"He might come, Chris; let's roll up the blind."

"No, the garden looks the same as it always does; there isn't a thing in sight. Suppose we don't go to sleep just yet and keep awake a bit; Lal might come and throw a stone at the window."

"Let's eat the chocolate," suggested Chris, who was occasionally practical, "while we wait."

Ridgwell untied the small parcel, a wooden box, about half the size of one of Father's cigar-boxes, and appeared to be made of the same kind of brown wood.

Disclosed to view at length, the birthday present was seen to be a fairly large chocolate lion lying upon a pedestal. The entire sweet-meat model was covered in thick golden paper; this was quickly stripped off, and Ridgwell did the honours as possessor.

"I'll eat his head half, Chris, and give you the other half; I think that's a fair division."

"Right," agreed Christine; "we can't eat more than that to-night, and the pedestal part will do for the morning."

"I can't understand Lal disappointing us to-night as he has done," said Ridgwell, as he slowly munched his chocolate. "Can you, Chris?"

"No--isn't this chocolate good, Ridgie?"

"Yes, but fancy having to be contented with a chocolate lion when we know a real one! On my birthday too, and yet he promised faithfully we should see him again."

"He has forgotten us," confessed the children as they went to bed.

"Suppose he has too much to think of," said Ridgie; "he can't remember everything."

Christine never knew quite how long she had been asleep that night, before she distinctly heard m.u.f.fled mutterings from her brother Ridgie's bed the other side of their little room. Surely Ridgie couldn't be saying his prayers at this time of night; then Christine was certain she heard half-smothered sobs.

"Ridgie, what's the matter; are you crying?" demanded Christine. The sobs became very audible now, and even an apparent effort to stifle them with the bed-clothes did not seem in any way to lessen them.

Christine pressed the b.u.t.ton of the electric light, and in the sudden illumination regarded her brother across the room.

"Ridgie, why are you crying? are you in pain? have you eaten too much?"

"No," sobbed Ridgie, "no, but oh! Chrissie, I've--I've--we've eaten Lal."

Christine sat up in bed.

"Ridgie," demanded Christine, "are you dreaming?"

"No," whispered Ridgie, between his sobs; "don't you remember--

Christian child or Pagan child Which is my denomination?

Have I eaten dear old Lal In my birthday celebration?

Here, overcome by recollections, Ridgwell broke down completely. "I _have_ eaten him," moaned Ridgwell; "at least, _we've_ eaten him, for you helped. He said we should eat him, and we've done it. That's how Lal meant to come to us; now, I remember, it was exactly like him.

Just as--as he is in Trafalgar Square on his pedestal. Oh, Chris, after all the Christians have eaten a lion; he said we should; we aren't Christians any longer, we're Pagans, and--and," confessed Ridgwell with a final outburst, "I feel like a cannibal; it's beastly."

Christine had become quite pale during this recital; but she thought for awhile before replying.

"Perhaps, Ridgie, Lal meant us to eat him--I mean his likeness in chocolate--all the time, and most likely he isn't angry with us at all.

He might have arranged it all as a joke."

"It isn't a joke at all," sniffed Ridgwell, "it's horrible. We have eaten one of our very best friends. Oh! if only the Order of Great Imagination hadn't been taken away from us!"

"I am not so sure, Ridgie," observed Christine, with feminine intuition, "that you have lost _all_ your order of imagination; I think you have still a lot left, or you would never have discovered Lal's riddle."

It was Ridgwell's turn now to sit up in bed, and he asked eagerly--

"Do you really think it was only a riddle, Chris, and Lal meant only to have a joke with us?"

Christine nodded gravely.

"I feel very comforted with that," said Ridgwell, "so turn off the light, Chris, and we'll go to sleep again; but oh, won't I just tell Lal next time I pa.s.s him in Trafalgar Square!"

Some few moments afterwards in the darkness Christine answered--

"You hadn't better make any remarks to Lal in public; you know he cautioned us about attracting a crowd."

"Crowd or no crowd, I mean to tell him what I think of him," a.s.serted Ridgwell before he turned over and went to sleep.

The clock in the hall was just chiming twelve, and Mr. Jollyface was taking his departure.

Father and Mother were wishing him good-night and thanking him for bringing the chocolate lion for Ridgwell.

"It is really quite remarkable how I came to buy it," agreed Mr.

Jollyface; "but I was pa.s.sing through Trafalgar Square when I remembered that I hadn't bought Ridgie a present, and the sight of the corner lion, as I crossed the Square, made me remember a sweetstuff model of him I had seen in a chocolate shop in the Strand, so I went and bought it. But really the most wonderful thing about it is the almost uncanny intelligence of your children. Bless my soul! they couldn't have known I had bought it; and yet, would you believe it, they actually expected a lion, and asked me if I had brought one with me."

"Yes," agreed Father, "it's very wonderful; they were trying to describe a lion before you came in. I think at times children must have second sight, and that is why I am afraid we sometimes do not understand them. Good-night, Jollyface; come and see us again soon."

BOOK II

WHAT THE WRITER AND THE LORD MAYOR DECLARED

CHAPTER V

THE WRITER APPEARS UPON THE SCENE

There had been a certain amount of excitement when Father and Mother had started for their holidays abroad, but nothing in any way to be compared to the excitement of the day when the Writer made his first appearance.

Ridgwell and Christine distinctly heard themselves being asked for by a visitor, one day when the sitting-room door was open, and to be inquired for personally was at least something of an event. "I want to see the children," a voice had said, and there was no mistaking the significance of the words. Without any undue delay, Ridgwell and Christine immediately presented themselves.

The stranger was led in captive, one upon either side of him, and being placed upon the sofa was regarded steadfastly for some little while.

During a very thorough scrutiny the prisoner smiled affably, produced a pipe which he lighted carefully and puffed at steadily, and then inquired casually if they both thought he would do.