as something
like a smile upon St. George's face, and he soon understood the reason
of it. St. George had found out his adversary's weak spot.

The Griffin advancing with a rush upon his hind legs, with his front
claws doubled up reaching high over St. George to pull him down, was
brought to a sudden standstill.

There was a rapid sound of "Whack! whack! whack! whack!" four times.

St. George had hit the Griffin with the flat of his sword upon the most
tender part of the Griffin's claws. The Griffin's mouth trembled.

"Whack! whack! whack! whack!" came four more swashing blows, whilst the
Griffin hesitated. Then the Griffin broke down completely, and wept
aloud bitterly.

"He's broken my knuckles," sobbed the Griffin.

"Do you give in?" asked the Lion.

"Oh yes," sobbed the Griffin. "Oh! my poor paws."

"Shall he chase you round the arena?" demanded the Lion.

"No," whimpered the Griffin; "I'll go home quietly."

Thereupon King Richard raised his sword and saluted to indicate that
the fight was over, and followed by King Charles, who still swerved
slightly to one side in his saddle, the two Kings rode out of the
Square.

"Shake hands?" asked St. George of the Griffin, before he departed.

The Griffin shook his head dolefully instead, whilst great tears
coursed down his cheeks.

"Oh no," sniffed the Griffin, "I don't think I shall ever shake hands
again."

When everybody had gone, the Griffin slowly hobbled to his feet, and
moving towards home, half sobbed and half sang in a way that was
intensely comic--

"Oh! Temple Bar, Oh! Temple Bar,
With broken knuckles you seem so far.
And all my claws are broken too;
Oh! Temple Bar, what shall I do?
To _hit_ me with a sword held flat,
'Twas grim of George to think of that."

"Now you have seen the tournament," observed the Lion to Ridgwell, "I
suppose you will have to get home somehow."

"Yes, please, Lal."

"And of course," said the Pleasant-Faced Lion, "you will want to come
again."

"Rather," laughed Ridgwell.

"Well, to-morrow night there is a very different sort of entertainment.
I and the Statue folk are going to give an evening party, the grandest
you have ever seen, or will ever be likely to see."

"Oh, Lal, can I come and bring Christine?"

"Who is Christine?" inquired the Lion, cautiously; "you know we cannot
admit everybody."

"Christine is my little sister. At least," added Ridgwell, "Christine
is older than I am