"He might come, Chris; let's roll up the blind."
"No, the garden looks the same as it always does; there isn't a thing in sight. Suppose we don't go to sleep just yet and keep awake a bit; Lal might come and throw a stone at the window."
"Let's eat the chocolate," suggested Chris, who was occasionally practical, "while we wait."
Ridgwell untied the small parcel, a wooden box, about half the size of one of Father's cigar-boxes, and appeared to be made of the same kind of brown wood.
Disclosed to view at length, the birthday present was seen to be a fairly large chocolate lion lying upon a pedestal. The entire sweet-meat model was covered in thick golden paper; this was quickly stripped off, and Ridgwell did the honours as possessor.
"I'll eat his head half, Chris, and give you the other half; I think that's a fair division."
"Right," agreed Christine; "we can't eat more than that to-night, and the pedestal part will do for the morning."
"I can't understand Lal disappointing us to-night as he has done," said
Ridgwell, as he slowly munched his chocolate. "Can you, Chris?"
"No—isn't this chocolate good, Ridgie?"
"Yes, but fancy having to be contented with a chocolate lion when we know a real one! On my birthday too, and yet he promised faithfully we should see him again."