The Tale of Lal Part 14

"No, no," hastily interposed Ridgwell, "I don't want any medicine, we only came in to ask you a question."

"Well, you can't ask me any of your questions now, I'm busy," a.s.serted Cookie. "Ain't got no time."

"Oh, Cookie dear, you can listen whilst you beat up an egg,"

expostulated Ridgwell.

"_Egg!_" shouted Cookie indignantly, "three blessed eggs for your cake, and 2 1/2d. each, new laid too, and I only bought a dozen of 'em."

"Yes, yes, Cookie dear. I meant three eggs, the number doesn't matter, and it won't take a minute for us to tell you. It's just this.

Suppose a great big beautiful Lion came and sat in the middle of the raspberry canes just outside your kitchen door, what would you do?"

"Is this a conundrum?" demanded Cookie. "If so, I don't know no answer to it, Master Ridgie."

"It isn't a riddle, Cookie, at all. If a Lion really came to see you, what would you do?"

"I should fetch a policeman at once," announced Cookie.

Ridgwell smiled. "A policeman wouldn't be any good, Cookie! Really, you know, he couldn't do anything."

"Then I should fetch two policemen," said Cookie, shortly and conclusively. Cookie, at this point in the argument, beat the three new-laids at such a furious rate, that the foam of them whirled round and round very much like the agitated thoughts of Cookie herself at being confronted with such an outrageous problem the first thing in the morning.

"'Owever," amended Cookie, "afore I went to fetch them policemen, I'd throw all the boiling green water over him, from the window first, and see if that wouldn't s.h.i.+ft 'im."

Both Ridgwell and Christine laughed outright, the idea was too ridiculous. To think of their friendly and Pleasant-Faced Lal coming to make a society call and having boiling cabbage water thrown over his stately head, was altogether too much for their gravity.

"How indignant he would be," laughed Ridgwell. "Oh! Chris only think how hurt he would feel as he shook the stuff off his mane and whiskers!"

This imaginary picture, however, seemed to be too much for Christine, so she determined to speak seriously to Cookie.

"Cookie," said Christine in her most earnest manner, "a lion may arrive outside this door (pointing to the article in question in a most impressive fas.h.i.+on) at any moment to-day."

"Yes," added Ridgwell, "and we only want you to be prepared."

Cookie's eyes seemed to boil a little faster for a moment, appeared to swell in fact and be altogether overdone, as she fixed her orbs upon the door in question, then up went Cookie's ap.r.o.n over her head, and alas! down went the three new-laid at 2 1/2d. each, all spilled upon the floor, and the cup broken as well.

At this moment the children instinctively realised that discretion was sometimes the better part of valour, and made speedy preparations to vacate in favour of other quarters of the house, not, however, before they could hear Cookie moaning beneath her ap.r.o.n:

"Escaped I s'pose, oh! mighty 'Eavens! escaped from the Crystal Palace, or the Zoo, or a circus or somethink, oh, it ain't safe living in England! Blowed if I don't bolt the kitchen door, and n.o.body warned me or told me it was in the morning papers. Thank goodness I've taken in the milk, and them three eggs all spoiled. Only nine left now,"

moaned Cookie, "and cutlets and pancakes for lunch too."

"Come, Chris," whispered Ridgwell. "You see we can't expect much support from Cookie."

"No," agreed Christine, as they departed for the dining-room. "How about Mother? Let's hear what she says."

"Yes," a.s.sented Ridgwell. "You see Mother is very nice and kind always to anybody who calls, and perhaps if she spoke to Lal and welcomed him a bit when he comes, he might feel at home at once."

"I can't think where we are going to ask him to sit, can you, Ridgie?

You see," explained Christine, "it's so inhospitable to leave him in the hall, and if he walks into the drawing-room and swishes his tail even contentedly, all the china would go over at once."

"No, Chris, Lal is much too well mannered to do anything like that, but I'm afraid the only place for him will be the hearth-rug in front of the fire. Stop a minute, Chris, I've got it. Of course, the sofa in the drawing-room. n.o.body must sit on the sofa at all to-day, then it will be all ready for him when he comes, and we shall only have to tuck him in a bit at the sides if he's too big."

Matters were not much better understood in the drawing-room, for a lady visitor had just called and was waiting for Mother to come down. Mrs.

Tallcat was a lady who always deemed it her duty to call once a week upon everybody, whether people wished to see her or whether they did not wish to see her.

Had a census of opinion been taken concerning Mrs. Tallcat's calls, Mrs. Tallcat would have found, much to her astonishment no doubt, that she possessed very few votes, and no votes at all from children.

"Would you very much mind if you didn't sit upon the sofa?" commenced Ridgwell gently.

Mrs. Tallcat, always inclined towards huffiness at a moment's notice, consequently selected a chair.

"Is the sofa likely to give way?" inquired Mrs. Tallcat suspiciously.

"No," explained Christine, "it is because it is so strong and firm on its legs that we have chosen it."

"I never allow _my_ boy to play upon the sofa," sniffed Mrs. Tallcat, as if she were referring to a piano.

"It isn't to play upon," remarked Ridgwell, "but we are expecting a very, very solid visitor."

Mrs. Tallcat sniffed for the second time. "I never allow my boy to make any remarks whatever upon visitors who call," responded Mrs.

Tallcat icily.

"Oh, Lal doesn't mind," said Christine cheerfully.

"Who is Lal?" inquired Mrs. Tallcat, "a gentleman friend of your father's?"

"No," said Ridgwell, "Lal is a lion, and Father doesn't know him yet."

"Tut, tut, tut," snapped Mrs. Tallcat crossly. "Directly _my_ boy begins to talk nonsense I send him straight to bed."

"It's bad for the health to go to bed at the wrong time," suggested Ridgwell pensively.

"My boy always does as he's told," announced Mrs. Tallcat triumphantly; "if he doesn't, he is whipped."

At this point a new idea suddenly struck Ridgwell. "Chris," he whispered audibly, "we must somehow get the old cat out of the way."

Mrs. Tallcat instantly bridled, and her face became inflamed with anger. "How _dare_ you!" commenced the indignant lady.

"I mean the _other_ cat," explained Ridgwell, "our own cat."

The explanation, although convincing, was perhaps ambiguous. It was undoubtedly fortunate that Mother timed her appearance at this point to a nicety, and so prevented any further complications.

"Dreadful time her boy must have, don't you think, eh, Chris?" asked Ridgwell.

Christine nodded.

"Only fancy, Chris," pursued Ridgwell, "calling her little boy Tom.

Tom Tallcat; why, he'll be chaffed no end at school. I do feel sorry for him; and then the way she dresses him, coloured velvet and a brigand's hat with a feather in it, just as if he was part of a circus.

I'm glad Mother doesn't dress me like that. The other day I met him and he'd got a bow and arrow. She'd actually sent him into the street with a bow and arrow. I said 'Hullo, Robin Hood,' not meaning anything, and he began to cry; it was awkward, and I'm sure he feels it. Father said that the Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Children ought to interfere, but I think that was perhaps only one of Father's jokes."