Text Leveling System

Ralph S. Mouse

RDQ:	1422	Max Word/Sent	57	Total Words	2597		Diff Words	848
Lex	810	Ave Word/.Sent	11	Hi Freq occurs	1728	66.5%	Hi freq	339	40%
AR	4.2	Long Sentences	17	Low Freq occurs	167	6.4%	Low freq	123	14.5%

A Dark and Snowy Night
Night winds moaning around corners and 
whistling through cracks dashed snow 
against the windows of the Mountain View Inn. 
Inside a fire crackled in the stone fireplace. The 
grandfather clock as old and tired as the inn 
itself marked the passing of time with a slow tick
tock. . . that seemed to say "Wait. . . ing 
wait . . . ing."
Everyone in the lobby was waiting-the desk 
clerk the handyman old Matt who also carried]]
guests' luggage to their rooms Ryan Bramble the 
son of the hotel's new housekeeper and Ralph 
the mouse who lived under the grandfather clock.
The desk clerk dozed waiting for guests who 
did not arrive. Matt leaned against the wall to 
watch television while he waited for the desk 
clerk to close up for the night. Ryan sitting on 
the floor to watch television waited for his]] 
mother to tell him to go to bed because he had 
to go to school the next day. Ralph crouched 
beside Ryan waited for the adults to leave so he 
could bring out his mouse-sized motorcycle. 
Unfortunately Ralph's little brothers sisters and 
cousins hiding in the woodpile and behind the 
curtains were also waiting.
On the television set a sports car crashed into 
a truck shot off a cliff and burst into flames.
"Wow!" Without taking his eyes from the 
screen Ryan said "There's a boy at school 
named Brad Kirby who would really like this 
movie. He has a BMX bicycle for motocross 
racing and his father sometimes drives him to 
school in a tow truck." A police car followed the 
sports car over the cliff before Ryan added "Brad 
isn't very friendly to me. He's sort of a loner."
Ralph was more interested in television than in 
Ryan's problems. "If I had a sports car like that" 
he said "I wouldn't let it run off a cliff."
Ralph was an unusual mouse. He had listened]] 
to so many children and watched so much television 
that he had learned to talk. Not everyone 
could understand him. Those who could were 
lonely children who shared Ralph's interest in 
fast cars and motorcycles and who took the 
trouble to listen. Other children if they happened to 
glimpse Ralph said "I saw a mouse that 
squeaked funny."
Matt was the only adult who understood 
Ralph. "Yes sir that mouse is a mouse in a 
million" he often told himself.
Ralph knew there were not really a million 
mice in the inn although he had to admit that 
in wintertime the mouseholes were crowded 
because his rough outdoor relatives moved inside to 
keep warm. Ralph's mother said they were a 
rowdy bunch that set a bad example for the more 
civilized indoor mice.
While Ralph and Ryan were enjoying a 
commercial for a truck that could zigzag without 
overturning Matt strolled into a room called the]]
Jumping Frog Lounge and returned with a handful 
of popcorn. He dropped one kernel in front of 
Ralph.
"Thanks" said Ralph who enjoyed nibbling 
popcorn while watching television.
As the commercial ended Mrs. Bramkle 
entered the lobby. "Come on my boy" she said to 
Ryan. "It's past your bedtime. You know the 
manager doesn't like you hanging around the 
lobby."
"Aw Mom just let me watch the end of the 
program" pleaded Ryan. "I'll leave if any guests 
arrive."
At that moment the rattle and crunch of a car 
with chains on its tires was heard. Ryan rose and 
walked backward out of the lobby so he wouldn't 
miss the high-speed siren-screaming chase on the 
television screen. As he left he gave Ralph a little 
wave with his fingertips a wave no one else would 
notice. Ralph wished Ryan could stay up all night 
like a mouse.]] 
As the car stopped in front of the hotel and the 
desk clerk roused himself Ralph scurried under 
the grandfather clock to the nest he had made 
from chewed-up Kleenex a lost ski-lift ticket and 
a few bits of carpet fringe he had nipped off when 
no one was looking. Beside his nest rested his two 
precious possessions: a
little red motorcycle 
and a crash helmet 
made from half a
ping-pong ball
lined with thistledown 
gifts of a
boy who had once 
stayed in the hotel.
Above Ralph the clock began to grind and 
groan and strike bong. . . bong as if it had to 
summon strength for each stroke. Ralph dreaded 
the sound even though it was the reason he lived 
under the clock. The noise terrified his little 
relatives who thought the clock was out to get them.]]
As long as they feared the clock Ralph's motorcycle 
was safe.
The car door slammed. Feet stomped on the 
porch. When Matt opened the door to let two 
people blow into the lobby a blast of freezing air 
sent Ralph's nest swirling around in bits. Never 
mind thought Ralph peeking out at two pair of 
boots the kind known as waffle stompers which 
had thick treads that held snow.
"Do you have a room for the night?" the owner 
of the larger boots asked the desk clerk.
"H-mm let's see" murmured the clerk who 
always behaved as if the hotel might be full even 
though he knew it was not.
Stop pretending thought Ralph who was tired of waiting.
"Well. . . ." The desk clerk ended the 
suspense. "I can let you have room 207. Just fill out 
this card please." 
Ralph's keen ears heard the scratch of a pen 
and the rattle of a key. He winced when the clerk]] 
banged the bell on the desk for Matt even though Matt was standing right there waiting to carry the guests' bags.
"Never mind" said one of the guests to Matt. "We can find our room." The pair picked up their luggage and stepped into the elevator leaving behind puddles of melted snow.
"Cheapskates" muttered Matt. Guests at this hotel often insisted on carrying luggage to avoid tipping him.
After the elevator door closed Ralph worried that the puddles might dry before he had the lobby to himself. Time dragged on. The man in the red vest who worked in the Jumping Frog Lounge came out yawned and remarked that he might as well close for the night. The television station went off the air. The desk clerk locked the front door and left. If any more guests arrived they would have to ring the night bell. Matt began to turn out the lights.
At last! Ralph threw his leg over his motorcycle ]]
adjusted the rubber band that held his crash helmet in place and grasped his tail so
that it would not become tangled in his spokes. Then because as everyone knows a toy motorcycle moves when someone makes a noise like a motorcycle Ralph took a deep
breath went p-b-b-b b-b-b
and shot out from under]] 
the clock. Gradually he picked up speed and zoomed through a puddle. Wings of water fanned out from his wheels. It was a thrilling experience.
All of Ralph's little brothers sisters and cousins hoping Matt would not notice them in the dim light popped out from their hiding places to watch. Of course Ralph had to show off. He took deeper breaths and rode faster making puddles splash higher and leaving tiny tire tracks on the dry linoleum. Matt who was banking the fire for the night laid down the poker to enjoy the sight.
Unfortunately the little relatives were not satisfied. Not now. Once Ralph's indoor relatives had been happy to have Ralph push them up and down the halls on his motorcycle but this treat was not enough for his rowdy outdoor relatives. They wanted to ride the motorcycle by themselves so now all the mice wanted to ride. They came running and jumping across the threadbare carpet to the linoleum squealing "I want a]]
ride!" "Gimme a turn!" "Come on Ralph get off and let us use it!"
Ralph started to whiz around in a figure eight when his tires slipped and the motorcycle tipped. He lost control and landed in icy dirty water.
The daring outdoor mice waded out to grab the motorcycle but Ralph was quick. Dripping and shivering he sprang back on the seat and rode off p-b-b-b p-b-b-b avoiding clutching paws. If only he could make his relatives behave. "Go away. You're too little" said Ralph through chattering teeth as he swerved to miss tiny toes. "You would forget to hang on to your tails and you'd get them tangled in my spokes." He tried to wipe his nose with his wet paw and wished mouse children had to go to bed at night like human children.
"We would not!" The rougher mice grabbed the motorcycle and brought Ralph to a halt. "And you're not so big yourself. .You fell down."
All the mice began to complain. "You let us]]
ride or we'll tell your mother on you. She said you were supposed to give us a turn." Cousins closest to Ralph in age said it wasn't fair for Ralph to have a motorcycle. Nobody had ever given them motorcycles and they were just as good as Ralph. Some of the meaner mice told him their mothers said Ralph was spoiled and selfish and would probably turn out to be no good when he grew up.
Ralph was hurt. "I am not spoiled and I am not selfish" he insisted as he tried to drag his motorcycle away from all those clutching paws. In his heart he did not feel selfish. He only wanted something that was his alone. A mouse so rarely had something he could call his own.
"You're greedy" said a cheeky outdoor mouse. Then all the mice down to the littlest one who was tangled in the fringe of the carpet began to chant "Ralph is greedy Ralph is greedy!"
Ralph finally lost his temper and squeaked at the top of his voice "Beat it you rotten little rodents!"]]
"Try and make us." The outdoor mice were defiant but Ralph could tell they were not as brave as they pretended.
Shocked and hurt by such strong language the little indoor mice fell silent. They looked at Ralph with such sad eyes that Ralph was ashamed. "You said bad words" said one his voice filled with reproach.
"I'm going to tell on you" said another. "My mother wouldn't like you to call me-those words."
Ralph felt terrible. "Aw come on" he said. "It's just that my motorcycle is wearing out. The tires are thin and if they wear out where am I going to get another pair?"
The little mice would not accept this excuse. "We've never had a motorcycle at all" one of them said.
"I know but-" began Ralph not knowing how to finish. It was not his fault his young relatives did not have motorcycles. Still maybe he ]]
had used language too strong for little ears. He was only trying to make his pack of pushing shoving grabbing relatives behave.
Matt must have understood Ralph's feelings for he came to his rescue. "Shoo!" he said loud
enough to frighten little mice but not loud enough to terrify them. The word sent them scrabbling back to their hiding places.
"Thanks" said Ralph.
"Think nothing of it." Matt gave the fire one last poke before he retired for the night. He left]]
the rapidly drying puddles for Ralph who took another turn through them. Although water still fanned out from his wheels somehow the fun had gone out of riding for that night.
Wearily Ralph pushed his motorcycle back to the cave under the clock where it was safe. Even though he was wet and numb with cold he lovingly wiped mud and paw prints from his chrome spokes with bits of shredded Kleenex. When he began to wipe his exhaust pipes he discovered they wiggled loosened by all
those tugging paws. The rear wheel shock absorber was loose too.]]
Ralph's Decision
after his strenuous night of riding through puddles, fending off his relatives, trying to repair his motorcycle, and rebuilding his nest, Ralph napped soundly. He was awakened by the angry voice of Mr. Minch, the hotel manager, speaking to Mrs. Bramble, Ryan's mother.

"Look at that floor," Mr. Minch was saying. "Disgraceful!"
"It certainly needs a good cleaning," agreed Mrs. Bramble.
"Where's Matt?" demanded Mr. Minch. "Keeping this lobby clean is his responsibility." Worried because his friend was in trouble, Ralph peeped out from under the clock and saw Matt, unaware of the manager's displeasure, enter the lobby. "Morning, Mrs. Bramble, Mr. Minch," Matt said. "It's sure pretty outside with the sun shining on the snow and the sky so blue." Mr. Minch ignored this greeting. "Matt," he said, and his voice was stern, "take a good look at this floor. Dried mud on the linoleum. Mouse droppings all over the place. It's a disgrace. And the whole lobby smells-well, mousey."
That's funny, thought Ralph. I can't smell a thing.
Matt looked at the floor. "Well, I'll be jiggered," he said. "How do you suppose that happened? It looked clean enough last night."
Liar, thought Ralph with affection. He knew Matt would never say a bad word against mice. "Never mind how it happened," said Mr.
Minch. "Exactly what do you plan to do about it?"
"Now take it easy, Mr. Minch," said Matt. "I'll have this place cleaned up in no time." "See that you do," said Mr. Minch. "This may not be a first-class hotel, but there is no excuse for a dirty lobby. I realize that late arrivals often leave
muddy floors, but mouse droppings. If I continue to find signs of mice, I shall have to let you go.
That's not fair, thought Ralph, who did not want to lose his loyal friend. Matt had been part of the hotel as long as he could remember, much
longer than either Mr. Minch or Ryan's mother. Most employees did not stay long at the Mountain View Inn.
"Yes, sir." The cheer had gone out of Matt's voice.
Ralph, who came from a long line of intelligent mice, knew that most of his relatives had learned to avoid traps and poisons. He was not so sure
about his littlest relatives, however. What was left after traps and poisons? Cats. Ralph shuddered at the thought of bloodthirsty cats stalking his innocent little brothers, sisters, and cousins. The littlest one, who always became entangled in the carpet fringe, would be the first to go.
A skier who was looking at headlines on the
newspapers on the rack near the door overheard the conversation between Matt and Mr. Minch. "'['here's a new electronic mouser on the market," he volunteered. "It makes a noise only mice can hear and drives them out of the building in a hurry."
"I'll look into it. Something has to be done around here," said Mr. Minch, as he returned to his office
Ralph shuddered at the thought of an electronic mouser sending his family screaming into the snow to freeze to death.
Mrs. Bramble wanted to say something pleasant to Matt after the unhappy incident. "One good thing about the ski crowd," she remarked, "they may track in snow, but they don't bother to drip dry a lot of clothes and clutter up the bathrooms." With that cheerful remark, she went upstairs to count sheets and towels in the linen room.
"More like a fourth-rate hotel, if you ask me,"

Subjective Criteria

Illustrations: Little support

Dialog: Multiple speakers

Dialog: Broken dialogue

Dialog: Unlabeled Speaker

Vocabulary: Some difficult words

Language: Many descriptive words

Sentences: Some Long/Complex

Text structure: Story/Poem

Inferences: Some implications

Complexity: Several ideas - closely related

Concept: Fanciful

Features

Character traits

Simple problem/solution

Topic

Mice

Homes

*Animals

Motorcycles

*Schools & Education

Low Frequency Words

absorber	adjusted	affection	awakened	bloodthirsty
cheapskates	cheeky	chrome	civilized	commercial
conversation	cousins	crouched	curtains	decision
defiant	disgrace	disgraceful	displeasure	dreaded
electronic	elevator	employees	entangled	exhaust
fault	fending	gimme	glimpse	gradually
grasped	halt	handyman	headlines	hoping
hotel's	ignored	incident	innocent	intelligent
jiggered	keen	kernel	kirby	kleenex
knowing	language	liar	linen	linoleum
lobby	loner	loosened	lounge	lovingly
loyal	luggage	manager	manager's	minch
motocross	motorcycles	mouseholes	mouser	mousey
murmured	muttered	napped	nipped	numb
overheard	overturning	pleaded	pleasant	pong
possessions	precious	ralph's	realize	rebuilding
relatives	remarked	reproach	responsibility	retired
rough	rougher	roused	rowdy	ryan
ryan's	satisfied	scrabbling	scurried	shared
shoving	siren	skier	soundly	sprang
squealing	stalking	stern	strenuous	strolled
summon	swerved	swirling	tangled	terrified
terrify	thistledown	threadbare	tow	treads
unaware	unfortunately	volunteered	wearily	whistling
whiz	winced	woodpile	yawned