Free Ralph S. Mouse by Beverly Cleary Page B

she’s our teacher.” The two boys rushed over to Matt to see what the paper said about Miss K. Ralph climbed out of his car. He found that bits of his old nest still remained under the clock. With a shred of Kleenex, he began with loving care to polish away the boys’ fingerprints. As he polished, he listened while Matt read aloud from the Voice .

    â€œâ€˜Retraction,’ it says here above this picture,” said Matt.
    â€œWhat’s retraction ?” asked Brad.
    â€œIt means they take back something they said,” explained Matt.
    â€œThey should,” said Brad.
    â€œHey, look,” said Ryan. “There’s the picture of our class. What else does it say?”
    Matt read, “‘The editors of the Cucaracha Voice regret a misleading story published in Saturday’s edition concerning Miss Heidi Kuckenbacker’s class at Irwin J. Sneed Elementary School.’”
    Ralph stopped polishing. Maybe the paper would say something about him.
    Matt continued. “‘After thorough investigation, Superintendent Clyde R. Crossman has cleared Sneed of charges of mouse infestation. Miss Kuckenbacker’s pupils have informed the editor that the mouse exhibited in her classroom was not captured as reported but was instead a pet of Ryan Bramble, a member of the class.’”
    Ralph was insulted. He was no one’s pet, not Ryan’s, not anyone’s.
    â€œHey, Ryan, you got your name in the paper!” Brad was excited for his friend.
    â€œWait, there’s more,” said Matt. “‘Miss Kuckenbacker reports that she and her class learned much from having a mouse in the classroom.’”
    How about that! thought Ralph. I guess I taught them a thing or two.
    Matt read on. “‘The editors regret any embarrassment caused Room 5 by the misleading article about their activities.’”
    â€œWell, that’s better,” said Brad.
    â€œSounds as if maybe that editor is having a little fun,” remarked Matt.
    â€œNo, he isn’t.” Ryan was serious.
    â€œWe really did write to the paper,” said Brad, “and the superintendent really did investigate mice at our school, sort of.”
    â€œI guess we took care of that editor,” said Ryan. “Come on, Brad, let’s go see if the cook will give us something to eat.”
    Ralph watched the boys leave before he carefully polished every millimeter of his beautiful new car. Then he pushed his nest together for a nap while waiting for night to come. His day had been exciting, exhausting, and satisfying. Because of him, two boys had become friends. Ralph felt that he had done a good deed in a troubled world.
    Ralph awoke much later when the clock began to grind and groan and slowly, as if in pain, strike eleven, the safe hour for mice to appear. Ralph was enjoying a good stretch when he saw five of his relatives peering in at him.
    â€œHe’s back!” said one.
    â€œAnd he’s got a car,” said another.
    â€œA sports car,” said a third.
    Instantly there was clamor and confusion. “Give me a ride!” “Me first!” “Stop shoving!” “I should be first because I’m oldest.” “Get off my foot.”
    Instead of getting excited and angry, Ralph stood calmly beside his car and looked at his relatives without speaking. Gradually the mice grew quiet.
    â€œThat’s better,” said Ralph. “I can’t hear anyone if you all speak at once.” The mice were silent, listening, the way Room 5 had grown quiet and listened to Miss K.
    â€œLook, class—I mean, fellows,” said Ralph, “if you get in line, you can take turns. That way you can each have a ride.”
    â€œGood idea,” murmured the mice, who had never before thought of such a thing.
    Ralph was pleased with himself for putting his education to use. He climbed into his car and drove it out from under the clock.