"Ridgie, what's the matter; are you crying?" demanded Christine. The sobs became very audible now, and even an apparent effort to stifle them with the bed-clothes did not seem in any way to lessen them.
Christine pressed the button of the electric light, and in the sudden illumination regarded her brother across the room.
"Ridgie, why are you crying? are you in pain? have you eaten too much?"
"No," sobbed Ridgie, "no, but oh! Chrissie, I've--I've--we've eaten Lal."
"Ridgie," demanded Christine, "are you dreaming?"
"No," whispered Ridgie, between his sobs; "don't you remember--
Christian child or Pagan child Which is my denomination? Have I eaten dear old Lal In my birthday celebration?
Here, overcome by recollections, Ridgwell broke down completely. "I _have_ eaten him," moaned Ridgwell; "at least, _we've_ eaten him, for you helped. He said we should eat him, and we've done it. That's how Lal meant to come to us; now, I remember, it was exactly like him. Just as--as he is in Trafalgar Square on his pedestal. Oh, Chris, after all the Christians have eaten a lion; he said we should; we aren't Christians any longer, we're Pagans, and--and," confessed Ridgwell with a final outburst, "I feel like a cannibal; it's beastly."
Christine had become quite pale during this recital; but she thought for awhile before replying.
"Perhaps, Ridgie, Lal meant us to eat him--I mean his likeness in chocolate--all the time, and most likely he isn't angry with us at all. He might have arranged it all as a joke."
"It isn't a joke at all," sniffed Ridgwell, "it's horrible. We have eaten one of our very best friends. Oh! if only the Order of Great Imagination hadn't been taken away from us!"
"I am not so sure, Ridgie," observed Christine, with feminine intuition, "that you have lost _all_ your order of imagination; I think you have still a lot left, or you would never have discovered Lal's riddle."
It was Ridgwell's turn now to sit up in bed, and he asked eagerly--
"Do you really think it was only a riddle, Chris, and Lal meant only to have a joke with us?"
"I feel very comforted with that," said Ridgwell, "so turn off the light, Chris, and we'll go to sleep again; but oh, won't I just tell Lal next time I pass him in Trafalgar Square!"