When Ridgwell came to a description of the Griffin, his sayings, doings, his woes and his character generally, the entire Court rocked with amusement which nobody made any effort to subdue.
"And now," said Counsel, who had watched everything up to this point with the cunning eye of a fox, "and now, little man, will you kindly sing as well as you can the song you say the Griffin sang at the party before the Lion?"
At this point Mr. Learnéd Bore, with his hands covering his ears, sank his head upon the solicitor's table at which he sat. If there was one thing Mr. Learnéd Bore hated more than children, it was music, in any shape or form, and when they both came together Mr. Learnéd Bore shared all the unpleasant feelings from which Mephistopheles was supposed to have suffered whenever he heard church bells. In a beautifully clear childish voice Ridgwell sang the merry song in the merriest way imaginable.
"Of a merry, merry King I will relate,
Who owned much silver, gold and plate,"
commenced Ridgwell triumphantly, in a quite wonderful rendering of the Griffin's favourite ballad. The tune was haunting, the swing of the air irresistible. The entire Court became slowly infected with the seductive gaiety of the song. The Juniors began to move their feet, the solicitors began to wave their quill pens to it. The Usher of the Court nodded his head, and his Lordship the Judge was so carried away by the melody that he unconsciously beat time gently by wagging one finger, whilst he smiled around upon the Court; and so in a burst of pleasing song Ridgwell continued—
"Yet one thing the merry, merry King forgot,
That it would be his Griffin's lot
To be very, very cold or very, very hot—"
"High up in Fleet Street," sang the entire Court.
"So slowly the faithful creature got
Chilblains in Fleet Street."
"Chilblains in Fleet Street," yelled all the Juniors in chorus. On went Ridgwell without a breath—
"The Griffin grew prettier day by day,
Directing the traffic along each way,
With always a pleasant word to say,"