"Lal opened his eyes again, and somehow I am sure that he was grinning, such a pleasant-looking, happy grin, but he spoke in his severest manner to me—
"You must really restrain these exhibitions of feeling in public; if a policeman chanced to observe you I think there would be the greatest difficulty in offering any adequate explanation.
"'No, Lal,' I answered; 'all I ses to the coppers when they ses anyfink to me is "Rats"—always "Rats," and when I ses "Rats" they can fink what they jolly well likes.'
"Lal sighed, and said, 'How like Dick Whittington!' and those were the very last words I ever heard him speak, although I little dreamed how I was to meet him again."
* * * * *
At this juncture Cookie appeared carrying a most wonderful silvern tea-tray, whereon a bright gilded urn sizzled happily, and a most inviting-looking pyramid of toasted muffins nestled in apparently friendly rivalry with the choicest cakes of Cookie's own baking; even a heaped-up crystal dish of whole strawberry jam could not conceal its blushes as the firelight played upon it.
"Fairy tales," said Cookie, "I know; I've listened to them many a time myself."
"No, Cookie, you are wrong," ventured Ridgwell in tones of rebuke; "it is not a fairy tale, every word of it is true."
"That's what Cinderella always declared, Master Ridgwell," was Cookie's imperturbable reply, as she prepared to depart.
The Writer chuckled quietly.