Whittingtons, would ever after write the rubbishy Pantomimes in
which she appeared every Christmas season, train up your children to be
Pantaloons and Harlequins, and have the audacity to appeal to me to
keep the family after having christened the eldest child after me.
There is not one single lady," continued the Lord Mayor, as he mopped
the perspiration from his face, "from here to Aberdeen, and back to
Liverpool and Manchester, who has ever played Dick Whittington that I
have not treated to either port wine or champagne (for those were the
refreshments they all seemed to favour most) in the hope of finding
you; I have spent more than ten times the reputed worth of that Dick
Whittington inkstand, in railway fares and buying stalls and
programmes. Yet the worst of all to relate is, that when Mum saw the
programmes underlined upon my return, she accused me of being enamoured
of these extraordinary ladies who stalked the stage in the most
indescribable costumes, accompanied by cats. My boy, I know every
ridiculous speech, every stupid gag spoken by every Lord Mayor in all
those Pantomimes by heart, and the one dread of my life is that I shall
one day come out with some of it in one of my speeches at either the
Guildhall or the Mansion House."

The Writer lay back in his chair and roared with laughter.

"Poor old Dad, I had no idea you were undergoing such an awful penance!"

"You think it funny, do you?" asked the Lord Mayor indignantly.

"I think it is the funniest thing I have ever heard, but I am sure that
all the blame rests with Lal for playing us such a trick."

"Humph! Well, Mum didn't think so, and every time Christmas came there
was a coldness between us. Perhaps she will be convinced when I take
her this inkstand and explain what it is," wound up Sir Simon
triumphantly; "she will believe in Lal then, and believe in me at the
same time."

Some two hours later Ridgwell and Christine, having viewed the Lord
Mayor in his state robes, were safely despatched home in a carriage
with the Writer's housekeeper in charge, but not before old Sir Simon
had promised to send one of his state coaches, attended by servants in
livery, to fetch them to the Mansion House Children's Ball.

Upon taking his departure, Ridgwell had inquired most particularly if
the state coach would drive up to their door for them. The Lord Mayor
assured him that this would be the case.

"I believe," declared Ridgwell, as he said good-by