Free Rufus M. by Eleanor Estes

selling something or that we want her to join the Red Cross,
thought Jane. Joe didn't say anything. Nobody said anything. Jane was just about to say, "This is Joey," when to her relief Miss Myles said:
    "Why, Joey Moffat, come in! Come right in. And I supposed this is Jane. And where's my red automobile, young man?"
    Joe smiled but said nothing. They all went in and sat down on Miss Myles's wicker furniture.
    "So you came to take me for a ride in that red automobile of yours?" Miss Myles said again.
    Joey smiled and stared at the ceiling. But he didn't say

    anything. Then he looked at a porcelain cat that was supposed to keep the door from swinging and he kept looking at this cat for the rest of the evening. It was not easy to talk about the red automobile. And if he did talk about it, how could he jump from that to silver foxes? That's what Joe wondered, and it kept him from saying anything about red automobiles or silver foxes, either. Nobody said anything for a while. Everybody's wicker chairs creaked. Jane thought now was the time when she should put in a word. She was uncomfortable, too, though not as uncomfortable as Joe because, after all, Miss Myles was his particular friend and she scarcely knew Jane. She only knew about her. Joey sometimes mentioned her and the other Moffats in his cards to Miss Myles.
    "Yes," repeated Miss Myles. "When I saw you at the door, Joey, I thought, ah, now here's where I get a ride in a beautiful red automobile."
    Joe smiled on one side of his mouth. He shouldn't sit here grinning like that Cheshire cat. He knew that. He rehearsed in his mind. /
saw an ad. Just an ad about silver foxes...
Jane thought of something to say. She thought she could say Joe was going to save up for a red automobile. But she didn't say it because so far Joey hadn't said anything and he was the one should do the talking. At least he should talk first.
    Joe thought, well, now they had talked about the red automobile, at least Miss Myles had, and if he could think how to begin he'd discuss this plan he had of raising silver foxes. It didn't sound good to him to start with "I saw an ad." He was just going to plunge in when his chair creaked loud. Very loud. The chair creaking like this made him realize how he'd sound when he began to talk. There was silence now. Then he'd talk. How'd his voice sound? Like that creak? He couldn't be sure how his voice would turn out. Sometimes it came out loud. Sometimes it came out in a high squeak. How could he count on it sounding like any ordinary voice? He had forgotten about his voice when he came here. He brushed his hand over his hair. Some of it was rearing up like telegraph poles again.
    Jane thought the conversation was not going very well. In conversation one person was supposed to say something. Then another person. Then the first. Then another. No long silences in between times, especially when you pay a call. Silences are all right when you make a long visit, say for several days, because no one could keep up a conversation all that time. But in a short visit like this she and Joe and Miss Myles ought to talk and they weren't.
    Miss Myles said something now and then but neither Joey nor Jane answered, because they both were so busy thinking they should talk and embarrassed because they weren't.
    How long was everybody going to sit here like this? Jane wondered, squirming her toes around inside her shoes. By rights she shouldn't do the talking. Joey should, because this lady was his friend. But Jane finally realized that Joey had reached such a state of shyness he was not going to be able to say one thing. She felt desperate.
I'll have to talk,
she thought. And maybe, if she kept the conversation strictly on Joe, she would not be stealing his show.
    "Joey has the best memory of all of us," she ventured bravely.
    "I'm sure he has," agreed Miss Myles, "because he always remembers that he promised me a ride in a long red automobile."
    "He remembers all dates," said