all my
books was published this morning, and so it is all doubtless intended
to form part of to-day's story; and, by the way, so is to-day's tea."

* * * * *

"Ridgwell, would you ring the bell for the housekeeper? I have ordered
all the sort of cakes you and Christine like best."

"I think it is a more wonderful story than Dick Whittington's,"
commented Ridgwell, as he rang the bell; "but before we have tea, we do
so want to see the little china Dick Whittington which made all your
story come true, and which is worth such a lot of money."

"You shall both see him presently, but at the present moment Dick
Whittington is safely packed up; he is going to be given away this
evening with a copy of my new book."

"Given away?" echoed the children blankly.

The Writer nodded.

"I can't make out how you can bear to part with it," suggested
Ridgwell; "I know I would never give it away. Who is it for?"

"You will both see presently; and really, you know, if you come to
consider it, it is not of any use giving anybody something one does not
care for, for that is not a gift at all."

"It seems jolly hard to part with the one thing you like best,"
observed Ridgwell.

The Writer laughed. "Ah! Ridgwell, that is the only kind of gift
worth giving in the world."

CHAPTER VII

THE LION MAKES HIS SIGN

Tea was finished, the remains of it were cleared away, and the heavy
curtains drawn over the big windows overlooking Trafalgar Square.
Having turned on all the electric lights he could find, the Writer led
Ridgwell and Christine by either hand towards the door.

"The Lord Mayor has arrived," he whispered, "I can hear him coming up
the stairs. Now as he comes into the door let us all bow down with a
low curtsey, and say, 'Welcome, Sir Simon Gold, Lord Mayor of London.'"

"Bless him, he is still puffing up the stairs," whispered the Writer,
"so we shall have time to rehearse it once before he gets here. Now
then, all together," urged the Writer. "That's fine; why, you children
make obeisance better than I do, but of course I was forgetting you had
both been to the Pleasant-Faced Lion's party. That must, of course,
have been an education in itself. Now then, get ready."

Outside somebody who was puffing and panting somewhat heavily could be
heard exclaiming between these exertions in a cheery voice: "Good
gracious me, why ever does the boy live in such a place? These stairs
will