," 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."

"He has forgotten us," confessed the children as they went to bed.

"Suppose he has too much to think of," said Ridgie; "he can't remember
everything."

Christine never knew quite how long she had been asleep that night,
before she distinctly heard muffled mutterings from her brother
Ridgie's bed the other side of their little room. Surely Ridgie
couldn't be saying his prayers at this time of night; then Christine
was certain she heard half-smothered sobs.

"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."

Christine sat up in bed.

"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.