The Tale of Lal Part 10

A grey sombre figure suddenly strode into the brilliant flower-draped pavilion; a slouch hat made the figure look very sinister, and a sword clanked at his side.

The figure strode on and scowled darkly at King Richard sitting gracefully upon his charger. "Ho! ho!" called the sombre man in a loud voice. "Ho! ho!" he repeated with a mirthless laugh.

King Richard neither moved not took the faintest notice.

On strode the figure towards King Charles seated upon his charger, and who was regarding the children with the pleasantest expression possible.

"Ha!" shouted the figure as it strode along. "Ha! I say, Ha!"

King Charles still smiled gravely and took no notice. The striding figure that shouted "Ha!" might never have uttered a word for all the notice King Charles took of him.

"Ha!" shouted the figure for the last time.

Then, seeing that n.o.body took any notice of him, the figure looked glum, and folding his arms espied the Griffin peacefully asleep, the white dinner napkin covering his fond, foolish face, waiting to be awakened, so the Griffin fondly hoped--awakened by a gentle tap as Beauty. The Griffin's slumber seemed to annoy the sombre man intensely, for without uttering a syllable he drew his sword and smote the Griffin hard upon the red flannel paws that were folded with a view to pictorial effect beside the Griffin's covered face.

There was a shriek of anguish, and the Griffin awoke.

The pain the Griffin suffered from the blow upon his tender paws was as nothing compared to the blow to the Griffin's feelings when he realised that his ineffably touching picture of the Sleeping Beauty had been spoiled for the evening. A great surge of sudden hatred swept over the Griffin at the swaggering intruder who had dared to strike him, and simultaneously the Griffin remembered something he had once heard said by a man in blue wearing a helmet close to where he always stood in Fleet Street.

The Griffin seized Carry-on-Merry's golden wand for the second time that evening and approached the sombre man of the top boots and the slouch hat menacingly. "Move on," shouted the Griffin, giving a lifelike imitation of the man in blue with a helmet. "Move on, d'ye hear?"

The sombre figure backed a little way in astonishment.

"Move on," said the Griffin, "out of this; we don't want you here.

Orff you go!" The sombre figure retreated a little more. "If I catch you here again," said the Griffin pompously, "I will run you in; no loafing here!" The sombre man gave one scowl, sheathed his sword with a clank, and hurriedly took his departure without once looking back or uttering any further remark.

"Bravo!" muttered the Lion, "that is the first useful thing the Griffin has done all the evening."

"Who was that dismal looking man m.u.f.fled up like a brigand?" asked Ridgwell.

The Lion smiled. "That was Oliver Cromwell. He came to try and spoil the party."

"Why?" asked Ridgwell.

"He doesn't like the extravagance," said the Lion; "he hates any display, and cannot bear to see children happy."

"Thank you, Griffin," said Christine.

"Listen, all of you," simpered the Griffin, "some one has thanked me.

Oh! Fancy anybody thanking _me_. Has everybody heard me publicly thanked?" asked the Griffin anxiously.

"Yes, everybody," said the Lion; "we don't want any more of it."

The Griffin looked sulky.

"As long as everybody knows what I did," said the Griffin. "n.o.body else thought of doing it. Do you think it was better than my being the Sleeping Beauty?" inquired the Griffin eagerly.

"Yes," replied the Lion, "it was more realistic."

"Fancy that, more realistic! how beautiful!" and the Griffin sidled away, sn.i.g.g.e.ring with self-gratified pride at his own achievement.

"I am afraid," explained the Lion to Christine and Ridgwell, "that he intends to sing."

"But can he sing?" inquired Ridgwell.

"No," said the Lion, "it is a wretched performance; yet, like all other people who cannot really sing, he is dying to be asked to do so, and I feel sure that some one will be misguided enough to ask him. You see,"

explained the Lion, "the Griffin cannot sing in tune, but like most people afflicted in the same way, he is totally unconscious of his failing, and really believes his own singing to be quite beautiful."

Christine and Ridgwell both laughed. "It must be very funny," they said.

"It is so funny," answered the Lion, "and so deplorable at the same time that it is almost beyond a joke."

Almost before the Lion had finished speaking Carry-on-Merry, with a particularly wicked laugh, danced to the centre of the bright ball-room and said he thought that perhaps the Griffin might be persuaded to sing.

"I thought so," groaned the Lion.

The Griffin gurgled with pleasure, and immediately started to look coy, and playfully tap the golden carpet spread upon the ground with his forepaws, as if he had suddenly discovered some new beauty in the pattern of the luxurious floor covering.

"Really," said the Griffin, "I do not think I could. Oh! really _no_."

"Showing off," grunted the Lion; "he'll sing in the end, safe enough.

Worse luck!"

"With all these beautiful singers here," smirked the Griffin, "to ask _me_. Oh!--really!"

"Oh, please sing," everybody murmured politely.

"Oh--oh!--really," simpered the Griffin, trying in vain to blush. "You see, I am not perhaps in my usual form."

"What on earth will it be like, then?" ventured the Lion.

"I am sure you will honour and delight the company," laughed Carry-on-Merry, with his wickedest laugh.

"Besides," demurred the Griffin hesitatingly, "I have two chilblains and such tender paws, I don't think I could really."

"We did not ask you to _play_," interrupted the Lion shortly.

"No, no," replied the Griffin hastily, "to sing--I understand. Yes, to sing. Oh--fancy asking _me_ to sing. Well, well, perhaps a few bars."

"Now we are in for it," said the Lion, "and I don't suppose you will ever hear anything like it again."

"I do so want to hear the Griffin," said Ridgwell, "and I really cannot think what it will be like."

"Like?" echoed the Lion, "it will be like the effect of the first early gooseberries of the year without sugar or milk; it will be like slate pencils squeaking upon slates; like a trombone that somebody is learning to play for the first time. However, nothing short of an earthquake will stop him now, for, as I tell you, he is simply dying to sing the moment he thinks anybody at all will listen to him, and that he can show off. However," added the Lion, "when it gets beyond all human endurance, I make a sign to Richard I. Now the Griffin is terribly frightened of Richard I."

"Why?" asked both the children.

"Because the Griffin is afraid that Richard will advance and hit him on the paws with the big sword he carries."