The Tale of Lal Part 40

"Look," whispered Ridgwell, as he pulled the sleeve of the Writer's coat to attract the Writer's attention. "Oh, look, the Griffin has been weeping bitterly."

It was, indeed, only too true. The Griffin's cup of sorrow and mortification was full. Four great indignant tears trembled upon his cheeks ready to fall. He had been compelled that day to stand and listen to people humming his, the Griffin's, own, pet song as they left the Court, and the Griffin had not been able to join in it.

The Pleasant-Faced Lion had gone into the Court and had left it in triumph, cheered by enthusiastic and interested crowds, whilst _he_, the Griffin, had remained unnoticed. The Griffin's feet were very, very cold, and his vain, foolish, excitement-loving heart had turned to stone.

Having contemplated this sad spectacle, the Writer and Ridgwell clambered upon the outside of a bus going westward. Half-way up the Strand the road was partly blocked by a concourse of cheering people.

As their bus came alongside, Ridgwell and the Writer both stood up to look over the bus rail to see what was causing all the commotion. It was the Pleasant-Faced Lion being escorted back to Trafalgar Square in state upon a lorry. The crowd cheered enthusiastically upon viewing the unusual sight.

As the Writer and Ridgwell gazed at their old friend, the Pleasant-Faced Lion slowly, solemnly, and deliberately winked his right eye, which was nearest to them.

The Father and Mother of Ridgwell and Christine, upon returning from a most enjoyable holiday upon the Continent, could not avoid seeing the large headlines of the evening papers pasted everywhere upon the station boards at Charing Cross.

The headlines were varied; some of them read, "Comic Opera Scene in Court." "Amusing Case before Mr. Justice Chatty." "Ridgwell Makes all London Laugh."

"Very uncommon name," observed the Father of Ridgwell, as he bought some papers. Later on, in the railway carriage upon the way home, the Father of Ridgwell first read his paper, and then promptly wiped his eyegla.s.ses, to a.s.sure himself that he was not dreaming.

"Good gracious!" exclaimed that worthy but astonished gentleman, "why, it's _our_ Ridgwell!"

"What is our Ridgwell?" inquired the Mother of that hopeful.

"Our Ridgwell has been into Court, before a Judge," faltered his perplexed Father; "has sung a song, which seems to have been a great success. Positively gave evidence that one of the lions in Trafalgar Square was alive, and a great friend of his, and that the animal has occasionally given him a free ride home on his back to Balham; did you ever hear of such a thing?"

The Mother of Ridgwell hastily perused the papers recording these strange statements, whilst the Father of Ridgwell leaned back in the railway carriage, endeavouring to recover his breath, and collect his startled faculties both together.

The Mother of Ridgwell read the part describing her offspring's performance to the end, and then observed--

"Did you see, Father, that Ridgwell declares he possessed a high Order of Imagination, and then lost it?"

The Father of Ridgwell groaned.

"Lost it? Good gracious me, what nonsense, my dear; I should think myself he has just found it. I'll talk to that Writer, when I see him; he really oughtn't to be allowed about at large, any more than the Pleasant-Faced Lion. I consider the whole history of this animal most incredible."

CHAPTER XI

THE END OF THE MATTER

The family had just sat down to breakfast when the Writer arrived at Balham in a taxi-cab, bearing two large cardboard dress-boxes with him.

Having deposited these articles, he was greeted by the family.

"Oh! you bad man," commenced the Mother of Ridgwell and Christine; "sit down and have breakfast at once before you start any more of those plausible tales of yours."

"How did you get here so early?" inquired Father.

"Took a taxi, but it wasn't half such fun as riding down here on a Lion's back!"

Ridgwell leaned one side of his head down upon the table and laughed, and Christine glanced round shyly.

"A fine sort of commotion you and Ridgwell have caused," protested Father; "listen to this paragraph out of this morning's paper."

The Writer actually appeared to enjoy eating his breakfast unabashed, whilst Father proceeded to read.

"'The amusing action which took place yesterday in Court X---- has been the cause of unprecedented scenes in London. Thousands of children, both boys and girls, throng Trafalgar Square in order to see if the Pleasant-Faced Lion intends to speak, or give another children's party.

"'Hundreds of children congregate every minute round the Griffin's statue, waiting for it to sing, and have to be moved on good-naturedly but firmly by the police.'"

"A nice state of things," commented Father, during a pause in the reading.

"'There can be no doubt whatever that the extraordinary story of Lal has interested all London, and everybody is laughing at the idea.

"'Sir Simon Gold, the Lord Mayor of London, with the usual thoughtfulness that always distinguishes him, has resolved that the London children shall not be disappointed with regard to a party. Sir Simon has therefore taken the four biggest public halls, in the four quarters of London, north, south, east, and west, and all the children of London in each district will be entertained upon behalf of the Pleasant-Faced Lion by the Lord Mayor to a delightful evening party the same evening that the Lord Mayor gives his usual children's party at the Mansion House.'"

"I can add something to that piece of news," observed the Writer, as he continued eating his breakfast happily, and totally unconscious, seemingly, of his many misdoings. "In those two big cardboard boxes are two costumes; they are presents from Mum, one for Ridgwell, and the other for Christine. Oh, no!--not to be opened until after breakfast.

Now, upon the night of the parties an event is going to take place that will please everybody. The Lord Mayor wants both Ridgwell and Christine to tell the story of Lal at each party after the dancing. It will be the event of the evening, and will be ill.u.s.trated on the cinematograph."

"Oh!" echoed Ridgwell and Christine, "what fun!"

"All very fine for all of you," protested Father, "but I have to go to town to-day on business, and if I cannot get past Fleet Street or the Griffin on account of all the children round it, what am I to do, and how am I to get along with my work?"

Christine and Ridgwell sidled up, one upon either side of Father's chair.

"Don't you know you ought to be very pleased?" they said.

"Why?" inquired Father.

"Because the Griffin is happy at last, he is being noticed."

The Writer laughed: the Writer was really a most unscrupulous person as to the source from which he derived amus.e.m.e.nt.

"It is a very incredible tale," remarked Father, severely.

"_Most_ incredible," confessed Mother, with a smile.

THE END