Excerpt: ...heads. "Well, in to-day's paper there was one paragraph that threw out a very decided hint that the present Lord Mayor of London was going to be knighted by the King, not only on account of his public worth, but because the wonderful Home for London Children he has built is almost completed." "Of course, the new Lord Mayor is Alderman Gold?" inquired Christine. "He was Alderman Gold," said the Writer, "but I think myself before many days have passed it will be Sir Simon and Lady Gold." "Who is Lady Gold? You never told us a word about Lady Gold," objected Ridgwell. "Ah," said the Writer, "that will all come in the second part of my story. Any way, no name was ever more appropriate than hers. She is absolutely gold all through, head and heart and everything. Lady Gold is, I consider, an absolutely suitable name for her, although two people I know always call her Mum; and, do you know, I think she will prefer that title, even when she gets the other." "Who are the two people who call her Mum?" "That's telling in advance," observed the Writer, as he helped himself to a fourth muffin; "and of course to tell in advance always spoils a story. But I intend that both of you children shall hear and see the story to an end. In three days' time from now I am coming to fetch you both, and you will be able to see the Lord Mayor drive past in state, for I am giving a tea to celebrate that great occasion and also another great occasion at one and the same time. I will finish the story then, and you will both meet the Lord Mayor of London." "Will he have his robes on?" inquired Christine expectantly. "I don't know that he will wear them, but perhaps I could induce him to bring them with him to show us." "That's fine," said Ridgwell. "Will you really come to fetch us?" "Yes, in three days' time." "Where do you live?" asked Ridgwell, unexpectedly. The Writer pretended to be most mysterious all at once. "Where do you suppose I live?" he asked Ridgwell; "I do not...
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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."
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Book Description IndyPublish, 2009. Paperback. Book Condition: Brand New. 200 pages. 9.00x6.00x0.46 inches. This item is printed on demand. Bookseller Inventory # zk1449131492