His Lordship, after partaking of a final sip of the lukewarm water still beside him, then delivered his verdict.
"His Lordship entirely agreed that the Lord Mayor of London had been quite blameless throughout this case, the Lord Mayor's devotion to the British Lion as a symbol, was the most touching feature in the case; he would therefore have damages against Mr. Learnéd Bore, and Mr. Learnéd Bore would have to bear the entire costs of the Action.
"The damages in this Case would not be the unsatisfactory damages sometimes assessed at one farthing, nor would they be one shilling, or even half-a-crown. The damages he, the Learned Judge, awarded would be a sum sufficient to purchase a bottle of Crème-de-Menthe, and that of the very best (sensation in Court), to be given to his Worshipful the Lord Mayor in order to show that the fluid which had figured so conspicuously in this Case, although it might do some people harm, could only do good in the case of his Worshipful the Lord Mayor, since, to use Counsel's borrowed, but apt phrase, this liquid had only made it possible for the Lord Mayor to see sermons in bronze and stone, and good in everything; good even in the effigy of the Pleasant-Faced Lion, who had been brought into Court for the first time in its life, and who, could it have the power of hearing, must surely approve of the verdict now given."
The Learned Judge, having thus delivered himself, then rose, and once more hopped out of Court.
The sensation throughout the entire Court was profound.
* * * * *
Some considerable time after the Writer had hurried Ridgwell from the scene, and had provided a quite sumptuous tea, which both of them stood in need of, in a tea-shop in Fleet Street, they repaired upon the way home, and passed the statue of the Griffin.
"Look," whispered Ridgwell, as he pulled the sleeve of the Writer's coat to attract the Writer's attention. "Oh, look, the Griffin has been weeping bitterly."
It was, indeed, only too true. The Griffin's cup of sorrow and mortification was full. Four great indignant tears trembled upon his cheeks ready to fall. He had been compelled that day to stand and listen to people humming his, the Griffin's, own, pet song as they left the Court, and the Griffin had not been able to join in it.
The Pleasant-Faced Lion had gone into the Court and had left it in triumph, cheered by enthusiastic and interested crowds, whilst he, the Griffin, had remained unnoticed. The Griffin's feet were very, very cold, and his vain, foolish, excitement-loving heart had turned to stone.