V THE WRITER APPEARS ON THE SCENE VI TWO DICK WHITTINGTONS VII THE LION MAKES HIS SIGN VIII AN UPSETTING ARTICLE IN THE MORNING PAPER IX THE WRITER PLANS WICKED PLANS BOOK III WHAT THE PUBLIC HEARD ABOUT X THE LION GOES TO COURT XI THE END OF THE MATTER BOOK I WHAT RIDGWELL AND CHRISTINE DECLARED CHAPTER I THE PLEASANT-FACED LION Ridgwell always told Christine afterwards that he thought the Lion first spoke to him in Trafalgar Square, the day when he was lost in the fog. Ridgwell never knew how he became separated from the rest, but like all other unpleasant experiences it was one step, so to speak, and there he was, wandering about lost. The fog appeared to have swallowed up the friends he had been walking with a moment before; he could only hear voices as if people were talking through a gramophone, and see looming black shadows which did not seem to be accompanied by any bodies; then whack--he walked right into something big which did not move. At this point Ridgwell was seriously thinking about commencing to cry. "Stop that," said a gruff voice. "What?" faltered Ridgwell. "Going to cry." "I am not sure," said Ridgwell, "that I was." "I am," said the gruff voice. "I saw the corners of your mouth go down. Now can you climb up? No, of course you can't, you are too small. Here, catch hold of my paw! There you are!" grunted the Lion, when Ridgwell was seated safely. "You just fit nicely; all the children fit in here. Knock those rolled-up policemen's capes off, they annoy me every day when they put them there. They tickle me, and I can't scratch about with my paws either." Ridgwell was now lost in amazement, and regarded the Lion in open-mouthed astonishment. The Lion purred contentedly. It was a nice homely sounding, domestic purr, and many times deeper and more impressive than that of a cat. "What's your name?" demanded the Lion, whilst Ridgwell was still gasping. "Ridgwell." "Very appropriate too," said the Lion. "Here you are sitting in safety on the Ridge with me, and you are Well, aren't you?" "Yes, thank you." "There you are then," said the Lion. "_Ridge-Well_, what more do you want? Now I suppose you wish to know who I am? Well, I don't mind telling you. I am the Pleasant-Faced Lion. I am the only real Lion of the four, consequently I have a more intelligent expression than the others. The other three are only just common lions, and are always asleep. Now _I_ come to life once in every generation and have a talk to the children, or to any one grown up who is imaginative enough to understand me. I like children, they are a hobby of mine. I am not in my usual spirits to-day," continued the Lion, "I have caught cold." "Have you?" said Ridgwell. "I am very sorry."