CHAPTER II
BY ORDER OF THE LION
"Hullo, Lal!" said Ridgwell, as he looked up at the Lion the following evening.
"Hullo!" rejoined the Lion huskily. "Who is that you have brought with you?"
"This is Christine," said Ridgwell.
"How do you do?" said the Pleasant-Faced Lion, and he seemed to look even more pleasant than usual. The Lion stretched himself, descended from his pedestal, and held out his paw to shake hands with Christine: Christine responded to these greetings shyly.
Ridgwell really thought the Lion was one of the most amiable creatures he had ever met.
"If you do not mind," the Lion observed to Christine, "you might walk upon the other side of Ridgwell and not next to me."
"Oh, Lal, why?" asked Christine.
"Who asked Christine to call me Lal?" inquired the Lion, as he lifted his head up with an intensely comical air of self-importance.
"I did," said Ridgwell; "you told me always to call you Lal."
"Quite right," replied the Lion. "But do you always do exactly alike, you two?"
"Yes, always," said Ridgwell.
"Humph!" grunted the Lion. "Suppose there is only one apple and you both want it, what happens?"
"We exactly divide it," said Ridgwell.
"Mathematically correct," said the Lion. "Good."
"But please why can't I walk next to you, Mister Lion?"
"Ha!" shrieked the Lion, "there she goes, Mister Lion. You taught her that too, I suppose."
"Hush, Lal," said Ridgwell, "don't get excited. Christine will soon get out of the habit and call you Lal, directly she knows how pleasant you are."
"You haven't answered my question, Lal," objected Christine.
"Well, little Christine, it is like this," and the Lion pondered deeply for awhile. "If you walked next to me and rested your hand upon my mane as you are doing now, anybody who saw us might take us for Una and the Lion, otherwise Beauty and the Beast, and oh! my dear child," implored the Lion, "you surely could not wish me ever to be called a beast."
"Of course not," said Christine; "we wouldn't hurt your feelings for worlds. So, Ridgie, you walk next to Lal, and I will walk the other side of you."
"A most reasonable child," muttered the Lion, "really quite reasonable."
"Did you bring the sulphur tablets?" asked the Lion mysteriously.
"Yes, here they are. Christine has them wrapped up in a packet," explained Ridgwell; "but, Lal, what can you want with sulphur tablets? You promised me we should both be asked to the party, but sulphur tablets do seem such an odd thing to want as a start. I have thought over it, and Christine has thought over it, and we cannot really think what they can be for."
The Lion chuckled his most pleasant chuckle.
"Give it up?"
"Yes," nodded Ridgwell.
"So would any one else," grinned the Lion, "except me. Have you ever thought how the thick yellow London fogs come?" inquired the Lion insinuatingly. "Do you know what causes them?"
"No," said Ridgwell. "I don't think anybody knows that."
"I do," replied the Lion.
"What causes them, then?" asked Ridgwell.
"The yellow fogs are caused solely by the habit the other three lions have of sucking sulphur tablets whilst they are asleep," declared the Lion. "They are always sleeping, and directly two sulphur tablets are placed in the corner of each one's mouth they go on sleeping and breathing, sleeping and breathing. The result is a thick yellow fog."
"I never knew that was the cause of London fogs," mused Ridgwell.
"One of them," sighed the Lion; "and who can wonder at it? Just look at the size of their mouths."
"But your mouth is as large as theirs, is it not?" debated Christine.
"Yes," said the Lion, "but there is a particular reason for my mouth being large."
"Why?" asked the children.
"On account of all the wisdom I utter," replied the Lion loftily.
"Anyway," said Ridgwell, "it does seem a horrid preparation for a party to start with a fog. Surely nobody would see what was going on."
"Hush, hush, my children," remonstrated the Pleasant-Faced Lion. "Just gather round and listen, and do not interrupt. You will be amazed at all the things you are about to see and hear, for you are going to be present to-night for a few minutes at the most wonderful party ever given in the whole world."
"That will be lovely," said Ridgwell and Christine. "And oh! Lal, really we have looked forward to it so much."
The Lion patted each of the children in turn affectionately upon the head with its paw, and they remembered afterwards that his paw was as soft as velvet, and really wasn't heavy at all.
"Chatter, chatter, chatter," said the Lion, "just like the magpies and the sparrows, and the fashionable Society people for that matter, but you must not interrupt. I am just like one of those guides that do all the talking, and if I am interrupted I lose my place, get all my thoughts out of order, and all the ceremony will be wrong. Then King Richard and King Charles will both be down upon me, and say the party was rotten, and that I was to blame; and as for Boadicea, she has a nasty temper, and will probably hit me over the head with her reins."
"Oh, Lal, do you mean to say that King Richard and King Charles and
Boadicea are coming to the party?"
"Yes, all of them," grunted the Lion. "Now be quiet, and just listen. The sulphur tablets which seem to cause you so much mystification are simply to cause a fog upon the outside of Trafalgar Square, and to shut out the sight of the most wonderful party in the world from the gaze of all the other people who have not been invited to it. Imagine the millions of people who would flock to see such a sight, if it were not screened off. Drivers of the Buzz Buzz things they call motor-buses and taxis, loafers, tramps, idlers, City men, work-girls, curious women—and, by the way, remember that women are always curious—would flock in millions, attracted by the lovely lights, which will be brighter than anything you have ever seen, by the jewels, which will be more dazzling than anything you have ever dreamed of, to say nothing about the gorgeous costumes that will rival anything displayed upon the Field of the Cloth of Gold, outdo the splendours of any court, and put the pageant of the grandest pantomime ever witnessed to shame. Follow me," commanded the Lion, "and you will see what you will see only once in your lives, and it all begins with the sulphur tablets."
Ridgwell and Christine followed, and were dumb with amazement. The Lion gently took the packet of sulphur tablets from Christine and thanked her for providing them. Gingerly he approached each of the other three sleeping lions in turn and insinuatingly placed two in the mouth of each lion; one tablet each side between each lion's big front teeth and its tongue.
"It's a dreadful habit," said the Pleasant-Faced Lion, "to suck sulphur tablets in your sleep, but I suppose it's soothing. Now watch," observed Lal maliciously. "Sleeping and breathing, sleeping and breathing, the sulphur tablets will soon commence to work."
Slowly as they watched, thick jets of yellow vapour commenced to rise upward and all around.
"Come," whispered Lal, "the thick fog stops like a wall at the back of their pedestals and all round Trafalgar Square. As I told you," chuckled the Lion, "the fog is only upon the outside of where the party will take place."
He now quickly drew the children out of the fog inside the immense charmed circle of Trafalgar Square, where the atmosphere was quite clear, but as yet quite dark.
The Lion lifted up his head and gave a most piercing and peculiar whistle; once, twice, three times and yet a fourth he repeated this signal.
The signal was answered in a curious manner. The whole space commenced to vibrate with a strange humming sound which resembled violins, violoncellos, flageolets and flutes being played upon very faintly. The sounds were so weirdly fascinating that any one might have imagined it proceeded from a little group of Eastern musicians playing upon reeds in order to charm some snake to uncoil and become sociable after a lengthy seclusion in its wicker-work basket.
"What is that music?" asked Ridgwell.
"The eight Dolphins of the fountains are humming happily. They are waiting to carry out my commands," answered the Lion.
Once again the Lion whistled four times.
Ridgwell and Christine, who were listening intently, could hear the scurrying of flying feet racing along. The sound drew nearer and nearer, until several dark forms were jostling each other immediately in front of where they stood, and they could feel the warm breath of some living things upon their hands. Suddenly in the darkness there was a chorus of hoarse laughter.
Ridgwell and Christine started slightly.
"Are they spirits?" inquired Ridgwell, with a note of anxiety in his voice.
"No," vouchsafed the Lion, "only the four merry laughing little Lions from outside Westminster Abbey. They are the most ridiculous creatures in all London.
"Stop laughing," commanded the Lion.
"Hear me, Gamble, Grin, Grub, and Carry-on-Merry, and hearken attentively.
"Carry-on-Merry, have you all stopped laughing?" demanded the Lion.
"Yes, mighty Lal, we are simply grinning at present, which is as near to being serious as we can ever become. We are only waiting for your commands."
The Lion lifted up his mighty head and called, "Silence, Dolphins."
Immediately the curious sounds of humming ceased.
"The party I give is to be the most beautiful in the world, displaying wonders such as no Emperor can procure. Each of the Four Seasons shall appear before us, perfect in every way, to be followed by the Pavilion of Gold."
"It shall be done, O Lal."
"My guests will be all the stray children of London. Call them from every street and court, from out every by-way, alley, and lane."
"They are all here waiting, O Lal."
"Good. Also gather together all the lost and stray dogs of London, every single one who is wandering about to-night."
"They have all been summoned, O Lal."
"The Royalty present will include Queen Boadicea, King Richard I., King
Charles I., and St. George."
"Each has received a royal invitation, O Lal, and the Royal personages will all be pleased to attend."
"Each boy and girl is to be dressed in the most costly costume, according to their taste."
"All is prepared for them, Lal, and even as you desire, great splendour awaits them, and nothing will be lacking for their perfect enjoyment."
"Good; see that all is well done, and be ready to begin when I give the signal. You understand?"
"We understand," laughed the four merry Lions.
"We obey," squeaked the Dolphins.
"Only one thing remains to be done, to dress you, Ridgwell, and you,
Christine."
"What shall we be dressed in?" inquired Christine.
"Shut your eyes," said the Lion gently, "and stretch your hands over the lake of the fountain and take what the Dolphins give you. They know what you want, and their taste in such matters is exquisite."
The children shut their eyes and obeyed. The Lion leant over the rim of the lake and whispered to the Dolphins—
"Dress the boy like a prince, and the girl like a little queen. The richest stuff, mind, five guineas a yard. Give her a crown of the whitest daisies with shell pink petal tips for a crown. No jewels, no pearls, no, no.
Take, oh take the pearls away,
For they bring tears, the wise men say.
chanted the Lion in his rich double bass. "Give them both jewelled shoe buckles; give the boy jewelled levée buttons for his satin breeches, a plain gold circlet for his head. A train for the girl from her shoulders, of pure cloth of gold; bring it light, so that it does not weigh heavily. White satin for the boy, with richest figured velvet doublet set with cloth of gold. Hang round their necks now, with all its luminous jewels, the highest order in the world, the Order of Great Imagination," commanded the Lion, "For by the Order of Great Imagination they shall see things that no one else can see, they shall be able to listen to things that no one else shall be able to hear. They shall delight in the exquisiteness of things as no one else can delight in them, who has not received this order. For I declare to you all that a child who has this glittering order shall know of things that nobody else in the whole world shall know of. Everything is ready."
"Let us have Spring," commanded the Lion.
Immediately the words were uttered there came the soft beating of birds' wings over Ridgwell's head. The atmosphere instantly became fragrant with the myriad scents of wild flowers.
A mist seemed to swim for a second before their eyes, and, as it cleared away, they were standing together with many other children knee-deep in unending banks of bluebells and primroses.
They were in the midst of the most perfect wooded dell they had ever beheld.
Thousands of delicate flower-stems thrust their tiny spears from earth and emerald moss, blossoming with flowers before their wondering eyes.
The spiral hedges slowly shook out dappled clusters of white hawthorn.
The interlaced trees above them, amidst which all the birds in Christendom appeared to be carolling simultaneously, gently outspread friendly arms, overladen with powdered red and white may blossom.
Butterflies with gaily painted wings hovered tenderly overhead, and tiny silver thistledown balls sailed across the blue sky spaces, like little wayward balloons without anybody in charge of them.
"You can all pick as many flowers as you like," suggested the Lion. "Flowers were meant for the children to pick, so make yourselves nosegays, garlands, and crowns galore. There are no notices here to keep off the grass. You can also chase the butterflies if you like, but I warn you that you will never catch them. As a matter of fact that is the one thing I don't permit. Any butterfly with really nice feelings objects most decidedly when a pin is run through its body, as much as a happy fish hates to be caught upon a hook. I sympathise with both of them, and consider such practices ought to be stopped."
Ridgwell, well-nigh immersed in a bank of bluebells, listened in a semi-enchanted condition to the Lion's words of wisdom, and watched the brilliant-coloured butterflies chasing each other in the pearly spaces above him.
Christine, grasping a great yellow bunch of primroses in each hand, ceased picking flowers and watched the bright-eyed squirrels and rabbits gambolling everywhere around.
"Ridgie, have you noticed all the rabbits and squirrels are quite tame?"
"Of course they're tame," agreed the Lion, "Nobody here to hurt them; why, they will come and eat out of your hand."
"Why is that?" asked Ridgwell.
"No guns or traps," chuckled the Lion. "Any animal respectably brought up is indignant at the very thought of a gun or a trap; consequently they keep themselves to themselves, and seldom go out into society."
Ridgwell's gaze roamed over the lovely spring landscape, and rested upon the masses of flowers the other children were picking.
"Everything here is just as it ought to be, isn't it, Lal?"
"Every single thing," answered the Lion. "But it is going to change, you know, almost directly."
"Change?" echoed Ridgwell. "Why, Lal?"
The Pleasant-Faced Lion chuckled softly, and lifting his head, called out, "Summer."
Immediately the Lion said "Summer," everything around commenced to alter most strangely.
Banks of primroses became stretches of sparkling golden sands, and the great masses of bluebells, after swaying once or twice, dissolved themselves into the misty rippling waves of a summer sea.
Christine and Ridgwell, looking hopelessly perplexed, found they were each in a tiny boat with a pearly sail, skimming over shallow blue waters that sparkled like sapphires.
The sky over their heads had changed to the burning blue of a summer day. The air was filled with the sweet salt spray of the sea, which descended in delicious showers upon all of them.
"Have all the children got boats?" demanded the Lion.
"All," shrilled the Dolphins. "Their boats can't upset, Lal, and the waters are transparent, and shallow enough for them to fish up coloured shells, coral, and mother-of-pearl. There's a sunken treasure-ship half buried in the sands far upon the other side, Lal, if they sail for it."
"They'll all make for that safe enough," answered the Lion. "Push their boats off, Dolphins, and help them all to land upon the far shore."
The Dolphins, splashing the water into little white frothy waves, accompanied the little bobbing fleet of pearl-boats, and sang gaily as they swam alongside.
"Blue and gold on the summer sea,
Each little mast with a sail of pearl,
Each dipping boat holds a boy or girl,
A most enchanting argosy.
A ship one's longed for most perhaps
That cannot anyhow collapse.
We'll sail away to the golden strand,
And maybe discover No Man's Land;
Each one of us will get a peep
Into the wonders of the deep,
Dredging for shells of brilliant hue,
And discovering mermaids too.
Sing ho! for a galleon of Spanish gold,
With jewels and ivory in the hold.
What treasure we'll find upon the main!
What triumph when we sail home again!
The wonder of every lad and lass
Will be the booty we amass."
After a short but entrancing voyage, and even whilst Ridgwell and Christine stood with the other children waist-deep in the great carven hold of the sunken Spanish galleon, shovelling out golden doubloons and precious jewels, the sound of Lal's voice came across the water to them.
"Autumn, ahoy!" shouted Lal.
* * * * *
"Isn't it bewildering, Chris?" lamented Ridgwell. "Only a second ago we were enthroned in a castle of golden coins and precious stones, and now, without any sort of warning whatever, we are standing upon the top of a waggon-load of newly-mown hay."
"Yes, Ridgie, and look at Lal across there, laughing about it like anything."
"He certainly does play tricks with us, Chris. See, he is sending all the children racing across to draw our hay-cart with those ropes of acorns and leaves they are holding. Hullo!" broke off Ridgwell, "somebody is throwing things at me, and if they continue doing it I shall jolly well start throwing back again."
Christine looked up from the stack of loose hay surrounding her in the cart upon which they stood.
"Why, it's apples," announced Christine.
"Where?" inquired her brother.
"Look, Ridgie, overhead, hundreds of them hanging from every tree. We can reach them quite easily."
There could be no doubt about the matter. Rosy apples ripened by the sun dangled in clusters overhead, and gently fell down at the very moment when any one felt disposed to eat them.
Within easy reach grew trailing brambles smothered with ripened patches of fragrant blackberries.
The Pleasant-Faced Lion lifted up his voice and inquired if the company present desired anything better, at the season they were now passing through, than unlimited apples, blackberries, and hay.
"No," came a simultaneous chorus from all the children.
"Good," replied the Lion. "After you have all eaten as many apples and blackberries as you want, the battle of the new-mown hay will start. I shall be the umpire. If Ridgwell and Christine can throw enough hay from their big cart to bury all the children around them, they will have won. If the other children can throw up enough hay to completely smother the cart, Ridgwell and Christine will have lost. Now start," laughed the Lion.
"Look here, Chris, we must get to work, so here goes."
Whereupon Ridgwell seized a big armful of loose hay and awaited the attack.
"We have the advantage of height," observed Christine, as she hastily gathered as much hay as she could hold, "and you know, Ridgie, it is much easier for us to throw down than it is for them to throw up."
"How about numbers?" objected Ridgwell; "why, it's two against hundreds, Chris."
Then the battle commenced. That engagement was a memorable one amidst the scented hay. Not infrequently it happened that only a laughing eye, or the tip of a small nose was anywhere visible to show who might be the victor. Nobody will ever be quite sure who won, and it is doubtful if the point was ever decided.
Ridgwell, feeling very smothered up, was remarking to Christine in muffled tones that he thought they must have lost, when the voice of Lal announced "Winter."
"Don't you feel buried, Chris?"
"Yes," came the unexpected reply, "I am. I'm simply buried in furs and snow!"
"Furs and snow?" repeated Ridgwell incredulously. "What on earth do you mean, Chris? Oh, good gracious, Chris, I've got an extraordinary feeling I'm falling over a sort of precipice."
"So we are," rejoined Christine philosophically. "Don't you see, Ridgie, that Lal has changed everything again. We are on a toboggan sleigh, and just starting down no end of a steep hill."
Ridgwell rubbed the finely powdered snow out of his eyes.
An entrancing winter scene lay below them. Giant blue-green pine-trees were dotted about over the glistening snow which flashed with a million diamond sparkles. All the children were clad in beautiful furs.
Some of them were sliding and skating, others snowballing and tumbling in the snow.
"Hang on, Ridgwell and Christine," shouted the Lion, "your toboggan has started at a pretty good pace. Hold tight."
Ridgwell and Christine shut their eyes, and as neither of them had any breath during that wild descent, they could only compare notes afterwards as to the amazing sensations they experienced during these moments.
When the toboggan had finally brought itself to a standstill Ridgwell extricated himself and viewed the snow-powdered spaces in front of them a trifle apprehensively. Bounding along towards them raced a pack of animals. Their eyes were glistening and their tongues hanging out.
"Wolves!" muttered Ridgwell. "Oh! I say, Chris, I don't think I quite care about meeting wolves. Do you? They don't look very friendly either, by the way they are coming along."
"It's the stray dogs," shouted Christine; "and look, Carry-on-Merry is putting little teams of them into sleighs to draw us along."
"Sleigh races about to start," called the Lion. "Take your seats, shake the reins and you will hear the silver bells tinkle. The first sleigh to reach the farthest pine-trees wins the race. Off you go."
Away flew the dogs, drawing the children over the powdered snow tracks.
After the race Carry-on-Merry collected all the children together.
"I propose a snowball match," grinned Carry-on-Merry. "Gamble, Grin,
Grub, and myself upon one side, against all you children."
"Ho, ho, ho!" laughed the Pleasant-Faced Lion. "My goodness, what a beating all you children are going to have. Why, Carry-on-Merry and his lot can manufacture snowballs as quick as lightning."
The battle commenced without delay, and it was a terrific conflict.
Hundreds of little snowballs whizzed through the air.
"Ha! ha!" laughed the Pleasant-Faced Lion, "the children are retreating. Carry-on-Merry, Gamble, Grin, and Grub, I believe you are the champion snowballers of the world. I think myself you must have acquired the gift from some unusually impish urchins whose methods you have closely observed round Westminster way. I consider your skill quite in accordance with the best street traditions."
The children were eventually snowballed to a standstill, and flinging away their remaining ammunition rolled themselves over on the snow to avoid any more of the unerring missiles of Carry-on-Merry and his band.
"Give in," demanded the Lion pleasantly.
"Never!" laughed the children.
"But you're beaten, you know," insisted the Lion. "Carry-on-Merry, you can take them all prisoners and escort them to the Pavilion of Gold."
Even whilst the children were tumbling in the snow the atmosphere became inky black.
The darkness was not in any way alarming; it had taken place so gradually that they scarcely noticed it, which only intensified the marvellous change which was to follow.