In the pattern she established with Thornton the Worrier, Twitchell the Wishful, and others, Sharmat disabuses Lucretia the bear of a fearful case of hypochondria. Out bicycling with her baggage of thermometer, bandages, and the like, Lucretia panics when Hunkley Lion points out a wart on her nose. By the time she gets to the doctor's office (despite her fears of waiting-room germs), Lucretia has a list of complaints and potential ailments--to which she adds ""a future cough"" when the doctor coughs in her face. Though he pronounces her ""in fantastic shape,"" a bike spill on the way home sets her off again. This is when her friends declare her silly and unbearable, leave her to take care of her own scraped knee. . . and so bring her to her senses. Lucretia's foible is a recognizable one and Sharmat's dialogue is relatively snappy; but her quick-cure formula is as simplistic as ever, and by now it's acquired the air of an assembly-line product. That impression is reinforced by Stevens' unimaginative pencil drawings, which show thick Lucretia and friends in all their hairy fullness and human togs, but don't make them appealing.