The Mouse and the Motorcycle - Beverly Cleary [28]
“That’s all right,” answered Ralph modestly.
“Where did you find it?” Keith was curious to know.
“Under a dresser down on the first floor.”
“The first floor!” Keith could not believe it. “How did you manage to get it up here?”
Once more Ralph told the story of his night’s adventure, skipping the part about the drinking glass, but making it sound as if he had narrowly escaped the horny talons of the owl as he traveled down the vine.
“Golly!” Keith was amazed at Ralph’s story. “You know what? You’re a pretty smart mouse. And a brave one, too.”
“It was nothing,” said Ralph in an offhand manner.
“Nothing! It was plenty. You risked your life!”
The boy’s admiration and gratitude made Ralph feel even prouder of what he had done. “I parked your ambulance out in the hall,” he said, wanting Keith to know how responsible he was. “Your folks will probably see it and bring it in when they come back.”
“That reminds me. You didn’t happen to see my motorcycle anyplace, did you?” Keith’s question was unexpected.
“Well, no, I didn’t.” Ralph suddenly felt less proud of himself. “But I didn’t have much time to look.”
“Yeah, I know.” Keith was sympathetic. “I just wondered….”
A knock at the door sent Ralph scurrying to the knothole.
“Come in,” called Keith.
Matt entered with a tray. “Here you are and here is your ambulance. I found it out in the hall,” he said as he set the tray across Keith’s knees. “Sorry to see you’re under the weather.”
“Thank you. I’ll be all right.” Keith handed Matt a coin his father had left for a tip. “And thanks for bringing in my ambulance.”
Matt pocketed the coin. “Thank you,” he said, “and, by the way, this doesn’t happen to be yours, does it?” He pulled the little motorcycle out of his pocket.
Ralph was so excited he almost fell out of the knothole.
“Hey!” Keith sat up straight, rocking the orange juice on his tray. “It sure is. Where did you find it?”
“In a hamper of linen that had been chewed by mice. Or by a mouse. It fell out when the housekeeper was showing us the damage that had been done. I picked it up before anyone noticed it.”
“Gee, thanks. Thanks a lot.” Keith accepted the motorcycle and set it on his tray. “It’s my favorite. I didn’t like losing it.”
“I wonder how it got into that hamper of linen?” mused Matt.
Keith grinned but said nothing.
Old Matt rubbed his chin and stared at the ceiling. “I don’t suppose a certain irresponsible mouse happened to ride it into a pile of sheets and pillowcases and get tangled up and dumped into the hamper.”
Keith tried not to laugh. “I don’t know any irresponsible mice,” he said. “Only one responsible mouse. Say, how did you guess?”
“There isn’t much around this hotel that escapes my attention,” said Matt. “I saw that mouse out in the hall with the little motorcycle. I imagine he’s a regular speed demon.”
Ralph could no longer stay out of the conversation. “I’m fast but I’m careful. I haven’t had an accident yet,” he boasted, and added hastily, recalling his fall into the wastebasket, “at least not since I learned to ride the motorcycle.”
“If there is anything I can’t stand, it’s a cheeky mouse,” remarked Matt good-naturedly. “What do you call getting tangled up in a lot of linen?”
“What I mean is, I didn’t crack up in the motorcycle,” said Ralph with dignity.
“He’s not cheeky,” defended Keith. “He’s brave. You—you aren’t going to tell the management about him, are you?”
“What’s the use?” said Matt. “If they get rid of these mice more will move in. Anyway, he’s a cute little fellow. It cheers me up just to think of him tearing around on a little motorcycle.”
If only I could, thought Ralph.
There followed an unusually pleasant day for the mice. Keith stuffed the bacon and toast and jelly through the knothole. The mice feasted on bacon and jelly before the ants could get at them and stored the toast against the rapidly approaching time when Keith must leave the hotel. They slept all morning while Keith alternately napped and played with his cars. For lunch they enjoyed peanut butter