful when I come in the door?”
    â€œCheerful!” she said, giving him a shove. “Usually you are a bear when you come home. Tell me what you brought. Is it something for the voyage?”
    â€œOh, I wouldn’t know that,” he said, grinning.
    Squiggle heard more footsteps and a little boy’s voice said, “Daddy, Daddy, what did you bring?”
    The boy came into view. He was as old as Squiggle. He was about nine and looked very odd standing between his parents, because they were so large around and he was so skinny. You could tell he was going to grow up tall and thin and handsome. But he was just like his parents in one respect—he had a beard. It wasn’t very thick yet, just a scattering of hairs popping out of his chin unevenly, some of them only half an inch long, and one of them dangling all the way down to the top button of his shirt. He was unmistakably a Sponge.
    â€œWhat makes you think,” Jeremiah said, frowning, “that I brought anything? You people are crazy!”
    â€œWhat’s in your backpack?” the little boy said.
    â€œA map!” Dr. Sponge said, doing a good job of sounding irritated. “Only a map! Go look for yourself!”
    The little boy reached up and yanked open the zipper. A bunch of books fell out on the floor, and Squiggle fell out on top of them.
    Everyone shouted at once.
    â€œA MONKEY!” the little boy shouted happily.
    â€œEasy there!” cried Dr. Sponge. “Don’t hurt her!”
    â€œOh, Jay, how could you bring home another pet!” Mrs. Sponge said.
    â€œAck! Help!” Squiggle shouted, but nobody heard her.
    The little boy danced around in the hallway in glee with his hands up in the air.
    â€œIt is NOT a PET,” Dr. Sponge said, stooping down and helping Squiggle onto his shoulder. “She is a person. She has come to stay with us for a few days. Squiggle, this is my wife, Hirsuita, and my son, Toboggan. You can call him Toby. Everybody, this is Squiggle.”
    â€œUm, how do you do?” said Squiggle.
    The room was just quiet enough at that moment that everyone could hear her. The little boy stopped dancing and stared. The woman scratched her whiskers and said, “It’s a talking monkey?”
    â€œI used to be a person,” Squiggle said, sounding very sad all of a sudden.
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    Everyone was quiet for a moment.
    Then, “Oh, you poor dear!” Mrs. Sponge said. “Jay, take her into the family room and give her something to eat! Make her comfortable. What were you