"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.