"AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND\n\n\nBy George Mac Donald\n\nAuthor of \"Dealings with Fairies,\" \"Ranald Bannerman,\" etc., etc.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I. THE HAY-LOFT\n\n\nI HAVE been asked to tell you about the back of the north wind. An old\nGreek writer mentions a people who lived there, and were so comfortable\nthat they could not bear it any longer, and drowned themselves. My\nstory is not the same as his. I do not think Herodotus had got the right\naccount of the place. I am going to tell you how it fared with a boy who\nwent there.\n\nHe lived in a low room over a coach-house; and that was not by any means\nat the back of the north wind, as his mother very well knew. For one\nside of the room was built only of boards, and the boards were so old\nthat you might run a penknife through into the north wind. And then let\nthem settle between them which was the sharper! I know that when you\npulled it out again the wind would be after it like a cat after a mouse,\nand you would know soon enough you were not at the back of the north\nwind. Still, this room was not very cold, except when the north wind\nblew stronger than usual: the room I have to do with now was always\ncold, except in summer, when the sun took the matter into his own hands.\nIndeed, I am not sure whether I ought to call it a room at all; for it\nwas just a loft where they kept hay and straw and oats for the horses.\n\nAnd when little Diamond--but stop: I must tell you that his father, who\nwas a coachman, had named him after a favourite horse, and his mother\nhad had no objection:--when little Diamond, then, lay there in bed, he\ncould hear the horses under him munching away in the dark, or moving\nsleepily in their dreams. For Diamond's father had built him a bed in\nthe loft with boards all round it, because they had so little room in\ntheir own end over the coach-house; and Diamond's father put old Diamond\nin the stall under the bed, because he was a quiet horse, and did not\ngo to sleep standing, but lay down like a reasonable creature. But,\nalthough he was a surprisingly reasonable creature, yet, when young\nDiamond woke in the middle of the night, and felt the bed shaking in the\nblasts of the north wind, he could not help wondering whether, if the\nwind should blow the house down, and he were to fall through into\nthe manger, old Diamond mightn't eat him up before he knew him in his\nnight-gown. And although old Diamond was very quiet all night long, yet\nwhen he woke he got up like an earthquake, and then young Diamond knew\nwhat o'clock it was, or at least what was to be done next, which was--to\ngo to sleep again as fast as he could.\n\nThere was hay at his feet and hay at his head, piled up in great trusses\nto the very roof. Indeed it was sometimes only through a little lane\nwith several turnings, which looked as if it had been sawn out for him,\nthat he could reach his bed at all. For the stock of hay was, of course,\nalways in a state either of slow ebb or of sudden flow. Sometimes the\nwhole space of the loft, with the little panes in the roof for the\nstars to look in, would lie open before his open eyes as he lay in bed;\nsometimes a yellow wall of sweet-smelling fibres closed up his view at\nthe distance of half a yard. Sometimes, when his mother had undressed\nhim in her room, and told him to trot to bed by himself, he would\ncreep into the heart of the hay, and lie there thinking how cold it was\noutside in the wind, and how warm it was inside there in his bed, and\nhow he could go to it when he pleased, only he wouldn't just yet; he\nwould get a little colder first. And ever as he grew colder, his bed\nwould grow warmer, till at last he would scramble out of the hay, shoot\nlike an arrow into his bed, cover himself up, and snuggle down, thinking\nwhat a happy boy he was. He had not the least idea that the wind got in\nat a chink in the wall, and blew about him all night. For the back of\nhis bed was only of boards an inch thick, and on the other side of them\nwas the north wind.\n\nNow, as I have already said, these boards were soft and crumbly. To be\nsure, they were tarred on the outside, yet in many places they were more\nlike tinder than timber. Hence it happened that the soft part having\nworn away from about it, little Diamond found one night, after he lay\ndown, that a knot had come out of one of them, and that the wind was\nblowing in upon him in a cold and rather imperious fashion. Now he had\nno fancy for leaving things wrong that might be set right; so he jumped\nout of bed again, got a little strike of hay, twisted it up, folded it\nin the middle, and, having thus made it into a cork, stuck it into the\nhole in the wall. But the wind began to blow loud and angrily, and, as\nDiamond was falling asleep, out blew his cork and hit him on the\nnose, just hard enough to wake him up quite, and let him hear the wind\nwhistling shrill in the hole. He searched for his hay-cork, found it,\nstuck it in harder, and was just dropping off once more, when, pop! with\nan angry whistle behind it, the cork struck him again, this time on the\ncheek. Up he rose once more, made a fresh stopple of hay, and corked the\nhole severely. But he was hardly down again before--pop! it came on his\nforehead. He gave it up, drew the clothes above his head, and was soon\nfast asleep.\n\nAlthough the next day was very stormy, Diamond forgot all about the\nhole, for he was busy making a cave by the side of his mother's fire\nwith a broken chair, a three-legged stool, and a blanket, and then\nsitting in it. His mother, however, discovered it, and pasted a bit of\nbrown paper over it, so that, when Diamond had snuggled down the next\nnight, he had no occasion to think of it.\n\nPresently, however, he lifted his head and listened. Who could that be\ntalking to him? The wind was rising again, and getting very loud, and\nfull of rushes and whistles. He was sure some one was talking--and very\nnear him, too, it was. But he was not frightened, for he had not yet\nlearned how to be; so he sat up and hearkened. At last the voice, which,\nthough quite gentle, sounded a little angry, appeared to come from the\nback of the bed. He crept nearer to it, and laid his ear against the\nwall. Then he heard nothing but the wind, which sounded very loud\nindeed. The moment, however, that he moved his head from the wall, he\nheard the voice again, close to his ear. He felt about with his hand,\nand came upon the piece of paper his mother had pasted over the\nhole. Against this he laid his ear, and then he heard the voice quite\ndistinctly. There was, in fact, a little corner of the paper loose, and\nthrough that, as from a mouth in the wall, the voice came.\n\n\"What do you mean, little boy--closing up my window?\"\n\n\"What window?\" asked Diamond.\n\n\"You stuffed hay into it three times last night. I had to blow it out\nagain three times.\"\n\n\"You can't mean this little hole! It isn't a window; it's a hole in my\nbed.\"\n\n\"I did not say it was a window: I said it was my window.\"\n\n\"But it can't be a window, because windows are holes to see out of.\"\n\n\"Well, that's just what I made this window for.\"\n\n\"But you are outside: you can't want a window.\"\n\n\"You are quite mistaken. Windows are to see out of, you say. Well, I'm\nin my house, and I want windows to see out of it.\"\n\n\"But you've made a window into my bed.\"\n\n\"Well, your mother has got three windows into my dancing room, and you\nhave three into my garret.\"\n\n\"But I heard father say, when my mother wanted him to make a window\nthrough the wall, that it was against the law, for it would look into\nMr. Dyves's garden.\"\n\nThe voice laughed.\n\n\"The law would have some trouble to catch me!\" it said.\n\n\"But if it's not right, you know,\" said Diamond, \"that's no matter. You\nshouldn't do it.\"\n\n\"I am so tall I am above that law,\" said the voice.\n\n\"You must have a tall house, then,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"Yes; a tall house: the clouds are inside it.\"\n\n\"Dear me!\" said Diamond, and thought a minute. \"I think, then, you can\nhardly expect me to keep a window in my bed for you. Why don't you make\na window into Mr. Dyves's bed?\"\n\n\"Nobody makes a window into an ash-pit,\" said the voice, rather sadly.\n\"I like to see nice things out of my windows.\"\n\n\"But he must have a nicer bed than I have, though mine is very nice--so\nnice that I couldn't wish a better.\"\n\n\"It's not the bed I care about: it's what is in it.--But you just open\nthat window.\"\n\n\"Well, mother says I shouldn't be disobliging; but it's rather hard. You\nsee the north wind will blow right in my face if I do.\"\n\n\"I am the North Wind.\"\n\n\"O-o-oh!\" said Diamond, thoughtfully. \"Then will you promise not to blow\non my face if I open your window?\"\n\n\"I can't promise that.\"\n\n\"But you'll give me the toothache. Mother's got it already.\"\n\n\"But what's to become of me without a window?\"\n\n\"I'm sure I don't know. All I say is, it will be worse for me than for\nyou.\"\n\n\"No; it will not. You shall not be the worse for it--I promise you that.\nYou will be much the better for it. Just you believe what I say, and do\nas I tell you.\"\n\n\"Well, I can pull the clothes over my head,\" said Diamond, and feeling\nwith his little sharp nails, he got hold of the open edge of the paper\nand tore it off at once.\n\nIn came a long whistling spear of cold, and struck his little naked\nchest. He scrambled and tumbled in under the bedclothes, and covered\nhimself up: there was no paper now between him and the voice, and he\nfelt a little--not frightened exactly--I told you he had not learned\nthat yet--but rather queer; for what a strange person this North Wind\nmust be that lived in the great house--\"called Out-of-Doors, I suppose,\"\nthought Diamond--and made windows into people's beds! But the voice\nbegan again; and he could hear it quite plainly, even with his head\nunder the bed-clothes. It was a still more gentle voice now, although\nsix times as large and loud as it had been, and he thought it sounded a\nlittle like his mother's.\n\n\"What is your name, little boy?\" it asked.\n\n\"Diamond,\" answered Diamond, under the bed-clothes.\n\n\"What a funny name!\"\n\n\"It's a very nice name,\" returned its owner.\n\n\"I don't know that,\" said the voice.\n\n\"Well, I do,\" retorted Diamond, a little rudely.\n\n\"Do you know to whom you are speaking!\"\n\n\"No,\" said Diamond.\n\nAnd indeed he did not. For to know a person's name is not always to know\nthe person's self.\n\n\"Then I must not be angry with you.--You had better look and see,\nthough.\"\n\n\"Diamond is a very pretty name,\" persisted the boy, vexed that it should\nnot give satisfaction.\n\n\"Diamond is a useless thing rather,\" said the voice.\n\n\"That's not true. Diamond is very nice--as big as two--and so quiet all\nnight! And doesn't he make a jolly row in the morning, getting upon his\nfour great legs! It's like thunder.\"\n\n\"You don't seem to know what a diamond is.\"\n\n\"Oh, don't I just! Diamond is a great and good horse; and he sleeps\nright under me. He is old Diamond, and I am young Diamond; or, if you\nlike it better, for you're very particular, Mr. North Wind, he's big\nDiamond, and I'm little Diamond; and I don't know which of us my father\nlikes best.\"\n\nA beautiful laugh, large but very soft and musical, sounded somewhere\nbeside him, but Diamond kept his head under the clothes.\n\n\"I'm not Mr. North Wind,\" said the voice.\n\n\"You told me that you were the North Wind,\" insisted Diamond.\n\n\"I did not say Mister North Wind,\" said the voice.\n\n\"Well, then, I do; for mother tells me I ought to be polite.\"\n\n\"Then let me tell you I don't think it at all polite of you to say\nMister to me.\"\n\n\"Well, I didn't know better. I'm very sorry.\"\n\n\"But you ought to know better.\"\n\n\"I don't know that.\"\n\n\"I do. You can't say it's polite to lie there talking--with your head\nunder the bed-clothes, and never look up to see what kind of person you\nare talking to.--I want you to come out with me.\"\n\n\"I want to go to sleep,\" said Diamond, very nearly crying, for he did\nnot like to be scolded, even when he deserved it.\n\n\"You shall sleep all the better to-morrow night.\"\n\n\"Besides,\" said Diamond, \"you are out in Mr. Dyves's garden, and I can't\nget there. I can only get into our own yard.\"\n\n\"Will you take your head out of the bed-clothes?\" said the voice, just a\nlittle angrily.\n\n\"No!\" answered Diamond, half peevish, half frightened.\n\nThe instant he said the word, a tremendous blast of wind crashed in a\nboard of the wall, and swept the clothes off Diamond. He started up in\nterror. Leaning over him was the large, beautiful, pale face of a woman.\nHer dark eyes looked a little angry, for they had just begun to flash;\nbut a quivering in her sweet upper lip made her look as if she were\ngoing to cry. What was the most strange was that away from her head\nstreamed out her black hair in every direction, so that the darkness in\nthe hay-loft looked as if it were made of her, hair but as Diamond gazed\nat her in speechless amazement, mingled with confidence--for the boy was\nentranced with her mighty beauty--her hair began to gather itself out\nof the darkness, and fell down all about her again, till her face looked\nout of the midst of it like a moon out of a cloud. From her eyes came\nall the light by which Diamond saw her face and her, hair; and that was\nall he did see of her yet. The wind was over and gone.\n\n\"Will you go with me now, you little Diamond? I am sorry I was forced to\nbe so rough with you,\" said the lady.\n\n\"I will; yes, I will,\" answered Diamond, holding out both his arms.\n\"But,\" he added, dropping them, \"how shall I get my clothes? They are in\nmother's room, and the door is locked.\"\n\n\"Oh, never mind your clothes. You will not be cold. I shall take care of\nthat. Nobody is cold with the north wind.\"\n\n\"I thought everybody was,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"That is a great mistake. Most people make it, however. They are cold\nbecause they are not with the north wind, but without it.\"\n\nIf Diamond had been a little older, and had supposed himself a good deal\nwiser, he would have thought the lady was joking. But he was not older,\nand did not fancy himself wiser, and therefore understood her well\nenough. Again he stretched out his arms. The lady's face drew back a\nlittle.\n\n\"Follow me, Diamond,\" she said.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Diamond, only a little ruefully.\n\n\"You're not afraid?\" said the North Wind.\n\n\"No, ma'am; but mother never would let me go without shoes: she never\nsaid anything about clothes, so I dare say she wouldn't mind that.\"\n\n\"I know your mother very well,\" said the lady. \"She is a good woman.\nI have visited her often. I was with her when you were born. I saw her\nlaugh and cry both at once. I love your mother, Diamond.\"\n\n\"How was it you did not know my name, then, ma'am? Please am I to say\nma'am to you, ma'am?\"\n\n\"One question at a time, dear boy. I knew your name quite well, but I\nwanted to hear what you would say for it. Don't you remember that day\nwhen the man was finding fault with your name--how I blew the window\nin?\"\n\n\"Yes, yes,\" answered Diamond, eagerly. \"Our window opens like a door,\nright over the coach-house door. And the wind--you, ma'am--came in, and\nblew the Bible out of the man's hands, and the leaves went all flutter,\nflutter on the floor, and my mother picked it up and gave it back to him\nopen, and there----\"\n\n\"Was your name in the Bible--the sixth stone in the high priest's\nbreastplate.\"\n\n\"Oh!--a stone, was it?\" said Diamond. \"I thought it had been a horse--I\ndid.\"\n\n\"Never mind. A horse is better than a stone any day. Well, you see, I\nknow all about you and your mother.\"\n\n\"Yes. I will go with you.\"\n\n\"Now for the next question: you're not to call me ma'am. You must call\nme just my own name--respectfully, you know--just North Wind.\"\n\n\"Well, please, North Wind, you are so beautiful, I am quite ready to go\nwith you.\"\n\n\"You must not be ready to go with everything beautiful all at once,\nDiamond.\"\n\n\"But what's beautiful can't be bad. You're not bad, North Wind?\"\n\n\"No; I'm not bad. But sometimes beautiful things grow bad by doing\nbad, and it takes some time for their badness to spoil their beauty.\nSo little boys may be mistaken if they go after things because they are\nbeautiful.\"\n\n\"Well, I will go with you because you are beautiful and good, too.\"\n\n\"Ah, but there's another thing, Diamond:--What if I should look ugly\nwithout being bad--look ugly myself because I am making ugly things\nbeautiful?--What then?\"\n\n\"I don't quite understand you, North Wind. You tell me what then.\"\n\n\"Well, I will tell you. If you see me with my face all black, don't be\nfrightened. If you see me flapping wings like a bat's, as big as the\nwhole sky, don't be frightened. If you hear me raging ten times worse\nthan Mrs. Bill, the blacksmith's wife--even if you see me looking in at\npeople's windows like Mrs. Eve Dropper, the gardener's wife--you must\nbelieve that I am doing my work. Nay, Diamond, if I change into a\nserpent or a tiger, you must not let go your hold of me, for my hand\nwill never change in yours if you keep a good hold. If you keep a hold,\nyou will know who I am all the time, even when you look at me and can't\nsee me the least like the North Wind. I may look something very awful.\nDo you understand?\"\n\n\"Quite well,\" said little Diamond.\n\n\"Come along, then,\" said North Wind, and disappeared behind the mountain\nof hay.\n\nDiamond crept out of bed and followed her.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II. THE LAWN\n\n\nWHEN Diamond got round the corner of the hay, for a moment he hesitated.\nThe stair by which he would naturally have gone down to the door was\nat the other side of the loft, and looked very black indeed; for it was\nfull of North Wind's hair, as she descended before him. And just beside\nhim was the ladder going straight down into the stable, up which his\nfather always came to fetch the hay for Diamond's dinner. Through the\nopening in the floor the faint gleam of the-stable lantern was enticing,\nand Diamond thought he would run down that way.\n\nThe stair went close past the loose-box in which Diamond the horse\nlived. When Diamond the boy was half-way down, he remembered that it\nwas of no use to go this way, for the stable-door was locked. But at the\nsame moment there was horse Diamond's great head poked out of his box\non to the ladder, for he knew boy Diamond although he was in his\nnight-gown, and wanted him to pull his ears for him. This Diamond did\nvery gently for a minute or so, and patted and stroked his neck too, and\nkissed the big horse, and had begun to take the bits of straw and hay\nout of his mane, when all at once he recollected that the Lady North\nWind was waiting for him in the yard.\n\n\"Good night, Diamond,\" he said, and darted up the ladder, across the\nloft, and down the stair to the door. But when he got out into the yard,\nthere was no lady.\n\nNow it is always a dreadful thing to think there is somebody and find\nnobody. Children in particular have not made up their minds to it; they\ngenerally cry at nobody, especially when they wake up at night. But it\nwas an especial disappointment to Diamond, for his little heart had been\nbeating with joy: the face of the North Wind was so grand! To have\na lady like that for a friend--with such long hair, too! Why, it was\nlonger than twenty Diamonds' tails! She was gone. And there he stood,\nwith his bare feet on the stones of the paved yard.\n\nIt was a clear night overhead, and the stars were shining. Orion in\nparticular was making the most of his bright belt and golden sword.\nBut the moon was only a poor thin crescent. There was just one great,\njagged, black and gray cloud in the sky, with a steep side to it like a\nprecipice; and the moon was against this side, and looked as if she had\ntumbled off the top of the cloud-hill, and broken herself in rolling\ndown the precipice. She did not seem comfortable, for she was looking\ndown into the deep pit waiting for her. At least that was what Diamond\nthought as he stood for a moment staring at her. But he was quite wrong,\nfor the moon was not afraid, and there was no pit she was going down\ninto, for there were no sides to it, and a pit without sides to it is\nnot a pit at all. Diamond, however, had not been out so late before in\nall his life, and things looked so strange about him!--just as if he had\ngot into Fairyland, of which he knew quite as much as anybody; for his\nmother had no money to buy books to set him wrong on the subject. I have\nseen this world--only sometimes, just now and then, you know--look as\nstrange as ever I saw Fairyland. But I confess that I have not yet seen\nFairyland at its best. I am always going to see it so some time. But if\nyou had been out in the face and not at the back of the North Wind, on a\ncold rather frosty night, and in your night-gown, you would have felt it\nall quite as strange as Diamond did. He cried a little, just a little,\nhe was so disappointed to lose the lady: of course, you, little man,\nwouldn't have done that! But for my part, I don't mind people crying so\nmuch as I mind what they cry about, and how they cry--whether they cry\nquietly like ladies and gentlemen, or go shrieking like vulgar emperors,\nor ill-natured cooks; for all emperors are not gentlemen, and all cooks\nare not ladies--nor all queens and princesses for that matter, either.\n\nBut it can't be denied that a little gentle crying does one good. It did\nDiamond good; for as soon as it was over he was a brave boy again.\n\n\"She shan't say it was my fault, anyhow!\" said Diamond. \"I daresay she\nis hiding somewhere to see what I will do. I will look for her.\"\n\nSo he went round the end of the stable towards the kitchen-garden. But\nthe moment he was clear of the shelter of the stable, sharp as a knife\ncame the wind against his little chest and his bare legs. Still he\nwould look in the kitchen-garden, and went on. But when he got round the\nweeping-ash that stood in the corner, the wind blew much stronger, and\nit grew stronger and stronger till he could hardly fight against it. And\nit was so cold! All the flashy spikes of the stars seemed to have got\nsomehow into the wind. Then he thought of what the lady had said about\npeople being cold because they were not with the North Wind. How it was\nthat he should have guessed what she meant at that very moment I cannot\ntell, but I have observed that the most wonderful thing in the world is\nhow people come to understand anything. He turned his back to the wind,\nand trotted again towards the yard; whereupon, strange to say, it blew\nso much more gently against his calves than it had blown against his\nshins that he began to feel almost warm by contrast.\n\nYou must not think it was cowardly of Diamond to turn his back to\nthe wind: he did so only because he thought Lady North Wind had said\nsomething like telling him to do so. If she had said to him that he must\nhold his face to it, Diamond would have held his face to it. But the\nmost foolish thing is to fight for no good, and to please nobody.\n\nWell, it was just as if the wind was pushing Diamond along. If he turned\nround, it grew very sharp on his legs especially, and so he thought the\nwind might really be Lady North Wind, though he could not see her, and\nhe had better let her blow him wherever she pleased. So she blew and\nblew, and he went and went, until he found himself standing at a door\nin a wall, which door led from the yard into a little belt of shrubbery,\nflanking Mr. Coleman's house. Mr. Coleman was his father's master,\nand the owner of Diamond. He opened the door, and went through the\nshrubbery, and out into the middle of the lawn, still hoping to find\nNorth Wind. The soft grass was very pleasant to his bare feet, and felt\nwarm after the stones of the yard; but the lady was nowhere to be seen.\nThen he began to think that after all he must have done wrong, and she\nwas offended with him for not following close after her, but staying to\ntalk to the horse, which certainly was neither wise nor polite.\n\nThere he stood in the middle of the lawn, the wind blowing his\nnight-gown till it flapped like a loose sail. The stars were very shiny\nover his head; but they did not give light enough to show that the grass\nwas green; and Diamond stood alone in the strange night, which looked\nhalf solid all about him. He began to wonder whether he was in a dream\nor not. It was important to determine this; \"for,\" thought Diamond, \"if\nI am in a dream, I am safe in my bed, and I needn't cry. But if I'm not\nin a dream, I'm out here, and perhaps I had better cry, or, at least,\nI'm not sure whether I can help it.\" He came to the conclusion, however,\nthat, whether he was in a dream or not, there could be no harm in not\ncrying for a little while longer: he could begin whenever he liked.\n\nThe back of Mr. Coleman's house was to the lawn, and one of the\ndrawing-room windows looked out upon it. The ladies had not gone to bed;\nfor the light was still shining in that window. But they had no idea\nthat a little boy was standing on the lawn in his night-gown, or they\nwould have run out in a moment. And as long as he saw that light,\nDiamond could not feel quite lonely. He stood staring, not at the great\nwarrior Orion in the sky, nor yet at the disconsolate, neglected moon\ngoing down in the west, but at the drawing-room window with the light\nshining through its green curtains. He had been in that room once or\ntwice that he could remember at Christmas times; for the Colemans were\nkind people, though they did not care much about children.\n\nAll at once the light went nearly out: he could only see a glimmer of\nthe shape of the window. Then, indeed, he felt that he was left alone.\nIt was so dreadful to be out in the night after everybody was gone\nto bed! That was more than he could bear. He burst out crying in good\nearnest, beginning with a wail like that of the wind when it is waking\nup.\n\nPerhaps you think this was very foolish; for could he not go home to his\nown bed again when he liked? Yes; but it looked dreadful to him to creep\nup that stair again and lie down in his bed again, and know that North\nWind's window was open beside him, and she gone, and he might never see\nher again. He would be just as lonely there as here. Nay, it would be\nmuch worse if he had to think that the window was nothing but a hole in\nthe wall.\n\nAt the very moment when he burst out crying, the old nurse who had grown\nto be one of the family, for she had not gone away when Miss Coleman did\nnot want any more nursing, came to the back door, which was of glass, to\nclose the shutters. She thought she heard a cry, and, peering out with a\nhand on each side of her eyes like Diamond's blinkers, she saw something\nwhite on the lawn. Too old and too wise to be frightened, she opened the\ndoor, and went straight towards the white thing to see what it was. And\nwhen Diamond saw her coming he was not frightened either, though\nMrs. Crump was a little cross sometimes; for there is a good kind\nof crossness that is only disagreeable, and there is a bad kind of\ncrossness that is very nasty indeed. So she came up with her neck\nstretched out, and her head at the end of it, and her eyes foremost of\nall, like a snail's, peering into the night to see what it could be that\nwent on glimmering white before her. When she did see, she made a\ngreat exclamation, and threw up her hands. Then without a word, for she\nthought Diamond was walking in his sleep, she caught hold of him, and\nled him towards the house. He made no objection, for he was just in\nthe mood to be grateful for notice of any sort, and Mrs. Crump led him\nstraight into the drawing-room.\n\nNow, from the neglect of the new housemaid, the fire in Miss Coleman's\nbedroom had gone out, and her mother had told her to brush her hair by\nthe drawing-room fire--a disorderly proceeding which a mother's wish\ncould justify. The young lady was very lovely, though not nearly so\nbeautiful as North Wind; and her hair was extremely long, for it came\ndown to her knees--though that was nothing at all to North Wind's hair.\nYet when she looked round, with her hair all about her, as Diamond\nentered, he thought for one moment that it was North Wind, and, pulling\nhis hand from Mrs. Crump's, he stretched out his arms and ran towards\nMiss Coleman. She was so pleased that she threw down her brush, and\nalmost knelt on the floor to receive him in her arms. He saw the next\nmoment that she was not Lady North Wind, but she looked so like her he\ncould not help running into her arms and bursting into tears afresh.\nMrs. Crump said the poor child had walked out in his sleep, and Diamond\nthought she ought to know, and did not contradict her for anything he\nknew, it might be so indeed. He let them talk on about him, and said\nnothing; and when, after their astonishment was over, and Miss Coleman\nhad given him a sponge-cake, it was decreed that Mrs. Crump should take\nhim to his mother, he was quite satisfied.\n\nHis mother had to get out of bed to open the door when Mrs. Crump\nknocked. She was indeed surprised to see her, boy; and having taken\nhim in her arms and carried him to his bed, returned and had a long\nconfabulation with Mrs. Crump, for they were still talking when Diamond\nfell fast asleep, and could hear them no longer.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III. OLD DIAMOND\n\n\nDIAMOND woke very early in the morning, and thought what a curious dream\nhe had had. But the memory grew brighter and brighter in his head, until\nit did not look altogether like a dream, and he began to doubt whether\nhe had not really been abroad in the wind last night. He came to the\nconclusion that, if he had really been brought home to his mother by\nMrs. Crump, she would say something to him about it, and that would\nsettle the matter. Then he got up and dressed himself, but, finding that\nhis father and mother were not yet stirring, he went down the ladder to\nthe stable. There he found that even old Diamond was not awake yet, for\nhe, as well as young Diamond, always got up the moment he woke, and\nnow he was lying as flat as a horse could lie upon his nice trim bed of\nstraw.\n\n\"I'll give old Diamond a surprise,\" thought the boy; and creeping up\nvery softly, before the horse knew, he was astride of his back. Then\nit was young Diamond's turn to have more of a surprise than he had\nexpected; for as with an earthquake, with a rumbling and a rocking\nhither and thither, a sprawling of legs and heaving as of many backs,\nyoung Diamond found himself hoisted up in the air, with both hands\ntwisted in the horse's mane. The next instant old Diamond lashed out\nwith both his hind legs, and giving one cry of terror young Diamond\nfound himself lying on his neck, with his arms as far round it as they\nwould go. But then the horse stood as still as a stone, except that he\nlifted his head gently up to let the boy slip down to his back. For\nwhen he heard young Diamond's cry he knew that there was nothing to\nkick about; for young Diamond was a good boy, and old Diamond was a good\nhorse, and the one was all right on the back of the other.\n\nAs soon as Diamond had got himself comfortable on the saddle place, the\nhorse began pulling at the hay, and the boy began thinking. He had never\nmounted Diamond himself before, and he had never got off him without\nbeing lifted down. So he sat, while the horse ate, wondering how he was\nto reach the ground.\n\nBut while he meditated, his mother woke, and her first thought was to\nsee her boy. She had visited him twice during the night, and found him\nsleeping quietly. Now his bed was empty, and she was frightened.\n\n\"Diamond! Diamond! Where are you, Diamond?\" she called out.\n\nDiamond turned his head where he sat like a knight on his steed in\nenchanted stall, and cried aloud,--\n\n\"Here, mother!\"\n\n\"Where, Diamond?\" she returned.\n\n\"Here, mother, on Diamond's back.\"\n\nShe came running to the ladder, and peeping down, saw him aloft on the\ngreat horse.\n\n\"Come down, Diamond,\" she said.\n\n\"I can't,\" answered Diamond.\n\n\"How did you get up?\" asked his mother.\n\n\"Quite easily,\" answered he; \"but when I got up, Diamond would get up\ntoo, and so here I am.\"\n\nHis mother thought he had been walking in his sleep again, and hurried\ndown the ladder. She did not much like going up to the horse, for she\nhad not been used to horses; but she would have gone into a lion's den,\nnot to say a horse's stall, to help her boy. So she went and lifted him\noff Diamond's back, and felt braver all her life after. She carried him\nin her arms up to her room; but, afraid of frightening him at his own\nsleep-walking, as she supposed it, said nothing about last night. Before\nthe next day was over, Diamond had almost concluded the whole adventure\na dream.\n\nFor a week his mother watched him very carefully--going into the loft\nseveral times a night--as often, in fact, as she woke. Every time she\nfound him fast asleep.\n\nAll that week it was hard weather. The grass showed white in the morning\nwith the hoar-frost which clung like tiny comfits to every blade. And\nas Diamond's shoes were not good, and his mother had not quite saved\nup enough money to get him the new pair she so much wanted for him,\nshe would not let him run out. He played all his games over and over\nindoors, especially that of driving two chairs harnessed to the baby's\ncradle; and if they did not go very fast, they went as fast as could be\nexpected of the best chairs in the world, although one of them had only\nthree legs, and the other only half a back.\n\nAt length his mother brought home his new shoes, and no sooner did she\nfind they fitted him than she told him he might run out in the yard and\namuse himself for an hour.\n\nThe sun was going down when he flew from the door like a bird from its\ncage. All the world was new to him. A great fire of sunset burned on the\ntop of the gate that led from the stables to the house; above the fire\nin the sky lay a large lake of green light, above that a golden cloud,\nand over that the blue of the wintry heavens. And Diamond thought that,\nnext to his own home, he had never seen any place he would like so much\nto live in as that sky. For it is not fine things that make home a nice\nplace, but your mother and your father.\n\nAs he was looking at the lovely colours, the gates were thrown open,\nand there was old Diamond and his friend in the carriage, dancing with\nimpatience to get at their stalls and their oats. And in they came.\nDiamond was not in the least afraid of his father driving over him, but,\ncareful not to spoil the grand show he made with his fine horses and his\nmultitudinous cape, with a red edge to every fold, he slipped out of the\nway and let him dash right on to the stables. To be quite safe he had\nto step into the recess of the door that led from the yard to the\nshrubbery.\n\nAs he stood there he remembered how the wind had driven him to this same\nspot on the night of his dream. And once more he was almost sure that\nit was no dream. At all events, he would go in and see whether things\nlooked at all now as they did then. He opened the door, and passed\nthrough the little belt of shrubbery. Not a flower was to be seen in the\nbeds on the lawn. Even the brave old chrysanthemums and Christmas roses\nhad passed away before the frost. What? Yes! There was one! He ran and\nknelt down to look at it.\n\nIt was a primrose--a dwarfish thing, but perfect in shape--a\nbaby-wonder. As he stooped his face to see it close, a little wind began\nto blow, and two or three long leaves that stood up behind the flower\nshook and waved and quivered, but the primrose lay still in the green\nhollow, looking up at the sky, and not seeming to know that the wind was\nblowing at all. It was just a one eye that the dull black wintry earth\nhad opened to look at the sky with. All at once Diamond thought it was\nsaying its prayers, and he ought not to be staring at it so. He ran to\nthe stable to see his father make Diamond's bed. Then his father took\nhim in his arms, carried him up the ladder, and set him down at the\ntable where they were going to have their tea.\n\n\"Miss is very poorly,\" said Diamond's father. \"Mis'ess has been to\nthe doctor with her to-day, and she looked very glum when she came out\nagain. I was a-watching of them to see what doctor had said.\"\n\n\"And didn't Miss look glum too?\" asked his mother.\n\n\"Not half as glum as Mis'ess,\" returned the coachman. \"You see--\"\n\nBut he lowered his voice, and Diamond could not make out more than a\nword here and there. For Diamond's father was not only one of the finest\nof coachmen to look at, and one of the best of drivers, but one of\nthe most discreet of servants as well. Therefore he did not talk about\nfamily affairs to any one but his wife, whom he had proved better than\nhimself long ago, and was careful that even Diamond should hear nothing\nhe could repeat again concerning master and his family.\n\nIt was bed-time soon, and Diamond went to bed and fell fast asleep.\n\nHe awoke all at once, in the dark.\n\n\"Open the window, Diamond,\" said a voice.\n\nNow Diamond's mother had once more pasted up North Wind's window.\n\n\"Are you North Wind?\" said Diamond: \"I don't hear you blowing.\"\n\n\"No; but you hear me talking. Open the window, for I haven't overmuch\ntime.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" returned Diamond. \"But, please, North Wind, where's the use? You\nleft me all alone last time.\"\n\nHe had got up on his knees, and was busy with his nails once more at the\npaper over the hole in the wall. For now that North Wind spoke again,\nhe remembered all that had taken place before as distinctly as if it had\nhappened only last night.\n\n\"Yes, but that was your fault,\" returned North Wind. \"I had work to do;\nand, besides, a gentleman should never keep a lady waiting.\"\n\n\"But I'm not a gentleman,\" said Diamond, scratching away at the paper.\n\n\"I hope you won't say so ten years after this.\"\n\n\"I'm going to be a coachman, and a coachman is not a gentleman,\"\npersisted Diamond.\n\n\"We call your father a gentleman in our house,\" said North Wind.\n\n\"He doesn't call himself one,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"That's of no consequence: every man ought to be a gentleman, and your\nfather is one.\"\n\nDiamond was so pleased to hear this that he scratched at the paper like\nten mice, and getting hold of the edge of it, tore it off. The next\ninstant a young girl glided across the bed, and stood upon the floor.\n\n\"Oh dear!\" said Diamond, quite dismayed; \"I didn't know--who are you,\nplease?\"\n\n\"I'm North Wind.\"\n\n\"Are you really?\"\n\n\"Yes. Make haste.\"\n\n\"But you're no bigger than me.\"\n\n\"Do you think I care about how big or how little I am? Didn't you see me\nthis evening? I was less then.\"\n\n\"No. Where was you?\"\n\n\"Behind the leaves of the primrose. Didn't you see them blowing?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Make haste, then, if you want to go with me.\"\n\n\"But you are not big enough to take care of me. I think you are only\nMiss North Wind.\"\n\n\"I am big enough to show you the way, anyhow. But if you won't come,\nwhy, you must stay.\"\n\n\"I must dress myself. I didn't mind with a grown lady, but I couldn't go\nwith a little girl in my night-gown.\"\n\n\"Very well. I'm not in such a hurry as I was the other night. Dress\nas fast as you can, and I'll go and shake the primrose leaves till you\ncome.\"\n\n\"Don't hurt it,\" said Diamond.\n\nNorth Wind broke out in a little laugh like the breaking of silver\nbubbles, and was gone in a moment. Diamond saw--for it was a starlit\nnight, and the mass of hay was at a low ebb now--the gleam of something\nvanishing down the stair, and, springing out of bed, dressed himself as\nfast as ever he could. Then he crept out into the yard, through the\ndoor in the wall, and away to the primrose. Behind it stood North\nWind, leaning over it, and looking at the flower as if she had been its\nmother.\n\n\"Come along,\" she said, jumping up and holding out her hand.\n\nDiamond took her hand. It was cold, but so pleasant and full of life, it\nwas better than warm. She led him across the garden. With one bound she\nwas on the top of the wall. Diamond was left at the foot.\n\n\"Stop, stop!\" he cried. \"Please, I can't jump like that.\"\n\n\"You don't try\" said North Wind, who from the top looked down a foot\ntaller than before.\n\n\"Give me your hand again, and I will, try\" said Diamond.\n\nShe reached down, Diamond laid hold of her hand, gave a great spring,\nand stood beside her.\n\n\"This is nice!\" he said.\n\nAnother bound, and they stood in the road by the river. It was full\ntide, and the stars were shining clear in its depths, for it lay still,\nwaiting for the turn to run down again to the sea. They walked along its\nside. But they had not walked far before its surface was covered with\nripples, and the stars had vanished from its bosom.\n\nAnd North Wind was now tall as a full-grown girl. Her hair was flying\nabout her head, and the wind was blowing a breeze down the river. But\nshe turned aside and went up a narrow lane, and as she went her hair\nfell down around her.\n\n\"I have some rather disagreeable work to do to-night,\" she said, \"before\nI get out to sea, and I must set about it at once. The disagreeable work\nmust be looked after first.\"\n\nSo saying, she laid hold of Diamond and began to run, gliding along\nfaster and faster. Diamond kept up with her as well as he could. She\nmade many turnings and windings, apparently because it was not quite\neasy to get him over walls and houses. Once they ran through a hall\nwhere they found back and front doors open. At the foot of the stair\nNorth Wind stood still, and Diamond, hearing a great growl, started in\nterror, and there, instead of North Wind, was a huge wolf by his side.\nHe let go his hold in dismay, and the wolf bounded up the stair. The\nwindows of the house rattled and shook as if guns were firing, and the\nsound of a great fall came from above. Diamond stood with white face\nstaring up at the landing.\n\n\"Surely,\" he thought, \"North Wind can't be eating one of the children!\"\nComing to himself all at once, he rushed after her with his little fist\nclenched. There were ladies in long trains going up and down the stairs,\nand gentlemen in white neckties attending on them, who stared at him,\nbut none of them were of the people of the house, and they said nothing.\nBefore he reached the head of the stair, however, North Wind met him,\ntook him by the hand, and hurried down and out of the house.\n\n\"I hope you haven't eaten a baby, North Wind!\" said Diamond, very\nsolemnly.\n\nNorth Wind laughed merrily, and went tripping on faster. Her grassy robe\nswept and swirled about her steps, and wherever it passed over withered\nleaves, they went fleeing and whirling in spirals, and running on their\nedges like wheels, all about her feet.\n\n\"No,\" she said at last, \"I did not eat a baby. You would not have had\nto ask that foolish question if you had not let go your hold of me. You\nwould have seen how I served a nurse that was calling a child bad names,\nand telling her she was wicked. She had been drinking. I saw an ugly gin\nbottle in a cupboard.\"\n\n\"And you frightened her?\" said Diamond.\n\n\"I believe so!\" answered North Wind laughing merrily. \"I flew at her\nthroat, and she tumbled over on the floor with such a crash that they\nran in. She'll be turned away to-morrow--and quite time, if they knew as\nmuch as I do.\"\n\n\"But didn't you frighten the little one?\"\n\n\"She never saw me. The woman would not have seen me either if she had\nnot been wicked.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said Diamond, dubiously.\n\n\"Why should you see things,\" returned North Wind, \"that you wouldn't\nunderstand or know what to do with? Good people see good things; bad\npeople, bad things.\"\n\n\"Then are you a bad thing?\"\n\n\"No. For you see me, Diamond, dear,\" said the girl, and she looked down\nat him, and Diamond saw the loving eyes of the great lady beaming from\nthe depths of her falling hair.\n\n\"I had to make myself look like a bad thing before she could see me. If\nI had put on any other shape than a wolf's she would not have seen me,\nfor that is what is growing to be her own shape inside of her.\"\n\n\"I don't know what you mean,\" said Diamond, \"but I suppose it's all\nright.\"\n\nThey were now climbing the slope of a grassy ascent. It was Primrose\nHill, in fact, although Diamond had never heard of it. The moment they\nreached the top, North Wind stood and turned her face towards London The\nstars were still shining clear and cold overhead. There was not a cloud\nto be seen. The air was sharp, but Diamond did not find it cold.\n\n\"Now,\" said the lady, \"whatever you do, do not let my hand go. I might\nhave lost you the last time, only I was not in a hurry then: now I am in\na hurry.\"\n\nYet she stood still for a moment.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV. NORTH WIND\n\n\nAND as she stood looking towards London, Diamond saw that she was\ntrembling.\n\n\"Are you cold, North Wind?\" he asked.\n\n\"No, Diamond,\" she answered, looking down upon him with a smile; \"I am\nonly getting ready to sweep one of my rooms. Those careless, greedy,\nuntidy children make it in such a mess.\"\n\nAs she spoke he could have told by her voice, if he had not seen with\nhis eyes, that she was growing larger and larger. Her head went up and\nup towards the stars; and as she grew, still trembling through all her\nbody, her hair also grew--longer and longer, and lifted itself from her\nhead, and went out in black waves. The next moment, however, it fell\nback around her, and she grew less and less till she was only a tall\nwoman. Then she put her hands behind her head, and gathered some of her\nhair, and began weaving and knotting it together. When she had done, she\nbent down her beautiful face close to his, and said--\n\n\"Diamond, I am afraid you would not keep hold of me, and if I were to\ndrop you, I don't know what might happen; so I have been making a place\nfor you in my hair. Come.\"\n\nDiamond held out his arms, for with that grand face looking at him,\nhe believed like a baby. She took him in her hands, threw him over her\nshoulder, and said, \"Get in, Diamond.\"\n\nAnd Diamond parted her hair with his hands, crept between, and feeling\nabout soon found the woven nest. It was just like a pocket, or like\nthe shawl in which gipsy women carry their children. North Wind put her\nhands to her back, felt all about the nest, and finding it safe, said--\n\n\"Are you comfortable, Diamond?\"\n\n\"Yes, indeed,\" answered Diamond.\n\nThe next moment he was rising in the air. North Wind grew towering up to\nthe place of the clouds. Her hair went streaming out from her, till it\nspread like a mist over the stars. She flung herself abroad in space.\n\nDiamond held on by two of the twisted ropes which, parted and\ninterwoven, formed his shelter, for he could not help being a little\nafraid. As soon as he had come to himself, he peeped through the woven\nmeshes, for he did not dare to look over the top of the nest. The earth\nwas rushing past like a river or a sea below him. Trees and water and\ngreen grass hurried away beneath. A great roar of wild animals rose\nas they rushed over the Zoological Gardens, mixed with a chattering of\nmonkeys and a screaming of birds; but it died away in a moment behind\nthem. And now there was nothing but the roofs of houses, sweeping along\nlike a great torrent of stones and rocks. Chimney-pots fell, and tiles\nflew from the roofs; but it looked to him as if they were left behind\nby the roofs and the chimneys as they scudded away. There was a great\nroaring, for the wind was dashing against London like a sea; but at\nNorth Wind's back Diamond, of course, felt nothing of it all. He was in\na perfect calm. He could hear the sound of it, that was all.\n\nBy and by he raised himself and looked over the edge of his nest. There\nwere the houses rushing up and shooting away below him, like a fierce\ntorrent of rocks instead of water. Then he looked up to the sky, but\ncould see no stars; they were hidden by the blinding masses of the\nlady's hair which swept between. He began to wonder whether she would\nhear him if he spoke. He would try.\n\n\"Please, North Wind,\" he said, \"what is that noise?\"\n\nFrom high over his head came the voice of North Wind, answering him,\ngently--\n\n\"The noise of my besom. I am the old woman that sweeps the cobwebs from\nthe sky; only I'm busy with the floor now.\"\n\n\"What makes the houses look as if they were running away?\"\n\n\"I am sweeping so fast over them.\"\n\n\"But, please, North Wind, I knew London was very big, but I didn't know\nit was so big as this. It seems as if we should never get away from it.\"\n\n\"We are going round and round, else we should have left it long ago.\"\n\n\"Is this the way you sweep, North Wind?\"\n\n\"Yes; I go round and round with my great besom.\"\n\n\"Please, would you mind going a little slower, for I want to see the\nstreets?\"\n\n\"You won't see much now.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Because I have nearly swept all the people home.\"\n\n\"Oh! I forgot,\" said Diamond, and was quiet after that, for he did not\nwant to be troublesome.\n\nBut she dropped a little towards the roofs of the houses, and Diamond\ncould see down into the streets. There were very few people about,\nthough. The lamps flickered and flared again, but nobody seemed to want\nthem.\n\nSuddenly Diamond espied a little girl coming along a street. She was\ndreadfully blown by the wind, and a broom she was trailing behind her\nwas very troublesome. It seemed as if the wind had a spite at her--it\nkept worrying her like a wild beast, and tearing at her rags. She was so\nlonely there!\n\n\"Oh! please, North Wind,\" he cried, \"won't you help that little girl?\"\n\n\"No, Diamond; I mustn't leave my work.\"\n\n\"But why shouldn't you be kind to her?\"\n\n\"I am kind to her. I am sweeping the wicked smells away.\"\n\n\"But you're kinder to me, dear North Wind. Why shouldn't you be as kind\nto her as you are to me?\"\n\n\"There are reasons, Diamond. Everybody can't be done to all the same.\nEverybody is not ready for the same thing.\"\n\n\"But I don't see why I should be kinder used than she.\"\n\n\"Do you think nothing's to be done but what you can see, Diamond, you\nsilly! It's all right. Of course you can help her if you like. You've\ngot nothing particular to do at this moment; I have.\"\n\n\"Oh! do let me help her, then. But you won't be able to wait, perhaps?\"\n\n\"No, I can't wait; you must do it yourself. And, mind, the wind will get\na hold of you, too.\"\n\n\"Don't you want me to help her, North Wind?\"\n\n\"Not without having some idea what will happen. If you break down and\ncry, that won't be much of a help to her, and it will make a goose of\nlittle Diamond.\"\n\n\"I want to go,\" said Diamond. \"Only there's just one thing--how am I to\nget home?\"\n\n\"If you're anxious about that, perhaps you had better go with me. I am\nbound to take you home again, if you do.\"\n\n\"There!\" cried Diamond, who was still looking after the little girl.\n\"I'm sure the wind will blow her over, and perhaps kill her. Do let me\ngo.\"\n\nThey had been sweeping more slowly along the line of the street. There\nwas a lull in the roaring.\n\n\"Well, though I cannot promise to take you home,\" said North Wind, as\nshe sank nearer and nearer to the tops of the houses, \"I can promise\nyou it will be all right in the end. You will get home somehow. Have you\nmade up your mind what to do?\"\n\n\"Yes; to help the little girl,\" said Diamond firmly.\n\nThe same moment North Wind dropt into the street and stood, only a tall\nlady, but with her hair flying up over the housetops. She put her hands\nto her back, took Diamond, and set him down in the street. The same\nmoment he was caught in the fierce coils of the blast, and all but blown\naway. North Wind stepped back a step, and at once towered in stature to\nthe height of the houses. A chimney-pot clashed at Diamond's feet. He\nturned in terror, but it was to look for the little girl, and when he\nturned again the lady had vanished, and the wind was roaring along the\nstreet as if it had been the bed of an invisible torrent. The little\ngirl was scudding before the blast, her hair flying too, and behind her\nshe dragged her broom. Her little legs were going as fast as ever they\ncould to keep her from falling. Diamond crept into the shelter of a\ndoorway, thinking to stop her; but she passed him like a bird, crying\ngently and pitifully.\n\n\"Stop! stop! little girl,\" shouted Diamond, starting in pursuit.\n\n\"I can't,\" wailed the girl, \"the wind won't leave go of me.\"\n\nDiamond could run faster than she, and he had no broom. In a few moments\nhe had caught her by the frock, but it tore in his hand, and away went\nthe little girl. So he had to run again, and this time he ran so fast\nthat he got before her, and turning round caught her in his arms, when\ndown they went both together, which made the little girl laugh in the\nmidst of her crying.\n\n\"Where are you going?\" asked Diamond, rubbing the elbow that had stuck\nfarthest out. The arm it belonged to was twined round a lamp-post as he\nstood between the little girl and the wind.\n\n\"Home,\" she said, gasping for breath.\n\n\"Then I will go with you,\" said Diamond.\n\nAnd then they were silent for a while, for the wind blew worse than\never, and they had both to hold on to the lamp-post.\n\n\"Where is your crossing?\" asked the girl at length.\n\n\"I don't sweep,\" answered Diamond.\n\n\"What do you do, then?\" asked she. \"You ain't big enough for most\nthings.\"\n\n\"I don't know what I do do,\" answered he, feeling rather ashamed.\n\"Nothing, I suppose. My father's Mr. Coleman's coachman.\"\n\n\"Have you a father?\" she said, staring at him as if a boy with a father\nwas a natural curiosity.\n\n\"Yes. Haven't you?\" returned Diamond.\n\n\"No; nor mother neither. Old Sal's all I've got.\" And she began to cry\nagain.\n\n\"I wouldn't go to her if she wasn't good to me,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"But you must go somewheres.\"\n\n\"Move on,\" said the voice of a policeman behind them.\n\n\"I told you so,\" said the girl. \"You must go somewheres. They're always\nat it.\"\n\n\"But old Sal doesn't beat you, does she?\"\n\n\"I wish she would.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\" asked Diamond, quite bewildered.\n\n\"She would if she was my mother. But she wouldn't lie abed a-cuddlin' of\nher ugly old bones, and laugh to hear me crying at the door.\"\n\n\"You don't mean she won't let you in to-night?\"\n\n\"It'll be a good chance if she does.\"\n\n\"Why are you out so late, then?\" asked Diamond.\n\n\"My crossing's a long way off at the West End, and I had been indulgin'\nin door-steps and mewses.\"\n\n\"We'd better have a try anyhow,\" said Diamond. \"Come along.\"\n\nAs he spoke Diamond thought he caught a glimpse of North Wind turning a\ncorner in front of them; and when they turned the corner too, they found\nit quiet there, but he saw nothing of the lady.\n\n\"Now you lead me,\" he said, taking her hand, \"and I'll take care of\nyou.\"\n\nThe girl withdrew her hand, but only to dry her eyes with her frock, for\nthe other had enough to do with her broom. She put it in his again, and\nled him, turning after turning, until they stopped at a cellar-door in a\nvery dirty lane. There she knocked.\n\n\"I shouldn't like to live here,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"Oh, yes, you would, if you had nowhere else to go to,\" answered the\ngirl. \"I only wish we may get in.\"\n\n\"I don't want to go in,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"Where do you mean to go, then?\"\n\n\"Home to my home.\"\n\n\"Where's that?\"\n\n\"I don't exactly know.\"\n\n\"Then you're worse off than I am.\"\n\n\"Oh no, for North Wind--\" began Diamond, and stopped, he hardly knew\nwhy.\n\n\"What?\" said the girl, as she held her ear to the door listening.\n\nBut Diamond did not reply. Neither did old Sal.\n\n\"I told you so,\" said the girl. \"She is wide awake hearkening. But we\ndon't get in.\"\n\n\"What will you do, then?\" asked Diamond.\n\n\"Move on,\" she answered.\n\n\"Where?\"\n\n\"Oh, anywheres. Bless you, I'm used to it.\"\n\n\"Hadn't you better come home with me, then?\"\n\n\"That's a good joke, when you don't know where it is. Come on.\"\n\n\"But where?\"\n\n\"Oh, nowheres in particular. Come on.\"\n\nDiamond obeyed. The wind had now fallen considerably. They wandered on\nand on, turning in this direction and that, without any reason for one\nway more than another, until they had got out of the thick of the houses\ninto a waste kind of place. By this time they were both very tired.\nDiamond felt a good deal inclined to cry, and thought he had been very\nsilly to get down from the back of North Wind; not that he would have\nminded it if he had done the girl any good; but he thought he had been\nof no use to her. He was mistaken there, for she was far happier for\nhaving Diamond with her than if she had been wandering about alone. She\ndid not seem so tired as he was.\n\n\"Do let us rest a bit,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"Let's see,\" she answered. \"There's something like a railway there.\nPerhaps there's an open arch.\"\n\nThey went towards it and found one, and, better still, there was an\nempty barrel lying under the arch.\n\n\"Hallo! here we are!\" said the girl. \"A barrel's the jolliest bed\ngoing--on the tramp, I mean. We'll have forty winks, and then go on\nagain.\"\n\nShe crept in, and Diamond crept in beside her. They put their arms round\neach other, and when he began to grow warm, Diamond's courage began to\ncome back.\n\n\"This is jolly!\" he said. \"I'm so glad!\"\n\n\"I don't think so much of it,\" said the girl. \"I'm used to it, I\nsuppose. But I can't think how a kid like you comes to be out all alone\nthis time o' night.\"\n\nShe called him a kid, but she was not really a month older than he was;\nonly she had had to work for her bread, and that so soon makes people\nolder.\n\n\"But I shouldn't have been out so late if I hadn't got down to help\nyou,\" said Diamond. \"North Wind is gone home long ago.\"\n\n\"I think you must ha' got out o' one o' them Hidget Asylms,\" said the\ngirl. \"You said something about the north wind afore that I couldn't get\nthe rights of.\"\n\nSo now, for the sake of his character, Diamond had to tell her the whole\nstory.\n\nShe did not believe a word of it. She said he wasn't such a flat as to\nbelieve all that bosh. But as she spoke there came a great blast of wind\nthrough the arch, and set the barrel rolling. So they made haste to get\nout of it, for they had no notion of being rolled over and over as if\nthey had been packed tight and wouldn't hurt, like a barrel of herrings.\n\n\"I thought we should have had a sleep,\" said Diamond; \"but I can't say\nI'm very sleepy after all. Come, let's go on again.\"\n\nThey wandered on and on, sometimes sitting on a door-step, but always\nturning into lanes or fields when they had a chance.\n\nThey found themselves at last on a rising ground that sloped rather\nsteeply on the other side. It was a waste kind of spot below, bounded by\nan irregular wall, with a few doors in it. Outside lay broken things in\ngeneral, from garden rollers to flower-pots and wine-bottles. But the\nmoment they reached the brow of the rising ground, a gust of wind\nseized them and blew them down hill as fast as they could run. Nor could\nDiamond stop before he went bang against one of the doors in the wall.\nTo his dismay it burst open. When they came to themselves they peeped\nin. It was the back door of a garden.\n\n\"Ah, ah!\" cried Diamond, after staring for a few moments, \"I thought\nso! North Wind takes nobody in! Here I am in master's garden! I tell you\nwhat, little girl, you just bore a hole in old Sal's wall, and put your\nmouth to it, and say, 'Please, North Wind, mayn't I go out with you?'\nand then you'll see what'll come.\"\n\n\"I daresay I shall. But I'm out in the wind too often already to want\nmore of it.\"\n\n\"I said with the North Wind, not in it.\"\n\n\"It's all one.\"\n\n\"It's not all one.\"\n\n\"It is all one.\"\n\n\"But I know best.\"\n\n\"And I know better. I'll box your ears,\" said the girl.\n\nDiamond got very angry. But he remembered that even if she did box his\nears, he musn't box hers again, for she was a girl, and all that boys\nmust do, if girls are rude, is to go away and leave them. So he went in\nat the door.\n\n\"Good-bye, mister\" said the girl.\n\nThis brought Diamond to his senses.\n\n\"I'm sorry I was cross,\" he said. \"Come in, and my mother will give you\nsome breakfast.\"\n\n\"No, thank you. I must be off to my crossing. It's morning now.\"\n\n\"I'm very sorry for you,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"Well, it is a life to be tired of--what with old Sal, and so many holes\nin my shoes.\"\n\n\"I wonder you're so good. I should kill myself.\"\n\n\"Oh, no, you wouldn't! When I think of it, I always want to see what's\ncoming next, and so I always wait till next is over. Well! I suppose\nthere's somebody happy somewheres. But it ain't in them carriages. Oh\nmy! how they do look sometimes--fit to bite your head off! Good-bye!\"\n\nShe ran up the hill and disappeared behind it. Then Diamond shut the\ndoor as he best could, and ran through the kitchen-garden to the stable.\nAnd wasn't he glad to get into his own blessed bed again!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V. THE SUMMER-HOUSE\n\n\nDIAMOND said nothing to his mother about his adventures. He had half a\nnotion that North Wind was a friend of his mother, and that, if she did\nnot know all about it, at least she did not mind his going anywhere with\nthe lady of the wind. At the same time he doubted whether he might not\nappear to be telling stories if he told all, especially as he could\nhardly believe it himself when he thought about it in the middle of the\nday, although when the twilight was once half-way on to night he had no\ndoubt about it, at least for the first few days after he had been with\nher. The girl that swept the crossing had certainly refused to believe\nhim. Besides, he felt sure that North Wind would tell him if he ought to\nspeak.\n\nIt was some time before he saw the lady of the wind again. Indeed\nnothing remarkable took place in Diamond's history until the following\nweek. This was what happened then. Diamond the horse wanted new shoes,\nand Diamond's father took him out of the stable, and was just getting on\nhis back to ride him to the forge, when he saw his little boy standing\nby the pump, and looking at him wistfully. Then the coachman took his\nfoot out of the stirrup, left his hold of the mane and bridle, came\nacross to his boy, lifted him up, and setting him on the horse's back,\ntold him to sit up like a man. He then led away both Diamonds together.\n\nThe boy atop felt not a little tremulous as the great muscles that\nlifted the legs of the horse knotted and relaxed against his legs, and\nhe cowered towards the withers, grasping with his hands the bit of mane\nworn short by the collar; but when his father looked back at him,\nsaying once more, \"Sit up, Diamond,\" he let the mane go and sat up,\nnotwithstanding that the horse, thinking, I suppose, that his master\nhad said to him, \"Come up, Diamond,\" stepped out faster. For both the\nDiamonds were just grandly obedient. And Diamond soon found that, as he\nwas obedient to his father, so the horse was obedient to him. For he had\nnot ridden far before he found courage to reach forward and catch hold\nof the bridle, and when his father, whose hand was upon it, felt the boy\npull it towards him, he looked up and smiled, and, well pleased, let go\nhis hold, and left Diamond to guide Diamond; and the boy soon found that\nhe could do so perfectly. It was a grand thing to be able to guide a\ngreat beast like that. And another discovery he made was that, in order\nto guide the horse, he had in a measure to obey the horse first. If he\ndid not yield his body to the motions of the horse's body, he could not\nguide him; he must fall off.\n\nThe blacksmith lived at some distance, deeper into London. As they\ncrossed the angle of a square, Diamond, who was now quite comfortable\non his living throne, was glancing this way and that in a gentle pride,\nwhen he saw a girl sweeping a crossing scuddingly before a lady. The\nlady was his father's mistress, Mrs. Coleman, and the little girl was\nshe for whose sake he had got off North Wind's back. He drew Diamond's\nbridle in eager anxiety to see whether her outstretched hand would\ngather a penny from Mrs. Coleman. But she had given one at the last\ncrossing, and the hand returned only to grasp its broom. Diamond could\nnot bear it. He had a penny in his pocket, a gift of the same lady the\nday before, and he tumbled off his horse to give it to the girl. He\ntumbled off, I say, for he did tumble when he reached the ground. But he\ngot up in an instant, and ran, searching his pocket as he ran. She\nmade him a pretty courtesy when he offered his treasure, but with a\nbewildered stare. She thought first: \"Then he was on the back of the\nNorth Wind after all!\" but, looking up at the sound of the horse's feet\non the paved crossing, she changed her idea, saying to herself, \"North\nWind is his father's horse! That's the secret of it! Why couldn't he say\nso?\" And she had a mind to refuse the penny. But his smile put it all\nright, and she not only took his penny but put it in her mouth with a\n\"Thank you, mister. Did they wollop you then?\"\n\n\"Oh no!\" answered Diamond. \"They never wollops me.\"\n\n\"Lor!\" said the little girl, and was speechless.\n\nMeantime his father, looking up, and seeing the horse's back bare,\nsuffered a pang of awful dread, but the next moment catching sight of\nhim, took him up and put him on, saying--\n\n\"Don't get off again, Diamond. The horse might have put his foot on\nyou.\"\n\n\"No, father,\" answered the boy, and rode on in majestic safety.\n\nThe summer drew near, warm and splendid. Miss Coleman was a little\nbetter in health, and sat a good deal in the garden. One day she saw\nDiamond peeping through the shrubbery, and called him. He talked to her\nso frankly that she often sent for him after that, and by degrees it\ncame about that he had leave to run in the garden as he pleased. He\nnever touched any of the flowers or blossoms, for he was not like some\nboys who cannot enjoy a thing without pulling it to pieces, and so\npreventing every one from enjoying it after them.\n\nA week even makes such a long time in a child's life, that Diamond had\nbegun once more to feel as if North Wind were a dream of some far-off\nyear.\n\nOne hot evening, he had been sitting with the young mistress, as they\ncalled her, in a little summer-house at the bottom of the lawn--a\nwonderful thing for beauty, the boy thought, for a little window in the\nside of it was made of coloured glass. It grew dusky, and the lady began\nto feel chill, and went in, leaving the boy in the summer-house. He sat\nthere gazing out at a bed of tulips, which, although they had closed for\nthe night, could not go quite asleep for the wind that kept waving\nthem about. All at once he saw a great bumble-bee fly out of one of the\ntulips.\n\n\"There! that is something done,\" said a voice--a gentle, merry, childish\nvoice, but so tiny. \"At last it was. I thought he would have had to stay\nthere all night, poor fellow! I did.\"\n\nDiamond could not tell whether the voice was near or far away, it was so\nsmall and yet so clear. He had never seen a fairy, but he had heard of\nsuch, and he began to look all about for one. And there was the tiniest\ncreature sliding down the stem of the tulip!\n\n\"Are you the fairy that herds the bees?\" he asked, going out of the\nsummer-house, and down on his knees on the green shore of the tulip-bed.\n\n\"I'm not a fairy,\" answered the little creature.\n\n\"How do you know that?\"\n\n\"It would become you better to ask how you are to know it.\"\n\n\"You've just told me.\"\n\n\"Yes. But what's the use of knowing a thing only because you're told\nit?\"\n\n\"Well, how am I to know you are not a fairy? You do look very like one.\"\n\n\"In the first place, fairies are much bigger than you see me.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said Diamond reflectively; \"I thought they were very little.\"\n\n\"But they might be tremendously bigger than I am, and yet not very big.\nWhy, I could be six times the size I am, and not be very huge. Besides,\na fairy can't grow big and little at will, though the nursery-tales do\nsay so: they don't know better. You stupid Diamond! have you never seen\nme before?\"\n\nAnd, as she spoke, a moan of wind bent the tulips almost to the ground,\nand the creature laid her hand on Diamond's shoulder. In a moment he\nknew that it was North Wind.\n\n\"I am very stupid,\" he said; \"but I never saw you so small before, not\neven when you were nursing the primrose.\"\n\n\"Must you see me every size that can be measured before you know me,\nDiamond?\"\n\n\"But how could I think it was you taking care of a great stupid\nbumble-bee?\"\n\n\"The more stupid he was the more need he had to be taken care of. What\nwith sucking honey and trying to open the door, he was nearly dated; and\nwhen it opened in the morning to let the sun see the tulip's heart, what\nwould the sun have thought to find such a stupid thing lying there--with\nwings too?\"\n\n\"But how do you have time to look after bees?\"\n\n\"I don't look after bees. I had this one to look after. It was hard\nwork, though.\"\n\n\"Hard work! Why, you could blow a chimney down, or--or a boy's cap off,\"\nsaid Diamond.\n\n\"Both are easier than to blow a tulip open. But I scarcely know the\ndifference between hard and easy. I am always able for what I have to\ndo. When I see my work, I just rush at it--and it is done. But I mustn't\nchatter. I have got to sink a ship to-night.\"\n\n\"Sink a ship! What! with men in it?\"\n\n\"Yes, and women too.\"\n\n\"How dreadful! I wish you wouldn't talk so.\"\n\n\"It is rather dreadful. But it is my work. I must do it.\"\n\n\"I hope you won't ask me to go with you.\"\n\n\"No, I won't ask you. But you must come for all that.\"\n\n\"I won't then.\"\n\n\"Won't you?\" And North Wind grew a tall lady, and looked him in the\neyes, and Diamond said--\n\n\"Please take me. You cannot be cruel.\"\n\n\"No; I could not be cruel if I would. I can do nothing cruel, although I\noften do what looks like cruel to those who do not know what I really am\ndoing. The people they say I drown, I only carry away to--to--to--well,\nthe back of the North Wind--that is what they used to call it long ago,\nonly I never saw the place.\"\n\n\"How can you carry them there if you never saw it?\"\n\n\"I know the way.\"\n\n\"But how is it you never saw it?\"\n\n\"Because it is behind me.\"\n\n\"But you can look round.\"\n\n\"Not far enough to see my own back. No; I always look before me. In\nfact, I grow quite blind and deaf when I try to see my back. I only mind\nmy work.\"\n\n\"But how does it be your work?\"\n\n\"Ah, that I can't tell you. I only know it is, because when I do it I\nfeel all right, and when I don't I feel all wrong. East Wind says--only\none does not exactly know how much to believe of what she says, for she\nis very naughty sometimes--she says it is all managed by a baby; but\nwhether she is good or naughty when she says that, I don't know. I just\nstick to my work. It is all one to me to let a bee out of a tulip, or to\nsweep the cobwebs from the sky. You would like to go with me to-night?\"\n\n\"I don't want to see a ship sunk.\"\n\n\"But suppose I had to take you?\"\n\n\"Why, then, of course I must go.\"\n\n\"There's a good Diamond.--I think I had better be growing a bit. Only\nyou must go to bed first. I can't take you till you're in bed. That's\nthe law about the children. So I had better go and do something else\nfirst.\"\n\n\"Very well, North Wind,\" said Diamond. \"What are you going to do first,\nif you please?\"\n\n\"I think I may tell you. Jump up on the top of the wall, there.\"\n\n\"I can't.\"\n\n\"Ah! and I can't help you--you haven't been to bed yet, you see. Come\nout to the road with me, just in front of the coach-house, and I will\nshow you.\"\n\nNorth Wind grew very small indeed, so small that she could not have\nblown the dust off a dusty miller, as the Scotch children call a yellow\nauricula. Diamond could not even see the blades of grass move as she\nflitted along by his foot. They left the lawn, went out by the wicket\nin the-coach-house gates, and then crossed the road to the low wall that\nseparated it from the river.\n\n\"You can get up on this wall, Diamond,\" said North Wind.\n\n\"Yes; but my mother has forbidden me.\"\n\n\"Then don't,\" said North Wind.\n\n\"But I can see over,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"Ah! to be sure. I can't.\"\n\nSo saying, North Wind gave a little bound, and stood on the top of the\nwall. She was just about the height a dragon-fly would be, if it stood\non end.\n\n\"You darling!\" said Diamond, seeing what a lovely little toy-woman she\nwas.\n\n\"Don't be impertinent, Master Diamond,\" said North Wind. \"If there's one\nthing makes me more angry than another, it is the way you humans judge\nthings by their size. I am quite as respectable now as I shall be six\nhours after this, when I take an East Indiaman by the royals, twist her\nround, and push her under. You have no right to address me in such a\nfashion.\"\n\nBut as she spoke, the tiny face wore the smile of a great, grand woman.\nShe was only having her own beautiful fun out of Diamond, and true\nwoman's fun never hurts.\n\n\"But look there!\" she resumed. \"Do you see a boat with one man in it--a\ngreen and white boat?\"\n\n\"Yes; quite well.\"\n\n\"That's a poet.\"\n\n\"I thought you said it was a bo-at.\"\n\n\"Stupid pet! Don't you know what a poet is?\"\n\n\"Why, a thing to sail on the water in.\"\n\n\"Well, perhaps you're not so far wrong. Some poets do carry people over\nthe sea. But I have no business to talk so much. The man is a poet.\"\n\n\"The boat is a boat,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"Can't you spell?\" asked North Wind.\n\n\"Not very well.\"\n\n\"So I see. A poet is not a bo-at, as you call it. A poet is a man who is\nglad of something, and tries to make other people glad of it too.\"\n\n\"Ah! now I know. Like the man in the sweety-shop.\"\n\n\"Not very. But I see it is no use. I wasn't sent to tell you, and so I\ncan't tell you. I must be off. Only first just look at the man.\"\n\n\"He's not much of a rower\" said Diamond--\"paddling first with one fin\nand then with the other.\"\n\n\"Now look here!\" said North Wind.\n\nAnd she flashed like a dragon-fly across the water, whose surface\nrippled and puckered as she passed. The next moment the man in the boat\nglanced about him, and bent to his oars. The boat flew over the rippling\nwater. Man and boat and river were awake. The same instant almost, North\nWind perched again upon the river wall.\n\n\"How did you do that?\" asked Diamond.\n\n\"I blew in his face,\" answered North Wind. \"I don't see how that could\ndo it,\" said Diamond. \"I daresay not. And therefore you will say you\ndon't believe it could.\"\n\n\"No, no, dear North Wind. I know you too well not to believe you.\"\n\n\"Well, I blew in his face, and that woke him up.\"\n\n\"But what was the good of it?\"\n\n\"Why! don't you see? Look at him--how he is pulling. I blew the mist out\nof him.\"\n\n\"How was that?\"\n\n\"That is just what I cannot tell you.\"\n\n\"But you did it.\"\n\n\"Yes. I have to do ten thousand things without being able to tell how.\"\n\n\"I don't like that,\" said Diamond.\n\nHe was staring after the boat. Hearing no answer, he looked down to the\nwall.\n\nNorth Wind was gone. Away across the river went a long ripple--what\nsailors call a cat's paw. The man in the boat was putting up a sail. The\nmoon was coming to herself on the edge of a great cloud, and the sail\nbegan to shine white. Diamond rubbed his eyes, and wondered what it was\nall about. Things seemed going on around him, and all to understand\neach other, but he could make nothing of it. So he put his hands in his\npockets, and went in to have his tea. The night was very hot, for the\nwind had fallen again.\n\n\"You don't seem very well to-night, Diamond,\" said his mother.\n\n\"I am quite well, mother,\" returned Diamond, who was only puzzled.\n\n\"I think you had better go to bed,\" she added.\n\n\"Very well, mother,\" he answered.\n\nHe stopped for one moment to look out of the window. Above the moon the\nclouds were going different ways. Somehow or other this troubled him,\nbut, notwithstanding, he was soon fast asleep.\n\nHe woke in the middle of the night and the darkness. A terrible noise\nwas rumbling overhead, like the rolling beat of great drums echoing\nthrough a brazen vault. The roof of the loft in which he lay had no\nceiling; only the tiles were between him and the sky. For a while he\ncould not come quite awake, for the noise kept beating him down, so that\nhis heart was troubled and fluttered painfully. A second peal of thunder\nburst over his head, and almost choked him with fear. Nor did he recover\nuntil the great blast that followed, having torn some tiles off the\nroof, sent a spout of wind down into his bed and over his face, which\nbrought him wide awake, and gave him back his courage. The same moment\nhe heard a mighty yet musical voice calling him.\n\n\"Come up, Diamond,\" it said. \"It's all ready. I'm waiting for you.\"\n\nHe looked out of the bed, and saw a gigantic, powerful, but most lovely\narm--with a hand whose fingers were nothing the less ladylike that they\ncould have strangled a boa-constrictor, or choked a tigress off its\nprey--stretched down through a big hole in the roof. Without a moment's\nhesitation he reached out his tiny one, and laid it in the grand palm\nbefore him.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI. OUT IN THE STORM\n\n\nTHE hand felt its way up his arm, and, grasping it gently and strongly\nabove the elbow, lifted Diamond from the bed. The moment he was through\nthe hole in the roof, all the winds of heaven seemed to lay hold upon\nhim, and buffet him hither and thither. His hair blew one way, his\nnight-gown another, his legs threatened to float from under him, and\nhis head to grow dizzy with the swiftness of the invisible assailant.\nCowering, he clung with the other hand to the huge hand which held his\narm, and fear invaded his heart.\n\n\"Oh, North Wind!\" he murmured, but the words vanished from his lips as\nhe had seen the soap-bubbles that burst too soon vanish from the mouth\nof his pipe. The wind caught them, and they were nowhere. They couldn't\nget out at all, but were torn away and strangled. And yet North Wind\nheard them, and in her answer it seemed to Diamond that just because she\nwas so big and could not help it, and just because her ear and her mouth\nmust seem to him so dreadfully far away, she spoke to him more tenderly\nand graciously than ever before. Her voice was like the bass of a deep\norgan, without the groan in it; like the most delicate of violin tones\nwithout the wail in it; like the most glorious of trumpet-ejaculations\nwithout the defiance in it; like the sound of falling water without\nthe clatter and clash in it: it was like all of them and neither\nof them--all of them without their faults, each of them without its\npeculiarity: after all, it was more like his mother's voice than\nanything else in the world.\n\n\"Diamond, dear,\" she said, \"be a man. What is fearful to you is not the\nleast fearful to me.\"\n\n\"But it can't hurt you,\" murmured Diamond, \"for you're it.\"\n\n\"Then if I'm it, and have you in my arms, how can it hurt you?\"\n\n\"Oh yes! I see,\" whispered Diamond. \"But it looks so dreadful, and it\npushes me about so.\"\n\n\"Yes, it does, my dear. That is what it was sent for.\"\n\nAt the same moment, a peal of thunder which shook Diamond's heart\nagainst the sides of his bosom hurtled out of the heavens: I cannot\nsay out of the sky, for there was no sky. Diamond had not seen the\nlightning, for he had been intent on finding the face of North Wind.\nEvery moment the folds of her garment would sweep across his eyes and\nblind him, but between, he could just persuade himself that he saw great\nglories of woman's eyes looking down through rifts in the mountainous\nclouds over his head.\n\nHe trembled so at the thunder, that his knees failed him, and he sunk\ndown at North Wind's feet, and clasped her round the column of her\nankle. She instantly stooped, lifted him from the roof--up--up into her\nbosom, and held him there, saying, as if to an inconsolable child--\n\n\"Diamond, dear, this will never do.\"\n\n\"Oh yes, it will,\" answered Diamond. \"I am all right now--quite\ncomfortable, I assure you, dear North Wind. If you will only let me stay\nhere, I shall be all right indeed.\"\n\n\"But you will feel the wind here, Diamond.\"\n\n\"I don't mind that a bit, so long as I feel your arms through it,\"\nanswered Diamond, nestling closer to her grand bosom.\n\n\"Brave boy!\" returned North Wind, pressing him closer.\n\n\"No,\" said Diamond, \"I don't see that. It's not courage at all, so long\nas I feel you there.\"\n\n\"But hadn't you better get into my hair? Then you would not feel the\nwind; you will here.\"\n\n\"Ah, but, dear North Wind, you don't know how nice it is to feel your\narms about me. It is a thousand times better to have them and the wind\ntogether, than to have only your hair and the back of your neck and no\nwind at all.\"\n\n\"But it is surely more comfortable there?\"\n\n\"Well, perhaps; but I begin to think there are better things than being\ncomfortable.\"\n\n\"Yes, indeed there are. Well, I will keep you in front of me. You will\nfeel the wind, but not too much. I shall only want one arm to take care\nof you; the other will be quite enough to sink the ship.\"\n\n\"Oh, dear North Wind! how can you talk so?\"\n\n\"My dear boy, I never talk; I always mean what I say.\"\n\n\"Then you do mean to sink the ship with the other hand?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"It's not like you.\"\n\n\"How do you know that?\"\n\n\"Quite easily. Here you are taking care of a poor little boy with one\narm, and there you are sinking a ship with the other. It can't be like\nyou.\"\n\n\"Ah! but which is me? I can't be two mes, you know.\"\n\n\"No. Nobody can be two mes.\"\n\n\"Well, which me is me?\"\n\n\"Now I must think. There looks to be two.\"\n\n\"Yes. That's the very point.--You can't be knowing the thing you don't\nknow, can you?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Which me do you know?\"\n\n\"The kindest, goodest, best me in the world,\" answered Diamond, clinging\nto North Wind.\n\n\"Why am I good to you?\"\n\n\"I don't know.\"\n\n\"Have you ever done anything for me?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Then I must be good to you because I choose to be good to you.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Why should I choose?\"\n\n\"Because--because--because you like.\"\n\n\"Why should I like to be good to you?\"\n\n\"I don't know, except it be because it's good to be good to me.\"\n\n\"That's just it; I am good to you because I like to be good.\"\n\n\"Then why shouldn't you be good to other people as well as to me?\"\n\n\"That's just what I don't know. Why shouldn't I?\"\n\n\"I don't know either. Then why shouldn't you?\"\n\n\"Because I am.\"\n\n\"There it is again,\" said Diamond. \"I don't see that you are. It looks\nquite the other thing.\"\n\n\"Well, but listen to me, Diamond. You know the one me, you say, and that\nis good.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Do you know the other me as well?\"\n\n\"No. I can't. I shouldn't like to.\"\n\n\"There it is. You don't know the other me. You are sure of one of them?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"And you are sure there can't be two mes?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Then the me you don't know must be the same as the me you do\nknow,--else there would be two mes?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Then the other me you don't know must be as kind as the me you do\nknow?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Besides, I tell you that it is so, only it doesn't look like it. That I\nconfess freely. Have you anything more to object?\"\n\n\"No, no, dear North Wind; I am quite satisfied.\"\n\n\"Then I will tell you something you might object. You might say that the\nme you know is like the other me, and that I am cruel all through.\"\n\n\"I know that can't be, because you are so kind.\"\n\n\"But that kindness might be only a pretence for the sake of being more\ncruel afterwards.\"\n\nDiamond clung to her tighter than ever, crying--\n\n\"No, no, dear North Wind; I can't believe that. I don't believe it. I\nwon't believe it. That would kill me. I love you, and you must love me,\nelse how did I come to love you? How could you know how to put on such a\nbeautiful face if you did not love me and the rest? No. You may sink\nas many ships as you like, and I won't say another word. I can't say I\nshall like to see it, you know.\"\n\n\"That's quite another thing,\" said North Wind; and as she spoke she gave\none spring from the roof of the hay-loft, and rushed up into the clouds,\nwith Diamond on her left arm close to her heart. And as if the clouds\nknew she had come, they burst into a fresh jubilation of thunderous\nlight. For a few moments, Diamond seemed to be borne up through the\ndepths of an ocean of dazzling flame; the next, the winds were writhing\naround him like a storm of serpents. For they were in the midst of\nthe clouds and mists, and they of course took the shapes of the wind,\neddying and wreathing and whirling and shooting and dashing about like\ngrey and black water, so that it was as if the wind itself had taken\nshape, and he saw the grey and black wind tossing and raving most madly\nall about him. Now it blinded him by smiting him upon the eyes; now it\ndeafened him by bellowing in his ears; for even when the thunder came he\nknew now that it was the billows of the great ocean of the air dashing\nagainst each other in their haste to fill the hollow scooped out by the\nlightning; now it took his breath quite away by sucking it from his body\nwith the speed of its rush. But he did not mind it. He only gasped first\nand then laughed, for the arm of North Wind was about him, and he was\nleaning against her bosom. It is quite impossible for me to describe\nwhat he saw. Did you ever watch a great wave shoot into a winding\npassage amongst rocks? If you ever did, you would see that the water\nrushed every way at once, some of it even turning back and opposing\nthe rest; greater confusion you might see nowhere except in a crowd of\nfrightened people. Well, the wind was like that, except that it went\nmuch faster, and therefore was much wilder, and twisted and shot and\ncurled and dodged and clashed and raved ten times more madly than\nanything else in creation except human passions. Diamond saw the threads\nof the lady's hair streaking it all. In parts indeed he could not tell\nwhich was hair and which was black storm and vapour. It seemed sometimes\nthat all the great billows of mist-muddy wind were woven out of the\ncrossing lines of North Wind's infinite hair, sweeping in endless\nintertwistings. And Diamond felt as the wind seized on his hair, which\nhis mother kept rather long, as if he too was a part of the storm, and\nsome of its life went out from him. But so sheltered was he by North\nWind's arm and bosom that only at times, in the fiercer onslaught of\nsome curl-billowed eddy, did he recognise for a moment how wild was the\nstorm in which he was carried, nestling in its very core and formative\ncentre.\n\nIt seemed to Diamond likewise that they were motionless in this centre,\nand that all the confusion and fighting went on around them. Flash after\nflash illuminated the fierce chaos, revealing in varied yellow and blue\nand grey and dusky red the vapourous contention; peal after peal of\nthunder tore the infinite waste; but it seemed to Diamond that North\nWind and he were motionless, all but the hair. It was not so. They were\nsweeping with the speed of the wind itself towards the sea.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII. THE CATHEDRAL\n\n\nI MUST not go on describing what cannot be described, for nothing is\nmore wearisome.\n\nBefore they reached the sea, Diamond felt North Wind's hair just\nbeginning to fall about him.\n\n\"Is the storm over, North Wind?\" he called out.\n\n\"No, Diamond. I am only waiting a moment to set you down. You would not\nlike to see the ship sunk, and I am going to give you a place to stop in\ntill I come back for you.\"\n\n\"Oh! thank you,\" said Diamond. \"I shall be sorry to leave you, North\nWind, but I would rather not see the ship go down. And I'm afraid the\npoor people will cry, and I should hear them. Oh, dear!\"\n\n\"There are a good many passengers on board; and to tell the truth,\nDiamond, I don't care about your hearing the cry you speak of. I am\nafraid you would not get it out of your little head again for a long\ntime.\"\n\n\"But how can you bear it then, North Wind? For I am sure you are kind. I\nshall never doubt that again.\"\n\n\"I will tell you how I am able to bear it, Diamond: I am always hearing,\nthrough every noise, through all the noise I am making myself even, the\nsound of a far-off song. I do not exactly know where it is, or what it\nmeans; and I don't hear much of it, only the odour of its music, as it\nwere, flitting across the great billows of the ocean outside this air in\nwhich I make such a storm; but what I do hear is quite enough to make\nme able to bear the cry from the drowning ship. So it would you if you\ncould hear it.\"\n\n\"No, it wouldn't,\" returned Diamond, stoutly. \"For they wouldn't hear\nthe music of the far-away song; and if they did, it wouldn't do them\nany good. You see you and I are not going to be drowned, and so we might\nenjoy it.\"\n\n\"But you have never heard the psalm, and you don't know what it is like.\nSomehow, I can't say how, it tells me that all is right; that it is\ncoming to swallow up all cries.\"\n\n\"But that won't do them any good--the people, I mean,\" persisted\nDiamond.\n\n\"It must. It must,\" said North Wind, hurriedly. \"It wouldn't be the song\nit seems to be if it did not swallow up all their fear and pain too, and\nset them singing it themselves with the rest. I am sure it will. And do\nyou know, ever since I knew I had hair, that is, ever since it began\nto go out and away, that song has been coming nearer and nearer. Only I\nmust say it was some thousand years before I heard it.\"\n\n\"But how can you say it was coming nearer when you did not hear it?\"\nasked doubting little Diamond.\n\n\"Since I began to hear it, I know it is growing louder, therefore I\njudge it was coming nearer and nearer until I did hear it first. I'm not\nso very old, you know--a few thousand years only--and I was quite a baby\nwhen I heard the noise first, but I knew it must come from the voices\nof people ever so much older and wiser than I was. I can't sing at all,\nexcept now and then, and I can never tell what my song is going to be; I\nonly know what it is after I have sung it.--But this will never do. Will\nyou stop here?\"\n\n\"I can't see anywhere to stop,\" said Diamond. \"Your hair is all down\nlike a darkness, and I can't see through it if I knock my eyes into it\never so much.\"\n\n\"Look, then,\" said North Wind; and, with one sweep of her great white\narm, she swept yards deep of darkness like a great curtain from before\nthe face of the boy.\n\nAnd lo! it was a blue night, lit up with stars. Where it did not shine\nwith stars it shimmered with the milk of the stars, except where, just\nopposite to Diamond's face, the grey towers of a cathedral blotted out\neach its own shape of sky and stars.\n\n\"Oh! what's that?\" cried Diamond, struck with a kind of terror, for he\nhad never seen a cathedral, and it rose before him with an awful reality\nin the midst of the wide spaces, conquering emptiness with grandeur.\n\n\"A very good place for you to wait in,\" said North Wind. \"But we shall\ngo in, and you shall judge for yourself.\"\n\nThere was an open door in the middle of one of the towers, leading out\nupon the roof, and through it they passed. Then North Wind set Diamond\non his feet, and he found himself at the top of a stone stair, which\nwent twisting away down into the darkness for only a little light came\nin at the door. It was enough, however, to allow Diamond to see that\nNorth Wind stood beside him. He looked up to find her face, and saw that\nshe was no longer a beautiful giantess, but the tall gracious lady he\nliked best to see. She took his hand, and, giving him the broad part\nof the spiral stair to walk on, led him down a good way; then, opening\nanother little door, led him out upon a narrow gallery that ran all\nround the central part of the church, on the ledges of the windows\nof the clerestory, and through openings in the parts of the wall that\ndivided the windows from each other. It was very narrow, and except when\nthey were passing through the wall, Diamond saw nothing to keep him\nfrom falling into the church. It lay below him like a great silent gulf\nhollowed in stone, and he held his breath for fear as he looked down.\n\n\"What are you trembling for, little Diamond?\" said the lady, as she\nwalked gently along, with her hand held out behind her leading him, for\nthere was not breadth enough for them to walk side by side.\n\n\"I am afraid of falling down there,\" answered Diamond. \"It is so deep\ndown.\"\n\n\"Yes, rather,\" answered North Wind; \"but you were a hundred times higher\na few minutes ago.\"\n\n\"Ah, yes, but somebody's arm was about me then,\" said Diamond, putting\nhis little mouth to the beautiful cold hand that had a hold of his.\n\n\"What a dear little warm mouth you've got!\" said North Wind. \"It is a\npity you should talk nonsense with it. Don't you know I have a hold of\nyou?\"\n\n\"Yes; but I'm walking on my own legs, and they might slip. I can't trust\nmyself so well as your arms.\"\n\n\"But I have a hold of you, I tell you, foolish child.\"\n\n\"Yes, but somehow I can't feel comfortable.\"\n\n\"If you were to fall, and my hold of you were to give way, I should be\ndown after you in a less moment than a lady's watch can tick, and catch\nyou long before you had reached the ground.\"\n\n\"I don't like it though,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"Oh! oh! oh!\" he screamed the next moment, bent double with terror, for\nNorth Wind had let go her hold of his hand, and had vanished, leaving\nhim standing as if rooted to the gallery.\n\nShe left the words, \"Come after me,\" sounding in his ears.\n\nBut move he dared not. In a moment more he would from very terror have\nfallen into the church, but suddenly there came a gentle breath of cool\nwind upon his face, and it kept blowing upon him in little puffs, and at\nevery puff Diamond felt his faintness going away, and his fear with it.\nCourage was reviving in his little heart, and still the cool wafts of\nthe soft wind breathed upon him, and the soft wind was so mighty and\nstrong within its gentleness, that in a minute more Diamond was marching\nalong the narrow ledge as fearless for the time as North Wind herself.\n\nHe walked on and on, with the windows all in a row on one side of him,\nand the great empty nave of the church echoing to every one of his brave\nstrides on the other, until at last he came to a little open door, from\nwhich a broader stair led him down and down and down, till at last all\nat once he found himself in the arms of North Wind, who held him close\nto her, and kissed him on the forehead. Diamond nestled to her, and\nmurmured into her bosom,--\"Why did you leave me, dear North Wind?\"\n\n\"Because I wanted you to walk alone,\" she answered.\n\n\"But it is so much nicer here!\" said Diamond.\n\n\"I daresay; but I couldn't hold a little coward to my heart. It would\nmake me so cold!\"\n\n\"But I wasn't brave of myself,\" said Diamond, whom my older readers will\nhave already discovered to be a true child in this, that he was given to\nmetaphysics. \"It was the wind that blew in my face that made me brave.\nWasn't it now, North Wind?\"\n\n\"Yes: I know that. You had to be taught what courage was. And you\ncouldn't know what it was without feeling it: therefore it was given\nyou. But don't you feel as if you would try to be brave yourself next\ntime?\"\n\n\"Yes, I do. But trying is not much.\"\n\n\"Yes, it is--a very great deal, for it is a beginning. And a beginning\nis the greatest thing of all. To try to be brave is to be brave. The\ncoward who tries to be brave is before the man who is brave because he\nis made so, and never had to try.\"\n\n\"How kind you are, North Wind!\"\n\n\"I am only just. All kindness is but justice. We owe it.\"\n\n\"I don't quite understand that.\"\n\n\"Never mind; you will some day. There is no hurry about understanding it\nnow.\"\n\n\"Who blew the wind on me that made me brave?\"\n\n\"I did.\"\n\n\"I didn't see you.\"\n\n\"Therefore you can believe me.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes; of course. But how was it that such a little breath could be\nso strong?\"\n\n\"That I don't know.\"\n\n\"But you made it strong?\"\n\n\"No: I only blew it. I knew it would make you strong, just as it did the\nman in the boat, you remember. But how my breath has that power I cannot\ntell. It was put into it when I was made. That is all I know. But really\nI must be going about my work.\"\n\n\"Ah! the poor ship! I wish you would stop here, and let the poor ship\ngo.\"\n\n\"That I dare not do. Will you stop here till I come back?\"\n\n\"Yes. You won't be long?\"\n\n\"Not longer than I can help. Trust me, you shall get home before the\nmorning.\"\n\nIn a moment North Wind was gone, and the next Diamond heard a moaning\nabout the church, which grew and grew to a roaring. The storm was up\nagain, and he knew that North Wind's hair was flying.\n\nThe church was dark. Only a little light came through the windows, which\nwere almost all of that precious old stained glass which is so much\nlovelier than the new. But Diamond could not see how beautiful they\nwere, for there was not enough of light in the stars to show the colours\nof them. He could only just distinguish them from the walls, He looked\nup, but could not see the gallery along which he had passed. He could\nonly tell where it was far up by the faint glimmer of the windows of\nthe clerestory, whose sills made part of it. The church grew very lonely\nabout him, and he began to feel like a child whose mother has forsaken\nit. Only he knew that to be left alone is not always to be forsaken.\n\nHe began to feel his way about the place, and for a while went wandering\nup and down. His little footsteps waked little answering echoes in the\ngreat house. It wasn't too big to mind him. It was as if the church knew\nhe was there, and meant to make itself his house. So it went on giving\nback an answer to every step, until at length Diamond thought he should\nlike to say something out loud, and see what the church would answer.\nBut he found he was afraid to speak. He could not utter a word for fear\nof the loneliness. Perhaps it was as well that he did not, for the sound\nof a spoken word would have made him feel the place yet more deserted\nand empty. But he thought he could sing. He was fond of singing, and\nat home he used to sing, to tunes of his own, all the nursery rhymes he\nknew. So he began to try `Hey diddle diddle', but it wouldn't do. Then\nhe tried `Little Boy Blue', but it was no better. Neither would `Sing a\nSong of Sixpence' sing itself at all. Then he tried `Poor old Cockytoo',\nbut he wouldn't do. They all sounded so silly! and he had never thought\nthem silly before. So he was quiet, and listened to the echoes that came\nout of the dark corners in answer to his footsteps.\n\nAt last he gave a great sigh, and said, \"I'm so tired.\" But he did not\nhear the gentle echo that answered from far away over his head, for at\nthe same moment he came against the lowest of a few steps that stretched\nacross the church, and fell down and hurt his arm. He cried a little\nfirst, and then crawled up the steps on his hands and knees. At the top\nhe came to a little bit of carpet, on which he lay down; and there he\nlay staring at the dull window that rose nearly a hundred feet above his\nhead.\n\nNow this was the eastern window of the church, and the moon was at that\nmoment just on the edge of the horizon. The next, she was peeping over\nit. And lo! with the moon, St. John and St. Paul, and the rest of them,\nbegan to dawn in the window in their lovely garments. Diamond did not\nknow that the wonder-working moon was behind, and he thought all the\nlight was coming out of the window itself, and that the good old men\nwere appearing to help him, growing out of the night and the darkness,\nbecause he had hurt his arm, and was very tired and lonely, and North\nWind was so long in coming. So he lay and looked at them backwards over\nhis head, wondering when they would come down or what they would do\nnext. They were very dim, for the moonlight was not strong enough for\nthe colours, and he had enough to do with his eyes trying to make out\ntheir shapes. So his eyes grew tired, and more and more tired, and his\neyelids grew so heavy that they would keep tumbling down over his eyes.\nHe kept lifting them and lifting them, but every time they were heavier\nthan the last. It was no use: they were too much for him. Sometimes\nbefore he had got them half up, down they were again; and at length he\ngave it up quite, and the moment he gave it up, he was fast asleep.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII. THE EAST WINDOW\n\n\nTHAT Diamond had fallen fast asleep is very evident from the strange\nthings he now fancied as taking place. For he thought he heard a sound\nas of whispering up in the great window. He tried to open his eyes, but\nhe could not. And the whispering went on and grew louder and louder,\nuntil he could hear every word that was said. He thought it was the\nApostles talking about him. But he could not open his eyes.\n\n\"And how comes he to be lying there, St. Peter?\" said one.\n\n\"I think I saw him a while ago up in the gallery, under the Nicodemus\nwindow. Perhaps he has fallen down.\n\n\"What do you think, St. Matthew?\"\n\n\"I don't think he could have crept here after falling from such a\nheight. He must have been killed.\"\n\n\"What are we to do with him? We can't leave him lying there. And we\ncould not make him comfortable up here in the window: it's rather\ncrowded already. What do you say, St. Thomas?\"\n\n\"Let's go down and look at him.\"\n\nThere came a rustling, and a chinking, for some time, and then there was\na silence, and Diamond felt somehow that all the Apostles were standing\nround him and looking down on him. And still he could not open his eyes.\n\n\"What is the matter with him, St. Luke?\" asked one.\n\n\"There's nothing the matter with him,\" answered St. Luke, who must\nhave joined the company of the Apostles from the next window, one would\nthink. \"He's in a sound sleep.\"\n\n\"I have it,\" cried another. \"This is one of North Wind's tricks. She\nhas caught him up and dropped him at our door, like a withered leaf or a\nfoundling baby. I don't understand that woman's conduct, I must say. As\nif we hadn't enough to do with our money, without going taking care\nof other people's children! That's not what our forefathers built\ncathedrals for.\"\n\nNow Diamond could not bear to hear such things against North Wind, who,\nhe knew, never played anybody a trick. She was far too busy with her own\nwork for that. He struggled hard to open his eyes, but without success.\n\n\"She should consider that a church is not a place for pranks, not to\nmention that we live in it,\" said another.\n\n\"It certainly is disrespectful of her. But she always is disrespectful.\nWhat right has she to bang at our windows as she has been doing the\nwhole of this night? I daresay there is glass broken somewhere. I know\nmy blue robe is in a dreadful mess with the rain first and the dust\nafter. It will cost me shillings to clean it.\"\n\nThen Diamond knew that they could not be Apostles, talking like this.\nThey could only be the sextons and vergers and such-like, who got up at\nnight, and put on the robes of deans and bishops, and called each other\ngrand names, as the foolish servants he had heard his father tell of\ncall themselves lords and ladies, after their masters and mistresses.\nAnd he was so angry at their daring to abuse North Wind, that he jumped\nup, crying--\"North Wind knows best what she is about. She has a good\nright to blow the cobwebs from your windows, for she was sent to do it.\nShe sweeps them away from grander places, I can tell you, for I've been\nwith her at it.\"\n\nThis was what he began to say, but as he spoke his eyes came wide open,\nand behold, there were neither Apostles nor vergers there--not even a\nwindow with the effigies of holy men in it, but a dark heap of hay all\nabout him, and the little panes in the roof of his loft glimmering blue\nin the light of the morning. Old Diamond was coming awake down below in\nthe stable. In a moment more he was on his feet, and shaking himself so\nthat young Diamond's bed trembled under him.\n\n\"He's grand at shaking himself,\" said Diamond. \"I wish I could shake\nmyself like that. But then I can wash myself, and he can't. What fun\nit would be to see Old Diamond washing his face with his hoofs and iron\nshoes! Wouldn't it be a picture?\"\n\nSo saying, he got up and dressed himself. Then he went out into the\ngarden. There must have been a tremendous wind in the night, for\nalthough all was quiet now, there lay the little summer-house crushed\nto the ground, and over it the great elm-tree, which the wind had broken\nacross, being much decayed in the middle. Diamond almost cried to see\nthe wilderness of green leaves, which used to be so far up in the blue\nair, tossing about in the breeze, and liking it best when the wind blew\nit most, now lying so near the ground, and without any hope of ever\ngetting up into the deep air again.\n\n\"I wonder how old the tree is!\" thought Diamond. \"It must take a long\ntime to get so near the sky as that poor tree was.\"\n\n\"Yes, indeed,\" said a voice beside him, for Diamond had spoken the last\nwords aloud.\n\nDiamond started, and looking around saw a clergyman, a brother of Mrs.\nColeman, who happened to be visiting her. He was a great scholar, and\nwas in the habit of rising early.\n\n\"Who are you, my man?\" he added.\n\n\"Little Diamond,\" answered the boy.\n\n\"Oh! I have heard of you. How do you come to be up so early?\"\n\n\"Because the sham Apostles talked such nonsense, they waked me up.\"\n\nThe clergyman stared. Diamond saw that he had better have held his\ntongue, for he could not explain things.\n\n\"You must have been dreaming, my little man,\" said he. \"Dear! dear!\" he\nwent on, looking at the tree, \"there has been terrible work here. This\nis the north wind's doing. What a pity! I wish we lived at the back of\nit, I'm sure.\"\n\n\"Where is that sir?\" asked Diamond.\n\n\"Away in the Hyperborean regions,\" answered the clergyman, smiling.\n\n\"I never heard of the place,\" returned Diamond.\n\n\"I daresay not,\" answered the clergyman; \"but if this tree had been\nthere now, it would not have been blown down, for there is no wind\nthere.\"\n\n\"But, please, sir, if it had been there,\" said Diamond, \"we should not\nhave had to be sorry for it.\"\n\n\"Certainly not.\"\n\n\"Then we shouldn't have had to be glad for it, either.\"\n\n\"You're quite right, my boy,\" said the clergyman, looking at him very\nkindly, as he turned away to the house, with his eyes bent towards the\nearth. But Diamond thought within himself, \"I will ask North Wind next\ntime I see her to take me to that country. I think she did speak about\nit once before.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX. HOW DIAMOND GOT TO THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND\n\n\nWHEN Diamond went home to breakfast, he found his father and mother\nalready seated at the table. They were both busy with their bread and\nbutter, and Diamond sat himself down in his usual place. His mother\nlooked up at him, and, after watching him for a moment, said:\n\n\"I don't think the boy is looking well, husband.\"\n\n\"Don't you? Well, I don't know. I think he looks pretty bobbish. How do\nyou feel yourself, Diamond, my boy?\"\n\n\"Quite well, thank you, father; at least, I think I've got a little\nheadache.\"\n\n\"There! I told you,\" said his father and mother both at once.\n\n\"The child's very poorly\" added his mother.\n\n\"The child's quite well,\" added his father.\n\nAnd then they both laughed.\n\n\"You see,\" said his mother, \"I've had a letter from my sister at\nSandwich.\"\n\n\"Sleepy old hole!\" said his father.\n\n\"Don't abuse the place; there's good people in it,\" said his mother.\n\n\"Right, old lady,\" returned his father; \"only I don't believe there are\nmore than two pair of carriage-horses in the whole blessed place.\"\n\n\"Well, people can get to heaven without carriages--or coachmen either,\nhusband. Not that I should like to go without my coachman, you know. But\nabout the boy?\"\n\n\"What boy?\"\n\n\"That boy, there, staring at you with his goggle-eyes.\"\n\n\"Have I got goggle-eyes, mother?\" asked Diamond, a little dismayed.\n\n\"Not too goggle,\" said his mother, who was quite proud of her boy's\neyes, only did not want to make him vain.\n\n\"Not too goggle; only you need not stare so.\"\n\n\"Well, what about him?\" said his father.\n\n\"I told you I had got a letter.\"\n\n\"Yes, from your sister; not from Diamond.\"\n\n\"La, husband! you've got out of bed the wrong leg first this morning, I\ndo believe.\"\n\n\"I always get out with both at once,\" said his father, laughing.\n\n\"Well, listen then. His aunt wants the boy to go down and see her.\"\n\n\"And that's why you want to make out that he ain't looking well.\"\n\n\"No more he is. I think he had better go.\"\n\n\"Well, I don't care, if you can find the money,\" said his father.\n\n\"I'll manage that,\" said his mother; and so it was agreed that Diamond\nshould go to Sandwich.\n\nI will not describe the preparations Diamond made. You would have\nthought he had been going on a three months' voyage. Nor will I describe\nthe journey, for our business is now at the place. He was met at the\nstation by his aunt, a cheerful middle-aged woman, and conveyed in\nsafety to the sleepy old town, as his father called it. And no wonder\nthat it was sleepy, for it was nearly dead of old age.\n\nDiamond went about staring with his beautiful goggle-eyes, at the quaint\nold streets, and the shops, and the houses. Everything looked very\nstrange, indeed; for here was a town abandoned by its nurse, the sea,\nlike an old oyster left on the shore till it gaped for weariness. It\nused to be one of the five chief seaports in England, but it began to\nhold itself too high, and the consequence was the sea grew less and less\nintimate with it, gradually drew back, and kept more to itself, till at\nlength it left it high and dry: Sandwich was a seaport no more; the sea\nwent on with its own tide-business a long way off, and forgot it. Of\ncourse it went to sleep, and had no more to do with ships. That's what\ncomes to cities and nations, and boys and girls, who say, \"I can do\nwithout your help. I'm enough for myself.\"\n\nDiamond soon made great friends with an old woman who kept a toyshop,\nfor his mother had given him twopence for pocket-money before he left,\nand he had gone into her shop to spend it, and she got talking to him.\nShe looked very funny, because she had not got any teeth, but Diamond\nliked her, and went often to her shop, although he had nothing to spend\nthere after the twopence was gone.\n\nOne afternoon he had been wandering rather wearily about the streets\nfor some time. It was a hot day, and he felt tired. As he passed the\ntoyshop, he stepped in.\n\n\"Please may I sit down for a minute on this box?\" he said, thinking the\nold woman was somewhere in the shop. But he got no answer, and sat down\nwithout one. Around him were a great many toys of all prices, from a\npenny up to shillings. All at once he heard a gentle whirring somewhere\namongst them. It made him start and look behind him. There were the\nsails of a windmill going round and round almost close to his ear. He\nthought at first it must be one of those toys which are wound up and go\nwith clockwork; but no, it was a common penny toy, with the windmill at\nthe end of a whistle, and when the whistle blows the windmill goes. But\nthe wonder was that there was no one at the whistle end blowing, and\nyet the sails were turning round and round--now faster, now slower, now\nfaster again.\n\n\"What can it mean?\" said Diamond, aloud.\n\n\"It means me,\" said the tiniest voice he had ever heard.\n\n\"Who are you, please?\" asked Diamond.\n\n\"Well, really, I begin to be ashamed of you,\" said the voice. \"I wonder\nhow long it will be before you know me; or how often I might take you in\nbefore you got sharp enough to suspect me. You are as bad as a baby that\ndoesn't know his mother in a new bonnet.\"\n\n\"Not quite so bad as that, dear North Wind,\" said Diamond, \"for I didn't\nsee you at all, and indeed I don't see you yet, although I recognise\nyour voice. Do grow a little, please.\"\n\n\"Not a hair's-breadth,\" said the voice, and it was the smallest voice\nthat ever spoke. \"What are you doing here?\"\n\n\"I am come to see my aunt. But, please, North Wind, why didn't you come\nback for me in the church that night?\"\n\n\"I did. I carried you safe home. All the time you were dreaming about\nthe glass Apostles, you were lying in my arms.\"\n\n\"I'm so glad,\" said Diamond. \"I thought that must be it, only I wanted\nto hear you say so. Did you sink the ship, then?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"And drown everybody?\"\n\n\"Not quite. One boat got away with six or seven men in it.\"\n\n\"How could the boat swim when the ship couldn't?\"\n\n\"Of course I had some trouble with it. I had to contrive a bit, and\nmanage the waves a little. When they're once thoroughly waked up, I have\na good deal of trouble with them sometimes. They're apt to get stupid\nwith tumbling over each other's heads. That's when they're fairly at it.\nHowever, the boat got to a desert island before noon next day.\"\n\n\"And what good will come of that?\"\n\n\"I don't know. I obeyed orders. Good bye.\"\n\n\"Oh! stay, North Wind, do stay!\" cried Diamond, dismayed to see the\nwindmill get slower and slower.\n\n\"What is it, my dear child?\" said North Wind, and the windmill began\nturning again so swiftly that Diamond could scarcely see it. \"What a big\nvoice you've got! and what a noise you do make with it? What is it you\nwant? I have little to do, but that little must be done.\"\n\n\"I want you to take me to the country at the back of the north wind.\"\n\n\"That's not so easy,\" said North Wind, and was silent for so long that\nDiamond thought she was gone indeed. But after he had quite given her\nup, the voice began again.\n\n\"I almost wish old Herodotus had held his tongue about it. Much he knew\nof it!\"\n\n\"Why do you wish that, North Wind?\"\n\n\"Because then that clergyman would never have heard of it, and set you\nwanting to go. But we shall see. We shall see. You must go home now, my\ndear, for you don't seem very well, and I'll see what can be done for\nyou. Don't wait for me. I've got to break a few of old Goody's toys;\nshe's thinking too much of her new stock. Two or three will do. There!\ngo now.\"\n\nDiamond rose, quite sorry, and without a word left the shop, and went\nhome.\n\nIt soon appeared that his mother had been right about him, for that same\nafternoon his head began to ache very much, and he had to go to bed.\n\nHe awoke in the middle of the night. The lattice window of his room had\nblown open, and the curtains of his little bed were swinging about in\nthe wind.\n\n\"If that should be North Wind now!\" thought Diamond.\n\nBut the next moment he heard some one closing the window, and his aunt\ncame to his bedside. She put her hand on his face, and said--\n\n\"How's your head, dear?\"\n\n\"Better, auntie, I think.\"\n\n\"Would you like something to drink?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes! I should, please.\"\n\nSo his aunt gave him some lemonade, for she had been used to nursing\nsick people, and Diamond felt very much refreshed, and laid his head\ndown again to go very fast asleep, as he thought. And so he did, but\nonly to come awake again, as a fresh burst of wind blew the lattice\nopen a second time. The same moment he found himself in a cloud of North\nWind's hair, with her beautiful face, set in it like a moon, bending\nover him.\n\n\"Quick, Diamond!\" she said. \"I have found such a chance!\"\n\n\"But I'm not well,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"I know that, but you will be better for a little fresh air. You shall\nhave plenty of that.\"\n\n\"You want me to go, then?\"\n\n\"Yes, I do. It won't hurt you.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said Diamond; and getting out of the bed-clothes, he jumped\ninto North Wind's arms.\n\n\"We must make haste before your aunt comes,\" said she, as she glided out\nof the open lattice and left it swinging.\n\nThe moment Diamond felt her arms fold around him he began to feel\nbetter. It was a moonless night, and very dark, with glimpses of stars\nwhen the clouds parted.\n\n\"I used to dash the waves about here,\" said North Wind, \"where cows and\nsheep are feeding now; but we shall soon get to them. There they are.\"\n\nAnd Diamond, looking down, saw the white glimmer of breaking water far\nbelow him.\n\n\"You see, Diamond,\" said North Wind, \"it is very difficult for me to\nget you to the back of the north wind, for that country lies in the very\nnorth itself, and of course I can't blow northwards.\"\n\n\"Why not?\" asked Diamond.\n\n\"You little silly!\" said North Wind. \"Don't you see that if I were to\nblow northwards I should be South Wind, and that is as much as to say\nthat one person could be two persons?\"\n\n\"But how can you ever get home at all, then?\"\n\n\"You are quite right--that is my home, though I never get farther than\nthe outer door. I sit on the doorstep, and hear the voices inside. I am\nnobody there, Diamond.\"\n\n\"I'm very sorry.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"That you should be nobody.\"\n\n\"Oh, I don't mind it. Dear little man! you will be very glad some day\nto be nobody yourself. But you can't understand that now, and you had\nbetter not try; for if you do, you will be certain to go fancying some\negregious nonsense, and making yourself miserable about it.\"\n\n\"Then I won't,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"There's a good boy. It will all come in good time.\"\n\n\"But you haven't told me how you get to the doorstep, you know.\"\n\n\"It is easy enough for me. I have only to consent to be nobody, and\nthere I am. I draw into myself and there I am on the doorstep. But you\ncan easily see, or you have less sense than I think, that to drag you,\nyou heavy thing, along with me, would take centuries, and I could not\ngive the time to it.\"\n\n\"Oh, I'm so sorry!\" said Diamond.\n\n\"What for now, pet?\"\n\n\"That I'm so heavy for you. I would be lighter if I could, but I don't\nknow how.\"\n\n\"You silly darling! Why, I could toss you a hundred miles from me if I\nliked. It is only when I am going home that I shall find you heavy.\"\n\n\"Then you are going home with me?\"\n\n\"Of course. Did I not come to fetch you just for that?\"\n\n\"But all this time you must be going southwards.\"\n\n\"Yes. Of course I am.\"\n\n\"How can you be taking me northwards, then?\"\n\n\"A very sensible question. But you shall see. I will get rid of a few of\nthese clouds--only they do come up so fast! It's like trying to blow a\nbrook dry. There! What do you see now?\"\n\n\"I think I see a little boat, away there, down below.\"\n\n\"A little boat, indeed! Well! She's a yacht of two hundred tons; and the\ncaptain of it is a friend of mine; for he is a man of good sense, and\ncan sail his craft well. I've helped him many a time when he little\nthought it. I've heard him grumbling at me, when I was doing the very\nbest I could for him. Why, I've carried him eighty miles a day, again\nand again, right north.\"\n\n\"He must have dodged for that,\" said Diamond, who had been watching the\nvessels, and had seen that they went other ways than the wind blew.\n\n\"Of course he must. But don't you see, it was the best I could do? I\ncouldn't be South Wind. And besides it gave him a share in the business.\nIt is not good at all--mind that, Diamond--to do everything for those\nyou love, and not give them a share in the doing. It's not kind. It's\nmaking too much of yourself, my child. If I had been South Wind, he\nwould only have smoked his pipe all day, and made himself stupid.\"\n\n\"But how could he be a man of sense and grumble at you when you were\ndoing your best for him?\"\n\n\"Oh! you must make allowances,\" said North Wind, \"or you will never do\njustice to anybody.--You do understand, then, that a captain may sail\nnorth----\"\n\n\"In spite of a north wind--yes,\" supplemented Diamond.\n\n\"Now, I do think you must be stupid, my dear\" said North Wind. \"Suppose\nthe north wind did not blow where would he be then?\"\n\n\"Why then the south wind would carry him.\"\n\n\"So you think that when the north wind stops the south wind blows.\nNonsense. If I didn't blow, the captain couldn't sail his eighty miles\na day. No doubt South Wind would carry him faster, but South Wind is\nsitting on her doorstep then, and if I stopped there would be a dead\ncalm. So you are all wrong to say he can sail north in spite of me; he\nsails north by my help, and my help alone. You see that, Diamond?\"\n\n\"Yes, I do, North Wind. I am stupid, but I don't want to be stupid.\"\n\n\"Good boy! I am going to blow you north in that little craft, one of the\nfinest that ever sailed the sea. Here we are, right over it. I shall\nbe blowing against you; you will be sailing against me; and all will be\njust as we want it. The captain won't get on so fast as he would like,\nbut he will get on, and so shall we. I'm just going to put you on board.\nDo you see in front of the tiller--that thing the man is working, now to\none side, now to the other--a round thing like the top of a drum?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"Below that is where they keep their spare sails, and some stores of\nthat sort. I am going to blow that cover off. The same moment I will\ndrop you on deck, and you must tumble in. Don't be afraid, it is of no\ndepth, and you will fall on sail-cloth. You will find it nice and warm\nand dry-only dark; and you will know I am near you by every roll and\npitch of the vessel. Coil yourself up and go to sleep. The yacht shall\nbe my cradle and you shall be my baby.\"\n\n\"Thank you, dear North Wind. I am not a bit afraid,\" said Diamond.\n\nIn a moment they were on a level with the bulwarks, and North Wind sent\nthe hatch of the after-store rattling away over the deck to leeward. The\nnext, Diamond found himself in the dark, for he had tumbled through the\nhole as North Wind had told him, and the cover was replaced over his\nhead. Away he went rolling to leeward, for the wind began all at once to\nblow hard. He heard the call of the captain, and the loud trampling of\nthe men over his head, as they hauled at the main sheet to get the boom\non board that they might take in a reef in the mainsail. Diamond felt\nabout until he had found what seemed the most comfortable place, and\nthere he snuggled down and lay.\n\nHours after hours, a great many of them, went by; and still Diamond\nlay there. He never felt in the least tired or impatient, for a strange\npleasure filled his heart. The straining of the masts, the creaking of\nthe boom, the singing of the ropes, the banging of the blocks as they\nput the vessel about, all fell in with the roaring of the wind above,\nthe surge of the waves past her sides, and the thud with which every now\nand then one would strike her; while through it all Diamond could hear\nthe gurgling, rippling, talking flow of the water against her planks,\nas she slipped through it, lying now on this side, now on that--like a\nsubdued air running through the grand music his North Wind was making\nabout him to keep him from tiring as they sped on towards the country at\nthe back of her doorstep.\n\nHow long this lasted Diamond had no idea. He seemed to fall asleep\nsometimes, only through the sleep he heard the sounds going on. At\nlength the weather seemed to get worse. The confusion and trampling of\nfeet grew more frequent over his head; the vessel lay over more and\nmore on her side, and went roaring through the waves, which banged and\nthumped at her as if in anger. All at once arose a terrible uproar. The\nhatch was blown off; a cold fierce wind swept in upon him; and a long\narm came with it which laid hold of him and lifted him out. The same\nmoment he saw the little vessel far below him righting herself. She had\ntaken in all her sails and lay now tossing on the waves like a sea-bird\nwith folded wings. A short distance to the south lay a much larger\nvessel, with two or three sails set, and towards it North Wind was\ncarrying Diamond. It was a German ship, on its way to the North Pole.\n\n\"That vessel down there will give us a lift now,\" said North Wind; \"and\nafter that I must do the best I can.\"\n\nShe managed to hide him amongst the flags of the big ship, which were\nall snugly stowed away, and on and on they sped towards the north. At\nlength one night she whispered in his ear, \"Come on deck, Diamond;\" and\nhe got up at once and crept on deck. Everything looked very strange.\nHere and there on all sides were huge masses of floating ice, looking\nlike cathedrals, and castles, and crags, while away beyond was a blue\nsea.\n\n\"Is the sun rising or setting?\" asked Diamond.\n\n\"Neither or both, which you please. I can hardly tell which myself. If\nhe is setting now, he will be rising the next moment.\"\n\n\"What a strange light it is!\" said Diamond. \"I have heard that the sun\ndoesn't go to bed all the summer in these parts. Miss Coleman told me\nthat. I suppose he feels very sleepy, and that is why the light he sends\nout looks so like a dream.\"\n\n\"That will account for it well enough for all practical purposes,\" said\nNorth Wind.\n\nSome of the icebergs were drifting northwards; one was passing very near\nthe ship. North Wind seized Diamond, and with a single bound lighted on\none of them--a huge thing, with sharp pinnacles and great clefts. The\nsame instant a wind began to blow from the south. North Wind hurried\nDiamond down the north side of the iceberg, stepping by its jags and\nsplintering; for this berg had never got far enough south to be melted\nand smoothed by the summer sun. She brought him to a cave near the\nwater, where she entered, and, letting Diamond go, sat down as if weary\non a ledge of ice.\n\nDiamond seated himself on the other side, and for a while was enraptured\nwith the colour of the air inside the cave. It was a deep, dazzling,\nlovely blue, deeper than the deepest blue of the sky. The blue seemed to\nbe in constant motion, like the blackness when you press your eyeballs\nwith your fingers, boiling and sparkling. But when he looked across to\nNorth Wind he was frightened; her face was worn and livid.\n\n\"What is the matter with you, dear North Wind?\" he said.\n\n\"Nothing much. I feel very faint. But you mustn't mind it, for I can\nbear it quite well. South Wind always blows me faint. If it were not for\nthe cool of the thick ice between me and her, I should faint altogether.\nIndeed, as it is, I fear I must vanish.\"\n\nDiamond stared at her in terror, for he saw that her form and face were\ngrowing, not small, but transparent, like something dissolving, not in\nwater, but in light. He could see the side of the blue cave through her\nvery heart. And she melted away till all that was left was a pale face,\nlike the moon in the morning, with two great lucid eyes in it.\n\n\"I am going, Diamond,\" she said.\n\n\"Does it hurt you?\" asked Diamond.\n\n\"It's very uncomfortable,\" she answered; \"but I don't mind it, for I\nshall come all right again before long. I thought I should be able to go\nwith you all the way, but I cannot. You must not be frightened though.\nJust go straight on, and you will come all right. You'll find me on the\ndoorstep.\"\n\nAs she spoke, her face too faded quite away, only Diamond thought he\ncould still see her eyes shining through the blue. When he went closer,\nhowever, he found that what he thought her eyes were only two hollows in\nthe ice. North Wind was quite gone; and Diamond would have cried, if he\nhad not trusted her so thoroughly. So he sat still in the blue air of\nthe cavern listening to the wash and ripple of the water all about the\nbase of the iceberg, as it sped on and on into the open sea northwards.\nIt was an excellent craft to go with the current, for there was twice as\nmuch of it below water as above. But a light south wind was blowing too,\nand so it went fast.\n\nAfter a little while Diamond went out and sat on the edge of his\nfloating island, and looked down into the ocean beneath him. The white\nsides of the berg reflected so much light below the water, that he could\nsee far down into the green abyss. Sometimes he fancied he saw the eyes\nof North Wind looking up at him from below, but the fancy never lasted\nbeyond the moment of its birth. And the time passed he did not know how,\nfor he felt as if he were in a dream. When he got tired of the green\nwater, he went into the blue cave; and when he got tired of the blue\ncave he went out and gazed all about him on the blue sea, ever sparkling\nin the sun, which kept wheeling about the sky, never going below the\nhorizon. But he chiefly gazed northwards, to see whether any land were\nappearing. All this time he never wanted to eat. He broke off little\nbits of the berg now and then and sucked them, and he thought them very\nnice.\n\nAt length, one time he came out of his cave, he spied far off on the\nhorizon, a shining peak that rose into the sky like the top of some\ntremendous iceberg; and his vessel was bearing him straight towards\nit. As it went on the peak rose and rose higher and higher above the\nhorizon; and other peaks rose after it, with sharp edges and jagged\nridges connecting them. Diamond thought this must be the place he was\ngoing to; and he was right; for the mountains rose and rose, till he saw\nthe line of the coast at their feet and at length the iceberg drove into\na little bay, all around which were lofty precipices with snow on their\ntops, and streaks of ice down their sides. The berg floated slowly up to\na projecting rock. Diamond stepped on shore, and without looking behind\nhim began to follow a natural path which led windingly towards the top\nof the precipice.\n\nWhen he reached it, he found himself on a broad table of ice,\nalong which he could walk without much difficulty. Before him, at a\nconsiderable distance, rose a lofty ridge of ice, which shot up into\nfantastic pinnacles and towers and battlements. The air was very cold,\nand seemed somehow dead, for there was not the slightest breath of wind.\n\nIn the centre of the ridge before him appeared a gap like the opening\nof a valley. But as he walked towards it, gazing, and wondering whether\nthat could be the way he had to take, he saw that what had appeared a\ngap was the form of a woman seated against the ice front of the ridge,\nleaning forwards with her hands in her lap, and her hair hanging down to\nthe ground.\n\n\"It is North Wind on her doorstep,\" said Diamond joyfully, and hurried\non.\n\nHe soon came up to the place, and there the form sat, like one of\nthe great figures at the door of an Egyptian temple, motionless, with\ndrooping arms and head. Then Diamond grew frightened, because she did\nnot move nor speak. He was sure it was North Wind, but he thought she\nmust be dead at last. Her face was white as the snow, her eyes were\nblue as the air in the ice-cave, and her hair hung down straight, like\nicicles. She had on a greenish robe, like the colour in the hollows of a\nglacier seen from far off.\n\nHe stood up before her, and gazed fearfully into her face for a few\nminutes before he ventured to speak. At length, with a great effort and\na trembling voice, he faltered out--\n\n\"North Wind!\"\n\n\"Well, child?\" said the form, without lifting its head.\n\n\"Are you ill, dear North Wind?\"\n\n\"No. I am waiting.\"\n\n\"What for?\"\n\n\"Till I'm wanted.\"\n\n\"You don't care for me any more,\" said Diamond, almost crying now.\n\n\"Yes I do. Only I can't show it. All my love is down at the bottom of my\nheart. But I feel it bubbling there.\"\n\n\"What do you want me to do next, dear North Wind?\" said Diamond, wishing\nto show his love by being obedient.\n\n\"What do you want to do yourself?\"\n\n\"I want to go into the country at your back.\"\n\n\"Then you must go through me.\"\n\n\"I don't know what you mean.\"\n\n\"I mean just what I say. You must walk on as if I were an open door, and\ngo right through me.\"\n\n\"But that will hurt you.\"\n\n\"Not in the least. It will hurt you, though.\"\n\n\"I don't mind that, if you tell me to do it.\"\n\n\"Do it,\" said North Wind.\n\nDiamond walked towards her instantly. When he reached her knees, he put\nout his hand to lay it on her, but nothing was there save an intense\ncold. He walked on. Then all grew white about him; and the cold stung\nhim like fire. He walked on still, groping through the whiteness. It\nthickened about him. At last, it got into his heart, and he lost all\nsense. I would say that he fainted--only whereas in common faints all\ngrows black about you, he felt swallowed up in whiteness. It was when he\nreached North Wind's heart that he fainted and fell. But as he fell, he\nrolled over the threshold, and it was thus that Diamond got to the back\nof the north wind.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X. AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND\n\n\nI HAVE now come to the most difficult part of my story. And why? Because\nI do not know enough about it. And why should I not know as much about\nthis part as about any other part? For of course I could know nothing\nabout the story except Diamond had told it; and why should not Diamond\ntell about the country at the back of the north wind, as well as about\nhis adventures in getting there? Because, when he came back, he had\nforgotten a great deal, and what he did remember was very hard to tell.\nThings there are so different from things here! The people there do not\nspeak the same language for one thing. Indeed, Diamond insisted that\nthere they do not speak at all. I do not think he was right, but it may\nwell have appeared so to Diamond. The fact is, we have different reports\nof the place from the most trustworthy people. Therefore we are bound\nto believe that it appears somewhat different to different people. All,\nhowever, agree in a general way about it.\n\nI will tell you something of what two very different people have\nreported, both of whom knew more about it, I believe, than Herodotus.\nOne of them speaks from his own experience, for he visited the country;\nthe other from the testimony of a young peasant girl who came back from\nit for a month's visit to her friends. The former was a great Italian\nof noble family, who died more than five hundred years ago; the latter a\nScotch shepherd who died not forty years ago.\n\nThe Italian, then, informs us that he had to enter that country through\na fire so hot that he would have thrown himself into boiling glass to\ncool himself. This was not Diamond's experience, but then Durante--that\nwas the name of the Italian, and it means Lasting, for his books will\nlast as long as there are enough men in the world worthy of having\nthem--Durante was an elderly man, and Diamond was a little boy, and so\ntheir experience must be a little different. The peasant girl, on the\nother hand, fell fast asleep in a wood, and woke in the same country.\n\nIn describing it, Durante says that the ground everywhere smelt sweetly,\nand that a gentle, even-tempered wind, which never blew faster or\nslower, breathed in his face as he went, making all the leaves point one\nway, not so as to disturb the birds in the tops of the trees, but, on\nthe contrary, sounding a bass to their song. He describes also a little\nriver which was so full that its little waves, as it hurried along, bent\nthe grass, full of red and yellow flowers, through which it flowed. He\nsays that the purest stream in the world beside this one would look as\nif it were mixed with something that did not belong to it, even although\nit was flowing ever in the brown shadow of the trees, and neither sun\nnor moon could shine upon it. He seems to imply that it is always the\nmonth of May in that country. It would be out of place to describe here\nthe wonderful sights he saw, for the music of them is in another key\nfrom that of this story, and I shall therefore only add from the account\nof this traveller, that the people there are so free and so just and so\nhealthy, that every one of them has a crown like a king and a mitre like\na priest.\n\nThe peasant girl--Kilmeny was her name--could not report such grand\nthings as Durante, for, as the shepherd says, telling her story as I\ntell Diamond's--\n\n           \"Kilmeny had been she knew not where,\n           And Kilmeny had seen what she could not declare;\n           Kilmeny had been where the cock never crew,\n           Where the rain never fell, and the wind never blew.\n           But it seemed as the harp of the sky had rung,\n           And the airs of heaven played round her tongue,\n           When she spoke of the lovely forms she had seen,\n           And a land where sin had never been;\n           A land of love and a land of light,\n           Withouten sun, or moon, or night;\n           Where the river swayed a living stream,\n           And the light a pure and cloudless beam:\n           The land of vision it would seem,\n           And still an everlasting dream.\"\n\n\nThe last two lines are the shepherd's own remark, and a matter of\nopinion. But it is clear, I think, that Kilmeny must have described\nthe same country as Durante saw, though, not having his experience, she\ncould neither understand nor describe it so well.\n\nNow I must give you such fragments of recollection as Diamond was able\nto bring back with him.\n\nWhen he came to himself after he fell, he found himself at the back of\nthe north wind. North Wind herself was nowhere to be seen. Neither\nwas there a vestige of snow or of ice within sight. The sun too had\nvanished; but that was no matter, for there was plenty of a certain\nstill rayless light. Where it came from he never found out; but he\nthought it belonged to the country itself. Sometimes he thought it came\nout of the flowers, which were very bright, but had no strong colour.\nHe said the river--for all agree that there is a river there--flowed\nnot only through, but over grass: its channel, instead of being rock,\nstones, pebbles, sand, or anything else, was of pure meadow grass, not\nover long. He insisted that if it did not sing tunes in people's ears,\nit sung tunes in their heads, in proof of which I may mention that, in\nthe troubles which followed, Diamond was often heard singing; and when\nasked what he was singing, would answer, \"One of the tunes the river\nat the back of the north wind sung.\" And I may as well say at once that\nDiamond never told these things to any one but--no, I had better not say\nwho it was; but whoever it was told me, and I thought it would be well\nto write them for my child-readers.\n\nHe could not say he was very happy there, for he had neither his father\nnor mother with him, but he felt so still and quiet and patient and\ncontented, that, as far as the mere feeling went, it was something\nbetter than mere happiness. Nothing went wrong at the back of the north\nwind. Neither was anything quite right, he thought. Only everything was\ngoing to be right some day. His account disagreed with that of Durante,\nand agreed with that of Kilmeny, in this, that he protested there was no\nwind there at all. I fancy he missed it. At all events we could not do\nwithout wind. It all depends on how big our lungs are whether the wind\nis too strong for us or not.\n\nWhen the person he told about it asked him whether he saw anybody he\nknew there, he answered, \"Only a little girl belonging to the gardener,\nwho thought he had lost her, but was quite mistaken, for there she was\nsafe enough, and was to come back some day, as I came back, if they\nwould only wait.\"\n\n\"Did you talk to her, Diamond?\"\n\n\"No. Nobody talks there. They only look at each other, and understand\neverything.\"\n\n\"Is it cold there?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Is it hot?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"What is it then?\"\n\n\"You never think about such things there.\"\n\n\"What a queer place it must be!\"\n\n\"It's a very good place.\"\n\n\"Do you want to go back again?\"\n\n\"No; I don't think I have left it; I feel it here, somewhere.\"\n\n\"Did the people there look pleased?\"\n\n\"Yes--quite pleased, only a little sad.\"\n\n\"Then they didn't look glad?\"\n\n\"They looked as if they were waiting to be gladder some day.\"\n\nThis was how Diamond used to answer questions about that country. And\nnow I will take up the story again, and tell you how he got back to this\ncountry.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI. HOW DIAMOND GOT HOME AGAIN\n\n\nWHEN one at the back of the north wind wanted to know how things were\ngoing with any one he loved, he had to go to a certain tree, climb the\nstem, and sit down in the branches. In a few minutes, if he kept very\nstill, he would see something at least of what was going on with the\npeople he loved.\n\nOne day when Diamond was sitting in this tree, he began to long very\nmuch to get home again, and no wonder, for he saw his mother crying.\nDurante says that the people there may always follow their wishes,\nbecause they never wish but what is good. Diamond's wish was to get\nhome, and he would fain follow his wish.\n\nBut how was he to set about it? If he could only see North Wind! But the\nmoment he had got to her back, she was gone altogether from his sight.\nHe had never seen her back. She might be sitting on her doorstep still,\nlooking southwards, and waiting, white and thin and blue-eyed, until she\nwas wanted. Or she might have again become a mighty creature, with\npower to do that which was demanded of her, and gone far away upon many\nmissions. She must be somewhere, however. He could not go home without\nher, and therefore he must find her. She could never have intended to\nleave him always away from his mother. If there had been any danger of\nthat, she would have told him, and given him his choice about going. For\nNorth Wind was right honest. How to find North Wind, therefore, occupied\nall his thoughts.\n\nIn his anxiety about his mother, he used to climb the tree every day,\nand sit in its branches. However many of the dwellers there did so, they\nnever incommoded one another; for the moment one got into the tree, he\nbecame invisible to every one else; and it was such a wide-spreading\ntree that there was room for every one of the people of the country\nin it, without the least interference with each other. Sometimes, on\ngetting down, two of them would meet at the root, and then they would\nsmile to each other more sweetly than at any other time, as much as to\nsay, \"Ah, you've been up there too!\"\n\nOne day he was sitting on one of the outer branches of the tree, looking\nsouthwards after his home. Far away was a blue shining sea, dotted with\ngleaming and sparkling specks of white. Those were the icebergs. Nearer\nhe saw a great range of snow-capped mountains, and down below him the\nlovely meadow-grass of the country, with the stream flowing and flowing\nthrough it, away towards the sea. As he looked he began to wonder, for\nthe whole country lay beneath him like a map, and that which was near\nhim looked just as small as that which he knew to be miles away. The\nridge of ice which encircled it appeared but a few yards off, and no\nlarger than the row of pebbles with which a child will mark out the\nboundaries of the kingdom he has appropriated on the sea-shore. He\nthought he could distinguish the vapoury form of North Wind, seated as\nhe had left her, on the other side. Hastily he descended the tree, and\nto his amazement found that the map or model of the country still lay at\nhis feet. He stood in it. With one stride he had crossed the river; with\nanother he had reached the ridge of ice; with the third he stepped over\nits peaks, and sank wearily down at North Wind's knees. For there she\nsat on her doorstep. The peaks of the great ridge of ice were as lofty\nas ever behind her, and the country at her back had vanished from\nDiamond's view.\n\nNorth Wind was as still as Diamond had left her. Her pale face was white\nas the snow, and her motionless eyes were as blue as the caverns in the\nice. But the instant Diamond touched her, her face began to change like\nthat of one waking from sleep. Light began to glimmer from the blue of\nher eyes.\n\nA moment more, and she laid her hand on Diamond's head, and began\nplaying with his hair. Diamond took hold of her hand, and laid his face\nto it. She gave a little start.\n\n\"How very alive you are, child!\" she murmured. \"Come nearer to me.\"\n\nBy the help of the stones all around he clambered up beside her, and\nlaid himself against her bosom. She gave a great sigh, slowly lifted her\narms, and slowly folded them about him, until she clasped him close. Yet\na moment, and she roused herself, and came quite awake; and the cold of\nher bosom, which had pierced Diamond's bones, vanished.\n\n\"Have you been sitting here ever since I went through you, dear North\nWind?\" asked Diamond, stroking her hand.\n\n\"Yes,\" she answered, looking at him with her old kindness.\n\n\"Ain't you very tired?\"\n\n\"No; I've often had to sit longer. Do you know how long you have been?\"\n\n\"Oh! years and years,\" answered Diamond.\n\n\"You have just been seven days,\" returned North Wind.\n\n\"I thought I had been a hundred years!\" exclaimed Diamond.\n\n\"Yes, I daresay,\" replied North Wind. \"You've been away from here seven\ndays; but how long you may have been in there is quite another thing.\nBehind my back and before my face things are so different! They don't go\nat all by the same rule.\"\n\n\"I'm very glad,\" said Diamond, after thinking a while.\n\n\"Why?\" asked North Wind.\n\n\"Because I've been such a long time there, and such a little while away\nfrom mother. Why, she won't be expecting me home from Sandwich yet!\"\n\n\"No. But we mustn't talk any longer. I've got my orders now, and we must\nbe off in a few minutes.\"\n\nNext moment Diamond found himself sitting alone on the rock. North Wind\nhad vanished. A creature like a great humble-bee or cockchafer flew past\nhis face; but it could be neither, for there were no insects amongst the\nice. It passed him again and again, flying in circles around him, and he\nconcluded that it must be North Wind herself, no bigger than Tom Thumb\nwhen his mother put him in the nutshell lined with flannel. But she was\nno longer vapoury and thin. She was solid, although tiny. A moment more,\nand she perched on his shoulder.\n\n\"Come along, Diamond,\" she said in his ear, in the smallest and highest\nof treble voices; \"it is time we were setting out for Sandwich.\"\n\nDiamond could just see her, by turning his head towards his shoulder as\nfar as he could, but only with one eye, for his nose came between her\nand the other.\n\n\"Won't you take me in your arms and carry me?\" he said in a whisper, for\nhe knew she did not like a loud voice when she was small.\n\n\"Ah! you ungrateful boy,\" returned North Wind, smiling \"how dare you\nmake game of me? Yes, I will carry you, but you shall walk a bit for\nyour impertinence first. Come along.\"\n\nShe jumped from his shoulder, but when Diamond looked for her upon the\nground, he could see nothing but a little spider with long legs that\nmade its way over the ice towards the south. It ran very fast indeed for\na spider, but Diamond ran a long way before it, and then waited for\nit. It was up with him sooner than he had expected, however, and it\nhad grown a good deal. And the spider grew and grew and went faster and\nfaster, till all at once Diamond discovered that it was not a spider,\nbut a weasel; and away glided the weasel, and away went Diamond after\nit, and it took all the run there was in him to keep up with the weasel.\nAnd the weasel grew, and grew, and grew, till all at once Diamond saw\nthat the weasel was not a weasel but a cat. And away went the cat, and\nDiamond after it. And when he had run half a mile, he found the cat\nwaiting for him, sitting up and washing her face not to lose time. And\naway went the cat again, and Diamond after it. But the next time he came\nup with the cat, the cat was not a cat, but a hunting-leopard. And the\nhunting-leopard grew to a jaguar, all covered with spots like eyes.\nAnd the jaguar grew to a Bengal tiger. And at none of them was Diamond\nafraid, for he had been at North Wind's back, and he could be afraid of\nher no longer whatever she did or grew. And the tiger flew over the snow\nin a straight line for the south, growing less and less to Diamond's\neyes till it was only a black speck upon the whiteness; and then it\nvanished altogether. And now Diamond felt that he would rather not run\nany farther, and that the ice had got very rough. Besides, he was near\nthe precipices that bounded the sea, so he slackened his pace to a walk,\nsaying aloud to himself:\n\n\"When North Wind has punished me enough for making game of her, she will\ncome back to me; I know she will, for I can't go much farther without\nher.\"\n\n\"You dear boy! It was only in fun. Here I am!\" said North Wind's voice\nbehind him.\n\nDiamond turned, and saw her as he liked best to see her, standing beside\nhim, a tall lady.\n\n\"Where's the tiger?\" he asked, for he knew all the creatures from a\npicture book that Miss Coleman had given him. \"But, of course,\" he\nadded, \"you were the tiger. I was puzzled and forgot. I saw it such a\nlong way off before me, and there you were behind me. It's so odd, you\nknow.\"\n\n\"It must look very odd to you, Diamond: I see that. But it is no more\nodd to me than to break an old pine in two.\"\n\n\"Well, that's odd enough,\" remarked Diamond.\n\n\"So it is! I forgot. Well, none of these things are odder to me than it\nis to you to eat bread and butter.\"\n\n\"Well, that's odd too, when I think of it,\" persisted Diamond. \"I should\njust like a slice of bread and butter! I'm afraid to say how long it\nis--how long it seems to me, that is--since I had anything to eat.\"\n\n\"Come then,\" said North Wind, stooping and holding out her arms. \"You\nshall have some bread and butter very soon. I am glad to find you want\nsome.\"\n\nDiamond held up his arms to meet hers, and was safe upon her bosom.\nNorth Wind bounded into the air. Her tresses began to lift and rise and\nspread and stream and flow and flutter; and with a roar from her hair\nand an answering roar from one of the great glaciers beside them, whose\nslow torrent tumbled two or three icebergs at once into the waves at\ntheir feet, North Wind and Diamond went flying southwards.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII. WHO MET DIAMOND AT SANDWICH\n\n\nAs THEY flew, so fast they went that the sea slid away from under them\nlike a great web of shot silk, blue shot with grey, and green shot with\npurple. They went so fast that the stars themselves appeared to sail\naway past them overhead, \"like golden boats,\" on a blue sea turned\nupside down. And they went so fast that Diamond himself went the other\nway as fast--I mean he went fast asleep in North Wind's arms.\n\nWhen he woke, a face was bending over him; but it was not North Wind's;\nit was his mother's. He put out his arms to her, and she clasped him to\nher bosom and burst out crying. Diamond kissed her again and again to\nmake her stop. Perhaps kissing is the best thing for crying, but it will\nnot always stop it.\n\n\"What is the matter, mother?\" he said.\n\n\"Oh, Diamond, my darling! you have been so ill!\" she sobbed.\n\n\"No, mother dear. I've only been at the back of the north wind,\"\nreturned Diamond.\n\n\"I thought you were dead,\" said his mother.\n\nBut that moment the doctor came in.\n\n\"Oh! there!\" said the doctor with gentle cheerfulness; \"we're better\nto-day, I see.\"\n\nThen he drew the mother aside, and told her not to talk to Diamond, or\nto mind what he might say; for he must be kept as quiet as possible. And\nindeed Diamond was not much inclined to talk, for he felt very strange\nand weak, which was little wonder, seeing that all the time he had been\naway he had only sucked a few lumps of ice, and there could not be much\nnourishment in them.\n\nNow while he is lying there, getting strong again with chicken broth and\nother nice things, I will tell my readers what had been taking place at\nhis home, for they ought to be told it.\n\nThey may have forgotten that Miss Coleman was in a very poor state of\nhealth. Now there were three reasons for this. In the first place,\nher lungs were not strong. In the second place, there was a gentleman\nsomewhere who had not behaved very well to her. In the third place, she\nhad not anything particular to do. These three nots together are enough\nto make a lady very ill indeed. Of course she could not help the first\ncause; but if the other two causes had not existed, that would have been\nof little consequence; she would only have to be a little careful. The\nsecond she could not help quite; but if she had had anything to do,\nand had done it well, it would have been very difficult for any man to\nbehave badly to her. And for this third cause of her illness, if she had\nhad anything to do that was worth doing, she might have borne his bad\nbehaviour so that even that would not have made her ill. It is not\nalways easy, I confess, to find something to do that is worth doing, but\nthe most difficult things are constantly being done, and she might have\nfound something if she had tried. Her fault lay in this, that she had\nnot tried. But, to be sure, her father and mother were to blame that\nthey had never set her going. Only then again, nobody had told her\nfather and mother that they ought to set her going in that direction. So\nas none of them would find it out of themselves, North Wind had to teach\nthem.\n\nWe know that North Wind was very busy that night on which she left\nDiamond in the cathedral. She had in a sense been blowing through\nand through the Colemans' house the whole of the night. First, Miss\nColeman's maid had left a chink of her mistress's window open, thinking\nshe had shut it, and North Wind had wound a few of her hairs round the\nlady's throat. She was considerably worse the next morning. Again, the\nship which North Wind had sunk that very night belonged to Mr. Coleman.\nNor will my readers understand what a heavy loss this was to him until\nI have informed them that he had been getting poorer and poorer for some\ntime. He was not so successful in his speculations as he had been,\nfor he speculated a great deal more than was right, and it was time he\nshould be pulled up. It is a hard thing for a rich man to grow poor;\nbut it is an awful thing for him to grow dishonest, and some kinds of\nspeculation lead a man deep into dishonesty before he thinks what he is\nabout. Poverty will not make a man worthless--he may be worth a great\ndeal more when he is poor than he was when he was rich; but dishonesty\ngoes very far indeed to make a man of no value--a thing to be thrown\nout in the dust-hole of the creation, like a bit of a broken basin, or a\ndirty rag. So North Wind had to look after Mr. Coleman, and try to make\nan honest man of him. So she sank the ship which was his last venture,\nand he was what himself and his wife and the world called ruined.\n\nNor was this all yet. For on board that vessel Miss Coleman's lover was\na passenger; and when the news came that the vessel had gone down, and\nthat all on board had perished, we may be sure she did not think\nthe loss of their fine house and garden and furniture the greatest\nmisfortune in the world.\n\nOf course, the trouble did not end with Mr. Coleman and his family.\nNobody can suffer alone. When the cause of suffering is most deeply\nhidden in the heart, and nobody knows anything about it but the man\nhimself, he must be a great and a good man indeed, such as few of us\nhave known, if the pain inside him does not make him behave so as to\ncause all about him to be more or less uncomfortable. But when a man\nbrings money-troubles on himself by making haste to be rich, then\nmost of the people he has to do with must suffer in the same way with\nhimself. The elm-tree which North Wind blew down that very night, as\nif small and great trials were to be gathered in one heap, crushed Miss\nColeman's pretty summer-house: just so the fall of Mr. Coleman crushed\nthe little family that lived over his coach-house and stable. Before\nDiamond was well enough to be taken home, there was no home for him\nto go to. Mr. Coleman--or his creditors, for I do not know the\nparticulars--had sold house, carriage, horses, furniture, and\neverything. He and his wife and daughter and Mrs. Crump had gone to live\nin a small house in Hoxton, where he would be unknown, and whence he\ncould walk to his place of business in the City. For he was not an old\nman, and hoped yet to retrieve his fortunes. Let us hope that he lived\nto retrieve his honesty, the tail of which had slipped through his\nfingers to the very last joint, if not beyond it.\n\nOf course, Diamond's father had nothing to do for a time, but it was\nnot so hard for him to have nothing to do as it was for Miss Coleman. He\nwrote to his wife that, if her sister would keep her there till he got\na place, it would be better for them, and he would be greatly obliged\nto her. Meantime, the gentleman who had bought the house had allowed his\nfurniture to remain where it was for a little while.\n\nDiamond's aunt was quite willing to keep them as long as she could. And\nindeed Diamond was not yet well enough to be moved with safety.\n\nWhen he had recovered so far as to be able to go out, one day his mother\ngot her sister's husband, who had a little pony-cart, to carry them\ndown to the sea-shore, and leave them there for a few hours. He had\nsome business to do further on at Ramsgate, and would pick them up as he\nreturned. A whiff of the sea-air would do them both good, she said, and\nshe thought besides she could best tell Diamond what had happened if she\nhad him quite to herself.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII. THE SEASIDE\n\n\nDIAMOND and his mother sat down upon the edge of the rough grass that\nbordered the sand. The sun was just far enough past its highest not to\nshine in their eyes when they looked eastward. A sweet little wind blew\non their left side, and comforted the mother without letting her know\nwhat it was that comforted her. Away before them stretched the sparkling\nwaters of the ocean, every wave of which flashed out its own delight\nback in the face of the great sun, which looked down from the stillness\nof its blue house with glorious silent face upon its flashing children.\nOn each hand the shore rounded outwards, forming a little bay. There\nwere no white cliffs here, as further north and south, and the place was\nrather dreary, but the sky got at them so much the better. Not a house,\nnot a creature was within sight. Dry sand was about their feet, and\nunder them thin wiry grass, that just managed to grow out of the\npoverty-stricken shore.\n\n\"Oh dear!\" said Diamond's mother, with a deep sigh, \"it's a sad world!\"\n\n\"Is it?\" said Diamond. \"I didn't know.\"\n\n\"How should you know, child? You've been too well taken care of, I\ntrust.\"\n\n\"Oh yes, I have,\" returned Diamond. \"I'm sorry! I thought you were taken\ncare of too. I thought my father took care of you. I will ask him about\nit. I think he must have forgotten.\"\n\n\"Dear boy!\" said his mother, \"your father's the best man in the world.\"\n\n\"So I thought!\" returned Diamond with triumph. \"I was sure of it!--Well,\ndoesn't he take very good care of you?\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, he does,\" answered his mother, bursting into tears. \"But\nwho's to take care of him? And how is he to take care of us if he's got\nnothing to eat himself?\"\n\n\"Oh dear!\" said Diamond with a gasp; \"hasn't he got anything to eat? Oh!\nI must go home to him.\"\n\n\"No, no, child. He's not come to that yet. But what's to become of us, I\ndon't know.\"\n\n\"Are you very hungry, mother? There's the basket. I thought you put\nsomething to eat in it.\"\n\n\"O you darling stupid! I didn't say I was hungry,\" returned his mother,\nsmiling through her tears.\n\n\"Then I don't understand you at all,\" said Diamond. \"Do tell me what's\nthe matter.\"\n\n\"There are people in the world who have nothing to eat, Diamond.\"\n\n\"Then I suppose they don't stop in it any longer. They--they--what you\ncall--die--don't they?\"\n\n\"Yes, they do. How would you like that?\"\n\n\"I don't know. I never tried. But I suppose they go where they get\nsomething to eat.\"\n\n\"Like enough they don't want it,\" said his mother, petulantly.\n\n\"That's all right then,\" said Diamond, thinking I daresay more than he\nchose to put in words.\n\n\"Is it though? Poor boy! how little you know about things! Mr. Coleman's\nlost all his money, and your father has nothing to do, and we shall have\nnothing to eat by and by.\"\n\n\"Are you sure, mother?\"\n\n\"Sure of what?\"\n\n\"Sure that we shall have nothing to eat.\"\n\n\"No, thank Heaven! I'm not sure of it. I hope not.\"\n\n\"Then I can't understand it, mother. There's a piece of gingerbread in\nthe basket, I know.\"\n\n\"O you little bird! You have no more sense than a sparrow that picks\nwhat it wants, and never thinks of the winter and the frost and, the\nsnow.\"\n\n\"Ah--yes--I see. But the birds get through the winter, don't they?\"\n\n\"Some of them fall dead on the ground.\"\n\n\"They must die some time. They wouldn't like to be birds always. Would\nyou, mother?\"\n\n\"What a child it is!\" thought his mother, but she said nothing.\n\n\"Oh! now I remember,\" Diamond went on. \"Father told me that day I went\nto Epping Forest with him, that the rose-bushes, and the may-bushes, and\nthe holly-bushes were the bird's barns, for there were the hips, and the\nhaws, and the holly-berries, all ready for the winter.\"\n\n\"Yes; that's all very true. So you see the birds are provided for. But\nthere are no such barns for you and me, Diamond.\"\n\n\"Ain't there?\"\n\n\"No. We've got to work for our bread.\"\n\n\"Then let's go and work,\" said Diamond, getting up.\n\n\"It's no use. We've not got anything to do.\"\n\n\"Then let's wait.\"\n\n\"Then we shall starve.\"\n\n\"No. There's the basket. Do you know, mother, I think I shall call that\nbasket the barn.\"\n\n\"It's not a very big one. And when it's empty--where are we then?\"\n\n\"At auntie's cupboard,\" returned Diamond promptly.\n\n\"But we can't eat auntie's things all up and leave her to starve.\"\n\n\"No, no. We'll go back to father before that. He'll have found a\ncupboard somewhere by that time.\"\n\n\"How do you know that?\"\n\n\"I don't know it. But I haven't got even a cupboard, and I've always had\nplenty to eat. I've heard you say I had too much, sometimes.\"\n\n\"But I tell you that's because I've had a cupboard for you, child.\"\n\n\"And when yours was empty, auntie opened hers.\"\n\n\"But that can't go on.\"\n\n\"How do you know? I think there must be a big cupboard somewhere, out of\nwhich the little cupboards are filled, you know, mother.\"\n\n\"Well, I wish I could find the door of that cupboard,\" said his mother.\nBut the same moment she stopped, and was silent for a good while. I\ncannot tell whether Diamond knew what she was thinking, but I think I\nknow. She had heard something at church the day before, which came back\nupon her--something like this, that she hadn't to eat for tomorrow as\nwell as for to-day; and that what was not wanted couldn't be missed.\nSo, instead of saying anything more, she stretched out her hand for the\nbasket, and she and Diamond had their dinner.\n\nAnd Diamond did enjoy it. For the drive and the fresh air had made him\nquite hungry; and he did not, like his mother, trouble himself about\nwhat they should dine off that day week. The fact was he had lived so\nlong without any food at all at the back of the north wind, that he knew\nquite well that food was not essential to existence; that in fact, under\ncertain circumstances, people could live without it well enough.\n\nHis mother did not speak much during their dinner. After it was over she\nhelped him to walk about a little, but he was not able for much and soon\ngot tired. He did not get fretful, though. He was too glad of having the\nsun and the wind again, to fret because he could not run about. He lay\ndown on the dry sand, and his mother covered him with a shawl. She then\nsat by his side, and took a bit of work from her pocket. But Diamond\nfelt rather sleepy, and turned on his side and gazed sleepily over the\nsand. A few yards off he saw something fluttering.\n\n\"What is that, mother?\" he said.\n\n\"Only a bit of paper,\" she answered.\n\n\"It flutters more than a bit of paper would, I think,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"I'll go and see if you like,\" said his mother. \"My eyes are none of the\nbest.\"\n\nSo she rose and went and found that they were both right, for it was a\nlittle book, partly buried in the sand. But several of its leaves were\nclear of the sand, and these the wind kept blowing about in a very\nflutterful manner. She took it up and brought it to Diamond.\n\n\"What is it, mother?\" he asked.\n\n\"Some nursery rhymes, I think,\" she answered.\n\n\"I'm too sleepy,\" said Diamond. \"Do read some of them to me.\"\n\n\"Yes, I will,\" she said, and began one.--\"But this is such nonsense!\"\nshe said again. \"I will try to find a better one.\"\n\nShe turned the leaves searching, but three times, with sudden puffs, the\nwind blew the leaves rustling back to the same verses.\n\n\"Do read that one,\" said Diamond, who seemed to be of the same mind as\nthe wind. \"It sounded very nice. I am sure it is a good one.\"\n\nSo his mother thought it might amuse him, though she couldn't find any\nsense in it. She never thought he might understand it, although she\ncould not.\n\nNow I do not exactly know what the mother read, but this is what Diamond\nheard, or thought afterwards that he had heard. He was, however, as I\nhave said, very sleepy. And when he thought he understood the verses he\nmay have been only dreaming better ones. This is how they went--\n\nI know a river whose waters run asleep run run ever singing in the\nshallows dumb in the hollows sleeping so deep and all the swallows that\ndip their feathers in the hollows or in the shallows are the merriest\nswallows of all for the nests they bake with the clay they cake with\nthe water they shake from their wings that rake the water out of the\nshallows or the hollows will hold together in any weather and so the\nswallows are the merriest fellows and have the merriest children and\nare built so narrow like the head of an arrow to cut the air and go just\nwhere the nicest water is flowing and the nicest dust is blowing for\neach so narrow like head of an arrow is only a barrow to carry the\nmud he makes from the nicest water flowing and the nicest dust that is\nblowing to build his nest for her he loves best with the nicest cakes\nwhich the sunshine bakes all for their merry children all so callow with\nbeaks that follow gaping and hollow wider and wider after their father\nor after their mother the food-provider who brings them a spider or a\nworm the poor hider down in the earth so there's no dearth for their\nbeaks as yellow as the buttercups growing beside the flowing of the\nsinging river always and ever growing and blowing for fast as the sheep\nawake or asleep crop them and crop them they cannot stop them but up\nthey creep and on they go blowing and so with the daisies the little\nwhite praises they grow and they blow and they spread out their crown\nand they praise the sun and when he goes down their praising is done and\nthey fold up their crown and they sleep every one till over the plain\nhe's shining amain and they're at it again praising and praising such\nlow songs raising that no one hears them but the sun who rears them and\nthe sheep that bite them are the quietest sheep awake or asleep with the\nmerriest bleat and the little lambs are the merriest lambs they forget\nto eat for the frolic in their feet and the lambs and their dams are\nthe whitest sheep with the woolliest wool and the longest wool and the\ntrailingest tails and they shine like snow in the grasses that grow by\nthe singing river that sings for ever and the sheep and the lambs are\nmerry for ever because the river sings and they drink it and the lambs\nand their dams are quiet and white because of their diet for what they\nbite is buttercups yellow and daisies white and grass as green as the\nriver can make it with wind as mellow to kiss it and shake it as never\nwas seen but here in the hollows beside the river where all the swallows\nare merriest of fellows for the nests they make with the clay they cake\nin the sunshine bake till they are like bone as dry in the wind as a\nmarble stone so firm they bind the grass in the clay that dries in the\nwind the sweetest wind that blows by the river flowing for ever but\nnever you find whence comes the wind that blows on the hollows and over\nthe shallows where dip the swallows alive it blows the life as it goes\nawake or asleep into the river that sings as it flows and the life it\nblows into the sheep awake or asleep with the woolliest wool and the\ntrailingest tails and it never fails gentle and cool to wave the wool\nand to toss the grass as the lambs and the sheep over it pass and tug\nand bite with their teeth so white and then with the sweep of their\ntrailing tails smooth it again and it grows amain and amain it grows and\nthe wind as it blows tosses the swallows over the hollows and down on\nthe shallows till every feather doth shake and quiver and all their\nfeathers go all together blowing the life and the joy so rife into the\nswallows that skim the shallows and have the yellowest children for the\nwind that blows is the life of the river flowing for ever that washes\nthe grasses still as it passes and feeds the daisies the little white\npraises and buttercups bonny so golden and sunny with butter and honey\nthat whiten the sheep awake or asleep that nibble and bite and grow\nwhiter than white and merry and quiet on the sweet diet fed by the river\nand tossed for ever by the wind that tosses the swallow that crosses\nover the shallows dipping his wings to gather the water and bake the\ncake that the wind shall make as hard as a bone as dry as a stone it's\nall in the wind that blows from behind and all in the river that flows\nfor ever and all in the grasses and the white daisies and the merry\nsheep awake or asleep and the happy swallows skimming the shallows and\nit's all in the wind that blows from behind.\n\n\nHere Diamond became aware that his mother had stopped reading.\n\n\"Why don't you go on, mother dear?\" he asked.\n\n\"It's such nonsense!\" said his mother. \"I believe it would go on for\never.\"\n\n\"That's just what it did,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"What did?\" she asked.\n\n\"Why, the river. That's almost the very tune it used to sing.\"\n\nHis mother was frightened, for she thought the fever was coming on\nagain. So she did not contradict him.\n\n\"Who made that poem?\" asked Diamond.\n\n\"I don't know,\" she answered. \"Some silly woman for her children, I\nsuppose--and then thought it good enough to print.\"\n\n\"She must have been at the back of the north wind some time or other,\nanyhow,\" said Diamond. \"She couldn't have got a hold of it anywhere\nelse. That's just how it went.\" And he began to chant bits of it here\nand there; but his mother said nothing for fear of making him, worse;\nand she was very glad indeed when she saw her brother-in-law jogging\nalong in his little cart. They lifted Diamond in, and got up themselves,\nand away they went, \"home again, home again, home again,\" as Diamond\nsang. But he soon grew quiet, and before they reached Sandwich he was\nfast asleep and dreaming of the country at the back of the north wind.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV. OLD DIAMOND\n\n\nAFTER this Diamond recovered so fast, that in a few days he was quite\nable to go home as soon as his father had a place for them to go. Now\nhis father having saved a little money, and finding that no situation\noffered itself, had been thinking over a new plan. A strange occurrence\nit was which turned his thoughts in that direction. He had a friend in\nthe Bloomsbury region, who lived by letting out cabs and horses to the\ncabmen. This man, happening to meet him one day as he was returning from\nan unsuccessful application, said to him:\n\n\"Why don't you set up for yourself now--in the cab line, I mean?\"\n\n\"I haven't enough for that,\" answered Diamond's father.\n\n\"You must have saved a goodish bit, I should think. Just come home with\nme now and look at a horse I can let you have cheap. I bought him only a\nfew weeks ago, thinking he'd do for a Hansom, but I was wrong. He's got\nbone enough for a waggon, but a waggon ain't a Hansom. He ain't got go\nenough for a Hansom. You see parties as takes Hansoms wants to go like\nthe wind, and he ain't got wind enough, for he ain't so young as he once\nwas. But for a four-wheeler as takes families and their luggages, he's\nthe very horse. He'd carry a small house any day. I bought him cheap,\nand I'll sell him cheap.\"\n\n\"Oh, I don't want him,\" said Diamond's father. \"A body must have time\nto think over an affair of so much importance. And there's the cab too.\nThat would come to a deal of money.\"\n\n\"I could fit you there, I daresay,\" said his friend. \"But come and look\nat the animal, anyhow.\"\n\n\"Since I lost my own old pair, as was Mr. Coleman's,\" said Diamond's\nfather, turning to accompany the cab-master, \"I ain't almost got the\nheart to look a horse in the face. It's a thousand pities to part man\nand horse.\"\n\n\"So it is,\" returned his friend sympathetically.\n\nBut what was the ex-coachman's delight, when, on going into the stable\nwhere his friend led him, he found the horse he wanted him to buy was\nno other than his own old Diamond, grown very thin and bony and\nlong-legged, as if they, had been doing what they could to fit him for\nHansom work!\n\n\"He ain't a Hansom horse,\" said Diamond's father indignantly.\n\n\"Well, you're right. He ain't handsome, but he's a good un\" said his\nowner.\n\n\"Who says he ain't handsome? He's one of the handsomest horses a\ngentleman's coachman ever druv,\" said Diamond's father; remarking to\nhimself under his breath--\"though I says it as shouldn't\"--for he did\nnot feel inclined all at once to confess that his own old horse could\nhave sunk so low.\n\n\"Well,\" said his friend, \"all I say is--There's a animal for you, as\nstrong as a church; an'll go like a train, leastways a parly,\" he added,\ncorrecting himself.\n\nBut the coachman had a lump in his throat and tears in his eyes. For the\nold horse, hearing his voice, had turned his long neck, and when his\nold friend went up to him and laid his hand on his side, he whinnied\nfor joy, and laid his big head on his master's breast. This settled the\nmatter. The coachman's arms were round the horse's neck in a moment, and\nhe fairly broke down and cried. The cab-master had never been so fond of\na horse himself as to hug him like that, but he saw in a moment how it\nwas. And he must have been a good-hearted fellow, for I never heard of\nsuch an idea coming into the head of any other man with a horse to sell:\ninstead of putting something on to the price because he was now pretty\nsure of selling him, he actually took a pound off what he had meant to\nask for him, saying to himself it was a shame to part old friends.\n\nDiamond's father, as soon as he came to himself, turned and asked how\nmuch he wanted for the horse.\n\n\"I see you're old friends,\" said the owner.\n\n\"It's my own old Diamond. I liked him far the best of the pair, though\nthe other was good. You ain't got him too, have you?\"\n\n\"No; nothing in the stable to match him there.\"\n\n\"I believe you,\" said the coachman. \"But you'll be wanting a long price\nfor him, I know.\"\n\n\"No, not so much. I bought him cheap, and as I say, he ain't for my\nwork.\"\n\nThe end of it was that Diamond's father bought old Diamond again, along\nwith a four-wheeled cab. And as there were some rooms to be had over the\nstable, he took them, wrote to his wife to come home, and set up as a\ncabman.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV. THE MEWS\n\n\nIT WAS late in the afternoon when Diamond and his mother and the baby\nreached London. I was so full of Diamond that I forgot to tell you a\nbaby had arrived in the meantime. His father was waiting for them with\nhis own cab, but they had not told Diamond who the horse was; for his\nfather wanted to enjoy the pleasure of his surprise when he found it\nout. He got in with his mother without looking at the horse, and his\nfather having put up Diamond's carpet-bag and his mother's little trunk,\ngot upon the box himself and drove off; and Diamond was quite proud of\nriding home in his father's own carriage. But when he got to the mews,\nhe could not help being a little dismayed at first; and if he had never\nbeen to the back of the north wind, I am afraid he would have cried a\nlittle. But instead of that, he said to himself it was a fine thing all\nthe old furniture was there. And instead of helping his mother to be\nmiserable at the change, he began to find out all the advantages of the\nplace; for every place has some advantages, and they are always\nbetter worth knowing than the disadvantages. Certainly the weather was\ndepressing, for a thick, dull, persistent rain was falling by the time\nthey reached home. But happily the weather is very changeable; and\nbesides, there was a good fire burning in the room, which their\nneighbour with the drunken husband had attended to for them; and the\ntea-things were put out, and the kettle was boiling on the fire. And\nwith a good fire, and tea and bread and butter, things cannot be said to\nbe miserable.\n\nDiamond's father and mother were, notwithstanding, rather miserable, and\nDiamond began to feel a kind of darkness beginning to spread over his\nown mind. But the same moment he said to himself, \"This will never do.\nI can't give in to this. I've been to the back of the north wind. Things\ngo right there, and so I must try to get things to go right here. I've\ngot to fight the miserable things. They shan't make me miserable if I\ncan help it.\" I do not mean that he thought these very words. They are\nperhaps too grown-up for him to have thought, but they represent the\nkind of thing that was in his heart and his head. And when heart and\nhead go together, nothing can stand before them.\n\n\"What nice bread and butter this is!\" said Diamond.\n\n\"I'm glad you like it, my dear\" said his father. \"I bought the butter\nmyself at the little shop round the corner.\"\n\n\"It's very nice, thank you, father. Oh, there's baby waking! I'll take\nhim.\"\n\n\"Sit still, Diamond,\" said his mother. \"Go on with your bread and\nbutter. You're not strong enough to lift him yet.\"\n\nSo she took the baby herself, and set him on her knee. Then Diamond\nbegan to amuse him, and went on till the little fellow was shrieking\nwith laughter. For the baby's world was his mother's arms; and the\ndrizzling rain, and the dreary mews, and even his father's troubled\nface could not touch him. What cared baby for the loss of a hundred\nsituations? Yet neither father nor mother thought him hard-hearted\nbecause he crowed and laughed in the middle of their troubles. On the\ncontrary, his crowing and laughing were infectious. His little heart was\nso full of merriment that it could not hold it all, and it ran over into\ntheirs. Father and mother began to laugh too, and Diamond laughed till\nhe had a fit of coughing which frightened his mother, and made them all\nstop. His father took the baby, and his mother put him to bed.\n\nBut it was indeed a change to them all, not only from Sandwich, but from\ntheir old place, instead of the great river where the huge barges with\ntheir mighty brown and yellow sails went tacking from side to side like\nlittle pleasure-skiffs, and where the long thin boats shot past with\neight and sometimes twelve rowers, their windows now looked out upon a\ndirty paved yard. And there was no garden more for Diamond to run into\nwhen he pleased, with gay flowers about his feet, and solemn sun-filled\ntrees over his head. Neither was there a wooden wall at the back of\nhis bed with a hole in it for North Wind to come in at when she liked.\nIndeed, there was such a high wall, and there were so many houses about\nthe mews, that North Wind seldom got into the place at all, except when\nsomething must be done, and she had a grand cleaning out like other\nhousewives; while the partition at the head of Diamond's new bed only\ndivided it from the room occupied by a cabman who drank too much beer,\nand came home chiefly to quarrel with his wife and pinch his children.\nIt was dreadful to Diamond to hear the scolding and the crying. But it\ncould not make him miserable, because he had been at the back of the\nnorth wind.\n\nIf my reader find it hard to believe that Diamond should be so good,\nhe must remember that he had been to the back of the north wind. If he\nnever knew a boy so good, did he ever know a boy that had been to the\nback of the north wind? It was not in the least strange of Diamond to\nbehave as he did; on the contrary, it was thoroughly sensible of him.\n\nWe shall see how he got on.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI. DIAMOND MAKES A BEGINNING\n\n\nTHE wind blew loud, but Diamond slept a deep sleep, and never heard\nit. My own impression is that every time when Diamond slept well and\nremembered nothing about it in the morning, he had been all that night\nat the back of the north wind. I am almost sure that was how he woke\nso refreshed, and felt so quiet and hopeful all the day. Indeed he said\nthis much, though not to me--that always when he woke from such a sleep\nthere was a something in his mind, he could not tell what--could not\ntell whether it was the last far-off sounds of the river dying away in\nthe distance, or some of the words of the endless song his mother had\nread to him on the sea-shore. Sometimes he thought it must have been\nthe twittering of the swallows--over the shallows, you, know; but it may\nhave been the chirping of the dingy sparrows picking up their breakfast\nin the yard--how can I tell? I don't know what I know, I only know what\nI think; and to tell the truth, I am more for the swallows than the\nsparrows. When he knew he was coming awake, he would sometimes try hard\nto keep hold of the words of what seemed a new song, one he had not\nheard before--a song in which the words and the music somehow appeared\nto be all one; but even when he thought he had got them well fixed in\nhis mind, ever as he came awaker--as he would say--one line faded away\nout of it, and then another, and then another, till at last there was\nnothing left but some lovely picture of water or grass or daisies, or\nsomething else very common, but with all the commonness polished off it,\nand the lovely soul of it, which people so seldom see, and, alas! yet\nseldomer believe in, shining out. But after that he would sing the\noddest, loveliest little songs to the baby--of his own making, his\nmother said; but Diamond said he did not make them; they were made\nsomewhere inside him, and he knew nothing about them till they were\ncoming out.\n\nWhen he woke that first morning he got up at once, saying to himself,\n\"I've been ill long enough, and have given a great deal of trouble; I\nmust try and be of use now, and help my mother.\" When he went into her\nroom he found her lighting the fire, and his father just getting out of\nbed. They had only the one room, besides the little one, not much more\nthan a closet, in which Diamond slept. He began at once to set things\nto rights, but the baby waking up, he took him, and nursed him till\nhis mother had got the breakfast ready. She was looking gloomy, and his\nfather was silent; and indeed except Diamond had done all he possibly\ncould to keep out the misery that was trying to get in at doors and\nwindows, he too would have grown miserable, and then they would have\nbeen all miserable together. But to try to make others comfortable is\nthe only way to get right comfortable ourselves, and that comes partly\nof not being able to think so much about ourselves when we are helping\nother people. For our Selves will always do pretty well if we don't pay\nthem too much attention. Our Selves are like some little children who\nwill be happy enough so long as they are left to their own games, but\nwhen we begin to interfere with them, and make them presents of too nice\nplaythings, or too many sweet things, they begin at once to fret and\nspoil.\n\n\"Why, Diamond, child!\" said his mother at last, \"you're as good to your\nmother as if you were a girl--nursing the baby, and toasting the bread,\nand sweeping up the hearth! I declare a body would think you had been\namong the fairies.\"\n\nCould Diamond have had greater praise or greater pleasure? You see\nwhen he forgot his Self his mother took care of his Self, and loved and\npraised his Self. Our own praises poison our Selves, and puff and swell\nthem up, till they lose all shape and beauty, and become like great\ntoadstools. But the praises of father or mother do our Selves good, and\ncomfort them and make them beautiful. They never do them any harm. If\nthey do any harm, it comes of our mixing some of our own praises with\nthem, and that turns them nasty and slimy and poisonous.\n\nWhen his father had finished his breakfast, which he did rather in a\nhurry, he got up and went down into the yard to get out his horse and\nput him to the cab.\n\n\"Won't you come and see the cab, Diamond?\" he said.\n\n\"Yes, please, father--if mother can spare me a minute,\" answered\nDiamond.\n\n\"Bless the child! I don't want him,\" said his mother cheerfully.\n\nBut as he was following his father out of the door, she called him back.\n\n\"Diamond, just hold the baby one minute. I have something to say to your\nfather.\"\n\nSo Diamond sat down again, took the baby in his lap, and began poking\nhis face into its little body, laughing and singing all the while,\nso that the baby crowed like a little bantam. And what he sang was\nsomething like this--such nonsense to those that couldn't understand it!\nbut not to the baby, who got all the good in the world out of it:--\nbaby's a-sleeping wake up baby for all the swallows are the merriest\nfellows and have the yellowest children who would go sleeping and\nsnore like a gaby disturbing his mother and father and brother and all\na-boring their ears with his snoring snoring snoring for himself and no\nother for himself in particular wake up baby sit up perpendicular hark\nto the gushing hark to the rushing where the sheep are the woolliest and\nthe lambs the unruliest and their tails the whitest and their eyes the\nbrightest and baby's the bonniest and baby's the funniest and baby's the\nshiniest and baby's the tiniest and baby's the merriest and baby's\nthe worriest of all the lambs that plague their dams and mother's\nthe whitest of all the dams that feed the lambs that go crop-cropping\nwithout stop-stopping and father's the best of all the swallows that\nbuild their nest out of the shining shallows and he has the merriest\nchildren that's baby and Diamond and Diamond and baby and baby and\nDiamond and Diamond and baby--\n\n\nHere Diamond's knees went off in a wild dance which tossed the baby\nabout and shook the laughter out of him in immoderate peals. His mother\nhad been listening at the door to the last few lines of his song, and\ncame in with the tears in her eyes. She took the baby from him, gave him\na kiss, and told him to run to his father.\n\nBy the time Diamond got into the yard, the horse was between the shafts,\nand his father was looping the traces on. Diamond went round to look at\nthe horse. The sight of him made him feel very queer. He did not know\nmuch about different horses, and all other horses than their own were\nvery much the same to him. But he could not make it out. This was\nDiamond and it wasn't Diamond. Diamond didn't hang his head like that;\nyet the head that was hanging was very like the one that Diamond used\nto hold so high. Diamond's bones didn't show through his skin like that;\nbut the skin they pushed out of shape so was very like Diamond's skin;\nand the bones might be Diamond's bones, for he had never seen the shape\nof them. But when he came round in front of the old horse, and he put\nout his long neck, and began sniffing at him and rubbing his upper lip\nand his nose on him, then Diamond saw it could be no other than old\nDiamond, and he did just as his father had done before--put his arms\nround his neck and cried--but not much.\n\n\"Ain't it jolly, father?\" he said. \"Was there ever anybody so lucky as\nme? Dear old Diamond!\"\n\nAnd he hugged the horse again, and kissed both his big hairy cheeks. He\ncould only manage one at a time, however--the other cheek was so far off\non the other side of his big head.\n\nHis father mounted the box with just the same air, as Diamond thought,\nwith which he had used to get upon the coach-box, and Diamond said\nto himself, \"Father's as grand as ever anyhow.\" He had kept his brown\nlivery-coat, only his wife had taken the silver buttons off and put\nbrass ones instead, because they did not think it polite to Mr. Coleman\nin his fallen fortunes to let his crest be seen upon the box of a cab.\nOld Diamond had kept just his collar; and that had the silver crest upon\nit still, for his master thought nobody would notice that, and so let it\nremain for a memorial of the better days of which it reminded him--not\nunpleasantly, seeing it had been by no fault either of his or of the old\nhorse's that they had come down in the world together.\n\n\"Oh, father, do let me drive a bit,\" said Diamond, jumping up on the box\nbeside him.\n\nHis father changed places with him at once, putting the reins into his\nhands. Diamond gathered them up eagerly.\n\n\"Don't pull at his mouth,\" said his father, \"just feel, at it gently\nto let him know you're there and attending to him. That's what I call\ntalking to him through the reins.\"\n\n\"Yes, father, I understand,\" said Diamond. Then to the horse he said,\n\"Go on Diamond.\" And old Diamond's ponderous bulk began at once to move\nto the voice of the little boy.\n\nBut before they had reached the entrance of the mews, another voice\ncalled after young Diamond, which, in his turn, he had to obey, for it\nwas that of his mother. \"Diamond! Diamond!\" it cried; and Diamond pulled\nthe reins, and the horse stood still as a stone.\n\n\"Husband,\" said his mother, coming up, \"you're never going to trust him\nwith the reins--a baby like that?\"\n\n\"He must learn some day, and he can't begin too soon. I see already he's\na born coachman,\" said his father proudly. \"And I don't see well how\nhe could escape it, for my father and my grandfather, that's his\ngreat-grandfather, was all coachmen, I'm told; so it must come natural\nto him, any one would think. Besides, you see, old Diamond's as proud of\nhim as we are our own selves, wife. Don't you see how he's turning round\nhis ears, with the mouths of them open, for the first word he speaks to\ntumble in? He's too well bred to turn his head, you know.\"\n\n\"Well, but, husband, I can't do without him to-day. Everything's got to\nbe done, you know. It's my first day here. And there's that baby!\"\n\n\"Bless you, wife! I never meant to take him away--only to the bottom of\nEndell Street. He can watch his way back.\"\n\n\"No thank you, father; not to-day,\" said Diamond. \"Mother wants me.\nPerhaps she'll let me go another day.\"\n\n\"Very well, my man,\" said his father, and took the reins which Diamond\nwas holding out to him.\n\nDiamond got down, a little disappointed of course, and went with his\nmother, who was too pleased to speak. She only took hold of his hand as\ntight as if she had been afraid of his running away instead of glad that\nhe would not leave her.\n\nNow, although they did not know it, the owner of the stables, the same\nman who had sold the horse to his father, had been standing just inside\none of the stable-doors, with his hands in his pockets, and had heard\nand seen all that passed; and from that day John Stonecrop took a great\nfancy to the little boy. And this was the beginning of what came of it.\n\nThe same evening, just as Diamond was feeling tired of the day's work,\nand wishing his father would come home, Mr. Stonecrop knocked at the\ndoor. His mother went and opened it.\n\n\"Good evening, ma'am,\" said he. \"Is the little master in?\"\n\n\"Yes, to be sure he is--at your service, I'm sure, Mr. Stonecrop,\" said\nhis mother.\n\n\"No, no, ma'am; it's I'm at his service. I'm just a-going out with my\nown cab, and if he likes to come with me, he shall drive my old horse\ntill he's tired.\"\n\n\"It's getting rather late for him,\" said his mother thoughtfully. \"You\nsee he's been an invalid.\"\n\nDiamond thought, what a funny thing! How could he have been an invalid\nwhen he did not even know what the word meant? But, of course, his\nmother was right.\n\n\"Oh, well,\" said Mr. Stonecrop, \"I can just let him drive through\nBloomsbury Square, and then he shall run home again.\"\n\n\"Very good, sir. And I'm much obliged to you,\" said his mother.\nAnd Diamond, dancing with delight, got his cap, put his hand in Mr.\nStonecrop's, and went with him to the yard where the cab was waiting.\nHe did not think the horse looked nearly so nice as Diamond, nor Mr.\nStonecrop nearly so grand as his father; but he was none, the less\npleased. He got up on the box, and his new friend got up beside him.\n\n\"What's the horse's name?\" whispered Diamond, as he took the reins from\nthe man.\n\n\"It's not a nice name,\" said Mr. Stonecrop. \"You needn't call him by it.\nI didn't give it him. He'll go well enough without it. Give the boy a\nwhip, Jack. I never carries one when I drive old----\"\n\nHe didn't finish the sentence. Jack handed Diamond a whip, with which,\nby holding it half down the stick, he managed just to flack the haunches\nof the horse; and away he went.\n\n\"Mind the gate,\" said Mr. Stonecrop; and Diamond did mind the gate, and\nguided the nameless horse through it in safety, pulling him this way and\nthat according as was necessary. Diamond learned to drive all the sooner\nthat he had been accustomed to do what he was told, and could obey the\nsmallest hint in a moment. Nothing helps one to get on like that. Some\npeople don't know how to do what they are told; they have not been used\nto it, and they neither understand quickly nor are able to turn what\nthey do understand into action quickly. With an obedient mind one learns\nthe rights of things fast enough; for it is the law of the universe, and\nto obey is to understand.\n\n\"Look out!\" cried Mr. Stonecrop, as they were turning the corner into\nBloomsbury Square.\n\nIt was getting dusky now. A cab was approaching rather rapidly from\nthe opposite direction, and Diamond pulling aside, and the other driver\npulling up, they only just escaped a collision. Then they knew each\nother.\n\n\"Why, Diamond, it's a bad beginning to run into your own father,\" cried\nthe driver.\n\n\"But, father, wouldn't it have been a bad ending to run into your own\nson?\" said Diamond in return; and the two men laughed heartily.\n\n\"This is very kind of you, I'm sure, Stonecrop,\" said his father.\n\n\"Not a bit. He's a brave fellow, and'll be fit to drive on his own hook\nin a week or two. But I think you'd better let him drive you home now,\nfor his mother don't like his having over much of the night air, and I\npromised not to take him farther than the square.\"\n\n\"Come along then, Diamond,\" said his father, as he brought his cab up to\nthe other, and moved off the box to the seat beside it. Diamond jumped\nacross, caught at the reins, said \"Good-night, and thank you, Mr.\nStonecrop,\" and drove away home, feeling more of a man than he had ever\nyet had a chance of feeling in all his life. Nor did his father find it\nnecessary to give him a single hint as to his driving. Only I suspect\nthe fact that it was old Diamond, and old Diamond on his way to his\nstable, may have had something to do with young Diamond's success.\n\n\"Well, child,\" said his mother, when he entered the room, \"you've not\nbeen long gone.\"\n\n\"No, mother; here I am. Give me the baby.\"\n\n\"The baby's asleep,\" said his mother.\n\n\"Then give him to me, and I'll lay him down.\"\n\nBut as Diamond took him, he woke up and began to laugh. For he was\nindeed one of the merriest children. And no wonder, for he was as plump\nas a plum-pudding, and had never had an ache or a pain that lasted more\nthan five minutes at a time. Diamond sat down with him and began to sing\nto him.\n\nbaby baby babbing your father's gone a-cabbing to catch a shilling for\nits pence to make the baby babbing dance for old Diamond's a duck they\nsay he can swim but the duck of diamonds is baby that's him and of all\nthe swallows the merriest fellows that bake their cake with the water\nthey shake out of the river flowing for ever and make dust into clay on\nthe shiniest day to build their nest father's the best and mother's the\nwhitest and her eyes are the brightest of all the dams that watch their\nlambs cropping the grass where the waters pass singing for ever and of\nall the lambs with the shakingest tails and the jumpingest feet baby's\nthe funniest baby's the bonniest and he never wails and he's always\nsweet and Diamond's his nurse and Diamond's his nurse and Diamond's his\nnurse\n\n\nWhen Diamond's rhymes grew scarce, he always began dancing the baby.\nSome people wondered that such a child could rhyme as he did, but his\nrhymes were not very good, for he was only trying to remember what he\nhad heard the river sing at the back of the north wind.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII. DIAMOND GOES ON\n\n\nDIAMOND became a great favourite with all the men about the mews. Some\nmay think it was not the best place in the world for him to be brought\nup in; but it must have been, for there he was. At first, he heard a\ngood many rough and bad words; but he did not like them, and so they did\nhim little harm. He did not know in the least what they meant, but there\nwas something in the very sound of them, and in the tone of voice in\nwhich they were said, which Diamond felt to be ugly. So they did not\neven stick to him, not to say get inside him. He never took any notice\nof them, and his face shone pure and good in the middle of them, like\na primrose in a hailstorm. At first, because his face was so quiet\nand sweet, with a smile always either awake or asleep in his eyes, and\nbecause he never heeded their ugly words and rough jokes, they said he\nwasn't all there, meaning that he was half an idiot, whereas he was a\ngreat deal more there than they had the sense to see. And before long\nthe bad words found themselves ashamed to come out of the men's mouths\nwhen Diamond was near. The one would nudge the other to remind him that\nthe boy was within hearing, and the words choked themselves before they\ngot any farther. When they talked to him nicely he had always a good\nanswer, sometimes a smart one, ready, and that helped much to make them\nchange their minds about him.\n\nOne day Jack gave him a curry-comb and a brush to try his hand upon\nold Diamond's coat. He used them so deftly, so gently, and yet so\nthoroughly, as far as he could reach, that the man could not help\nadmiring him.\n\n\"You must make haste and, grow\" he said. \"It won't do to have a horse's\nbelly clean and his back dirty, you know.\"\n\n\"Give me a leg,\" said Diamond, and in a moment he was on the old horse's\nback with the comb and brush. He sat on his withers, and reaching\nforward as he ate his hay, he curried and he brushed, first at one side\nof his neck, and then at the other. When that was done he asked for a\ndressing-comb, and combed his mane thoroughly. Then he pushed himself on\nto his back, and did his shoulders as far down as he could reach. Then\nhe sat on his croup, and did his back and sides; then he turned around\nlike a monkey, and attacked his hind-quarters, and combed his tail. This\nlast was not so easy to manage, for he had to lift it up, and every now\nand then old Diamond would whisk it out of his hands, and once he sent\nthe comb flying out of the stable door, to the great amusement of the\nmen. But Jack fetched it again, and Diamond began once more, and did not\nleave off until he had done the whole business fairly well, if not in\na first-rate, experienced fashion. All the time the old horse went\non eating his hay, and, but with an occasional whisk of his tail when\nDiamond tickled or scratched him, took no notice of the proceeding.\nBut that was all a pretence, for he knew very well who it was that\nwas perched on his back, and rubbing away at him with the comb and the\nbrush. So he was quite pleased and proud, and perhaps said to himself\nsomething like this--\n\n\"I'm a stupid old horse, who can't brush his own coat; but there's my\nyoung godson on my back, cleaning me like an angel.\"\n\nI won't vouch for what the old horse was thinking, for it is very\ndifficult to find out what any old horse is thinking.\n\n\"Oh dear!\" said Diamond when he had done, \"I'm so tired!\"\n\nAnd he laid himself down at full length on old Diamond's back.\n\nBy this time all the men in the stable were gathered about the two\nDiamonds, and all much amused. One of them lifted him down, and from\nthat time he was a greater favourite than before. And if ever there was\na boy who had a chance of being a prodigy at cab-driving, Diamond was\nthat boy, for the strife came to be who should have him out with him on\nthe box.\n\nHis mother, however, was a little shy of the company for him, and\nbesides she could not always spare him. Also his father liked to have\nhim himself when he could; so that he was more desired than enjoyed\namong the cabmen.\n\nBut one way and another he did learn to drive all sorts of horses, and\nto drive them well, and that through the most crowded streets in London\nCity. Of course there was the man always on the box-seat beside him, but\nbefore long there was seldom the least occasion to take the reins\nfrom out of his hands. For one thing he never got frightened, and\nconsequently was never in too great a hurry. Yet when the moment came\nfor doing something sharp, he was always ready for it. I must once more\nremind my readers that he had been to the back of the north wind.\n\nOne day, which was neither washing-day, nor cleaning-day nor\nmarketing-day, nor Saturday, nor Monday--upon which consequently Diamond\ncould be spared from the baby--his father took him on his own cab. After\na stray job or two by the way, they drew up in the row upon the stand\nbetween Cockspur Street and Pall Mall. They waited a long time, but\nnobody seemed to want to be carried anywhere. By and by ladies would be\ngoing home from the Academy exhibition, and then there would be a chance\nof a job.\n\n\"Though, to be sure,\" said Diamond's father--with what truth I cannot\nsay, but he believed what he said--\"some ladies is very hard, and keeps\nyou to the bare sixpence a mile, when every one knows that ain't enough\nto keep a family and a cab upon. To be sure it's the law; but mayhap\nthey may get more law than they like some day themselves.\"\n\nAs it was very hot, Diamond's father got down to have a glass of beer\nhimself, and give another to the old waterman. He left Diamond on the\nbox.\n\nA sudden noise got up, and Diamond looked round to see what was the\nmatter.\n\nThere was a crossing near the cab-stand, where a girl was sweeping. Some\nrough young imps had picked a quarrel with her, and were now hauling\nat her broom to get it away from her. But as they did not pull all\ntogether, she was holding it against them, scolding and entreating\nalternately.\n\nDiamond was off his box in a moment, and running to the help of the\ngirl. He got hold of the broom at her end and pulled along with her. But\nthe boys proceeded to rougher measures, and one of them hit Diamond on\nthe nose, and made it bleed; and as he could not let go the broom to\nmind his nose, he was soon a dreadful figure. But presently his father\ncame back, and missing Diamond, looked about. He had to look twice,\nhowever, before he could be sure that that was his boy in the middle\nof the tumult. He rushed in, and sent the assailants flying in all\ndirections. The girl thanked Diamond, and began sweeping as if nothing\nhad happened, while his father led him away. With the help of old Tom,\nthe waterman, he was soon washed into decency, and his father set him on\nthe box again, perfectly satisfied with the account he gave of the cause\nof his being in a fray.\n\n\"I couldn't let them behave so to a poor girl--could I, father?\" he\nsaid.\n\n\"Certainly not, Diamond,\" said his father, quite pleased, for Diamond's\nfather was a gentleman.\n\nA moment after, up came the girl, running, with her broom over her\nshoulder, and calling, \"Cab, there! cab!\"\n\nDiamond's father turned instantly, for he was the foremost in the rank,\nand followed the girl. One or two other passing cabs heard the cry, and\nmade for the place, but the girl had taken care not to call till she was\nnear enough to give her friends the first chance. When they reached\nthe curbstone--who should it be waiting for the cab but Mrs. and Miss\nColeman! They did not look at the cabman, however. The girl opened the\ndoor for them; they gave her the address, and a penny; she told the\ncabman, and away they drove.\n\nWhen they reached the house, Diamond's father got down and rang the\nbell. As he opened the door of the cab, he touched his hat as he had\nbeen wont to do. The ladies both stared for a moment, and then exclaimed\ntogether:\n\n\"Why, Joseph! can it be you?\"\n\n\"Yes, ma'am; yes, miss,\" answered he, again touching his hat, with all\nthe respect he could possibly put into the action. \"It's a lucky day\nwhich I see you once more upon it.\"\n\n\"Who would have thought it?\" said Mrs. Coleman. \"It's changed times for\nboth of us, Joseph, and it's not very often we can have a cab even; but\nyou see my daughter is still very poorly, and she can't bear the motion\nof the omnibuses. Indeed we meant to walk a bit first before we took a\ncab, but just at the corner, for as hot as the sun was, a cold wind came\ndown the street, and I saw that Miss Coleman must not face it. But to\nthink we should have fallen upon you, of all the cabmen in London! I\ndidn't know you had got a cab.\"\n\n\"Well, you see, ma'am, I had a chance of buying the old horse, and I\ncouldn't resist him. There he is, looking at you, ma'am. Nobody knows\nthe sense in that head of his.\"\n\nThe two ladies went near to pat the horse, and then they noticed Diamond\non the box.\n\n\"Why, you've got both Diamonds with you,\" said Miss Coleman. \"How do you\ndo, Diamond?\"\n\nDiamond lifted his cap, and answered politely.\n\n\"He'll be fit to drive himself before long,\" said his father, proudly.\n\"The old horse is a-teaching of him.\"\n\n\"Well, he must come and see us, now you've found us out. Where do you\nlive?\"\n\nDiamond's father gave the ladies a ticket with his name and address\nprinted on it; and then Mrs. Coleman took out her purse, saying:\n\n\"And what's your fare, Joseph?\"\n\n\"No, thank you, ma'am,\" said Joseph. \"It was your own old horse as took\nyou; and me you paid long ago.\"\n\nHe jumped on his box before she could say another word, and with a\nparting salute drove off, leaving them on the pavement, with the maid\nholding the door for them.\n\nIt was a long time now since Diamond had seen North Wind, or even\nthought much about her. And as his father drove along, he was thinking\nnot about her, but about the crossing-sweeper, and was wondering what\nmade him feel as if he knew her quite well, when he could not remember\nanything of her. But a picture arose in his mind of a little girl\nrunning before the wind and dragging her broom after her; and from that,\nby degrees, he recalled the whole adventure of the night when he got\ndown from North Wind's back in a London street. But he could not quite\nsatisfy himself whether the whole affair was not a dream which he had\ndreamed when he was a very little boy. Only he had been to the back of\nthe north wind since--there could be no doubt of that; for when he woke\nevery morning, he always knew that he had been there again. And as he\nthought and thought, he recalled another thing that had happened that\nmorning, which, although it seemed a mere accident, might have something\nto do with what had happened since. His father had intended going on the\nstand at King's Cross that morning, and had turned into Gray's Inn Lane\nto drive there, when they found the way blocked up, and upon inquiry\nwere informed that a stack of chimneys had been blown down in the night,\nand had fallen across the road. They were just clearing the rubbish\naway. Diamond's father turned, and made for Charing Cross.\n\nThat night the father and mother had a great deal to talk about.\n\n\"Poor things!\" said the mother. \"it's worse for them than it is for us.\nYou see they've been used to such grand things, and for them to come\ndown to a little poky house like that--it breaks my heart to think of\nit.\"\n\n\"I don't know\" said Diamond thoughtfully, \"whether Mrs. Coleman had\nbells on her toes.\"\n\n\"What do you mean, child?\" said his mother.\n\n\"She had rings on her fingers, anyhow,\" returned Diamond.\n\n\"Of course she had, as any lady would. What has that to do with it?\"\n\n\"When we were down at Sandwich,\" said Diamond, \"you said you would have\nto part with your mother's ring, now we were poor.\"\n\n\"Bless the child; he forgets nothing,\" said his mother. \"Really,\nDiamond, a body would need to mind what they say to you.\"\n\n\"Why?\" said Diamond. \"I only think about it.\"\n\n\"That's just why,\" said the mother.\n\n\"Why is that why?\" persisted Diamond, for he had not yet learned that\ngrown-up people are not often so much grown up that they never talk like\nchildren--and spoilt ones too.\n\n\"Mrs. Coleman is none so poor as all that yet. No, thank Heaven! she's\nnot come to that.\"\n\n\"Is it a great disgrace to be poor?\" asked Diamond, because of the tone\nin which his mother had spoken.\n\nBut his mother, whether conscience-stricken I do not know hurried him\naway to bed, where after various attempts to understand her, resumed and\nresumed again in spite of invading sleep, he was conquered at last, and\ngave in, murmuring over and over to himself, \"Why is why?\" but getting\nno answer to the question.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII. THE DRUNKEN CABMAN\n\n\nA FEW nights after this, Diamond woke up suddenly, believing he heard\nNorth Wind thundering along. But it was something quite different. South\nWind was moaning round the chimneys, to be sure, for she was not very\nhappy that night, but it was not her voice that had wakened Diamond. Her\nvoice would only have lulled him the deeper asleep. It was a loud, angry\nvoice, now growling like that of a beast, now raving like that of a\nmadman; and when Diamond came a little wider awake, he knew that it was\nthe voice of the drunken cabman, the wall of whose room was at the head\nof his bed. It was anything but pleasant to hear, but he could not help\nhearing it. At length there came a cry from the woman, and then a scream\nfrom the baby. Thereupon Diamond thought it time that somebody did\nsomething, and as himself was the only somebody at hand, he must go and\nsee whether he could not do something. So he got up and put on part of\nhis clothes, and went down the stair, for the cabman's room did not open\nupon their stair, and he had to go out into the yard, and in at the next\ndoor. This, fortunately, the cabman, being drunk, had left open. By\nthe time he reached their stair, all was still except the voice of the\ncrying baby, which guided him to the right door. He opened it softly,\nand peeped in. There, leaning back in a chair, with his arms hanging\ndown by his sides, and his legs stretched out before him and supported\non his heels, sat the drunken cabman. His wife lay in her clothes upon\nthe bed, sobbing, and the baby was wailing in the cradle. It was very\nmiserable altogether.\n\nNow the way most people do when they see anything very miserable is to\nturn away from the sight, and try to forget it. But Diamond began as\nusual to try to destroy the misery. The little boy was just as much one\nof God's messengers as if he had been an angel with a flaming sword,\ngoing out to fight the devil. The devil he had to fight just then\nwas Misery. And the way he fought him was the very best. Like a wise\nsoldier, he attacked him first in his weakest point--that was the baby;\nfor Misery can never get such a hold of a baby as of a grown person.\nDiamond was knowing in babies, and he knew he could do something to make\nthe baby, happy; for although he had only known one baby as yet, and\nalthough not one baby is the same as another, yet they are so very much\nalike in some things, and he knew that one baby so thoroughly, that he\nhad good reason to believe he could do something for any other. I have\nknown people who would have begun to fight the devil in a very different\nand a very stupid way. They would have begun by scolding the idiotic\ncabman; and next they would make his wife angry by saying it must be her\nfault as well as his, and by leaving ill-bred though well-meant shabby\nlittle books for them to read, which they were sure to hate the sight\nof; while all the time they would not have put out a finger to touch the\nwailing baby. But Diamond had him out of the cradle in a moment, set\nhim up on his knee, and told him to look at the light. Now all the light\nthere was came only from a lamp in the yard, and it was a very dingy and\nyellow light, for the glass of the lamp was dirty, and the gas was bad;\nbut the light that came from it was, notwithstanding, as certainly\nlight as if it had come from the sun itself, and the baby knew that, and\nsmiled to it; and although it was indeed a wretched room which that lamp\nlighted--so dreary, and dirty, and empty, and hopeless!--there in the\nmiddle of it sat Diamond on a stool, smiling to the baby, and the baby\non his knees smiling to the lamp. The father of him sat staring at\nnothing, neither asleep nor awake, not quite lost in stupidity either,\nfor through it all he was dimly angry with himself, he did not know\nwhy. It was that he had struck his wife. He had forgotten it, but was\nmiserable about it, notwithstanding. And this misery was the voice of\nthe great Love that had made him and his wife and the baby and Diamond,\nspeaking in his heart, and telling him to be good. For that great Love\nspeaks in the most wretched and dirty hearts; only the tone of its voice\ndepends on the echoes of the place in which it sounds. On Mount Sinai,\nit was thunder; in the cabman's heart it was misery; in the soul of St.\nJohn it was perfect blessedness.\n\nBy and by he became aware that there was a voice of singing in the room.\nThis, of course, was the voice of Diamond singing to the baby--song\nafter song, every one as foolish as another to the cabman, for he was\ntoo tipsy to part one word from another: all the words mixed up in his\near in a gurgle without division or stop; for such was the way he spoke\nhimself, when he was in this horrid condition. But the baby was more\nthan content with Diamond's songs, and Diamond himself was so contented\nwith what the songs were all about, that he did not care a bit about the\nsongs themselves, if only baby liked them. But they did the cabman good\nas well as the baby and Diamond, for they put him to sleep, and the\nsleep was busy all the time it lasted, smoothing the wrinkles out of his\ntemper.\n\nAt length Diamond grew tired of singing, and began to talk to the baby\ninstead. And as soon as he stopped singing, the cabman began to wake up.\nHis brain was a little clearer now, his temper a little smoother,\nand his heart not quite so dirty. He began to listen and he went on\nlistening, and heard Diamond saying to the baby something like this, for\nhe thought the cabman was asleep:\n\n\"Poor daddy! Baby's daddy takes too much beer and gin, and that makes\nhim somebody else, and not his own self at all. Baby's daddy would never\nhit baby's mammy if he didn't take too much beer. He's very fond of\nbaby's mammy, and works from morning to night to get her breakfast and\ndinner and supper, only at night he forgets, and pays the money away for\nbeer. And they put nasty stuff in beer, I've heard my daddy say, that\ndrives all the good out, and lets all the bad in. Daddy says when a man\ntakes a drink, there's a thirsty devil creeps into his inside, because\nhe knows he will always get enough there. And the devil is always crying\nout for more drink, and that makes the man thirsty, and so he drinks\nmore and more, till he kills himself with it. And then the ugly devil\ncreeps out of him, and crawls about on his belly, looking for some other\ncabman to get into, that he may drink, drink, drink. That's what my\ndaddy says, baby. And he says, too, the only way to make the devil come\nout is to give him plenty of cold water and tea and coffee, and nothing\nat all that comes from the public-house; for the devil can't abide that\nkind of stuff, and creeps out pretty soon, for fear of being drowned\nin it. But your daddy will drink the nasty stuff, poor man! I wish he\nwouldn't, for it makes mammy cross with him, and no wonder! and then\nwhen mammy's cross, he's crosser, and there's nobody in the house to\ntake care of them but baby; and you do take care of them, baby--don't\nyou, baby? I know you do. Babies always take care of their fathers and\nmothers--don't they, baby? That's what they come for--isn't it, baby?\nAnd when daddy stops drinking beer and nasty gin with turpentine in it,\nfather says, then mammy will be so happy, and look so pretty! and daddy\nwill be so good to baby! and baby will be as happy as a swallow, which\nis the merriest fellow! And Diamond will be so happy too! And when\nDiamond's a man, he'll take baby out with him on the box, and teach him\nto drive a cab.\"\n\nHe went on with chatter like this till baby was asleep, by which time\nhe was tired, and father and mother were both wide awake--only rather\nconfused--the one from the beer, the other from the blow--and staring,\nthe one from his chair, the other from her bed, at Diamond. But he was\nquite unaware of their notice, for he sat half-asleep, with his eyes\nwide open, staring in his turn, though without knowing it, at the\ncabman, while the cabman could not withdraw his gaze from Diamond's\nwhite face and big eyes. For Diamond's face was always rather pale, and\nnow it was paler than usual with sleeplessness, and the light of the\nstreet-lamp upon it. At length he found himself nodding, and he knew\nthen it was time to put the baby down, lest he should let him fall. So\nhe rose from the little three-legged stool, and laid the baby in the\ncradle, and covered him up--it was well it was a warm night, and he did\nnot want much covering--and then he all but staggered out of the door,\nhe was so tipsy himself with sleep.\n\n\"Wife,\" said the cabman, turning towards the bed, \"I do somehow believe\nthat wur a angel just gone. Did you see him, wife? He warn't wery big,\nand he hadn't got none o' them wingses, you know. It wur one o' them\nbaby-angels you sees on the gravestones, you know.\"\n\n\"Nonsense, hubby!\" said his wife; \"but it's just as good. I might say\nbetter, for you can ketch hold of him when you like. That's little\nDiamond as everybody knows, and a duck o' diamonds he is! No woman could\nwish for a better child than he be.\"\n\n\"I ha' heerd on him in the stable, but I never see the brat afore. Come,\nold girl, let bygones be bygones, and gie us a kiss, and we'll go to\nbed.\"\n\nThe cabman kept his cab in another yard, although he had his room in\nthis. He was often late in coming home, and was not one to take notice\nof children, especially when he was tipsy, which was oftener than not.\nHence, if he had ever seen Diamond, he did not know him. But his wife\nknew him well enough, as did every one else who lived all day in the\nyard. She was a good-natured woman. It was she who had got the fire\nlighted and the tea ready for them when Diamond and his mother came home\nfrom Sandwich. And her husband was not an ill-natured man either, and\nwhen in the morning he recalled not only Diamond's visit, but how he\nhimself had behaved to his wife, he was very vexed with himself, and\ngladdened his poor wife's heart by telling her how sorry he was. And for\na whole week after, he did not go near the public-house, hard as it was\nto avoid it, seeing a certain rich brewer had built one, like a trap to\ncatch souls and bodies in, at almost every corner he had to pass on his\nway home. Indeed, he was never quite so bad after that, though it was\nsome time before he began really to reform.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX. DIAMOND'S FRIENDS\n\n\nONE day when old Diamond was standing with his nose in his bag between\nPall Mall and Cockspur Street, and his master was reading the newspaper\non the box of his cab, which was the last of a good many in the row,\nlittle Diamond got down for a run, for his legs were getting cramped\nwith sitting. And first of all he strolled with his hands in his pockets\nup to the crossing, where the girl and her broom were to be found in all\nweathers. Just as he was going to speak to her, a tall gentleman stepped\nupon the crossing. He was pleased to find it so clean, for the streets\nwere muddy, and he had nice boots on; so he put his hand in his pocket,\nand gave the girl a penny. But when she gave him a sweet smile in\nreturn, and made him a pretty courtesy, he looked at her again, and\nsaid:\n\n\"Where do you live, my child?\"\n\n\"Paradise Row,\" she answered; \"next door to the Adam and Eve--down the\narea.\"\n\n\"Whom do you live with?\" he asked.\n\n\"My wicked old grannie,\" she replied.\n\n\"You shouldn't call your grannie wicked,\" said the gentleman.\n\n\"But she is,\" said the girl, looking up confidently in his face. \"If you\ndon't believe me, you can come and take a look at her.\"\n\nThe words sounded rude, but the girl's face looked so simple that\nthe gentleman saw she did not mean to be rude, and became still more\ninterested in her.\n\n\"Still you shouldn't say so,\" he insisted.\n\n\"Shouldn't I? Everybody calls her wicked old grannie--even them that's\nas wicked as her. You should hear her swear. There's nothing like it in\nthe Row. Indeed, I assure you, sir, there's ne'er a one of them can shut\nmy grannie up once she begins and gets right a-going. You must put her\nin a passion first, you know. It's no good till you do that--she's so\nold now. How she do make them laugh, to be sure!\"\n\nAlthough she called her wicked, the child spoke so as plainly to\nindicate pride in her grannie's pre-eminence in swearing.\n\nThe gentleman looked very grave to hear her, for he was sorry that such\na nice little girl should be in such bad keeping. But he did not know\nwhat to say next, and stood for a moment with his eyes on the ground.\nWhen he lifted them, he saw the face of Diamond looking up in his.\n\n\"Please, sir,\" said Diamond, \"her grannie's very cruel to her sometimes,\nand shuts her out in the streets at night, if she happens to be late.\"\n\n\"Is this your brother?\" asked the gentleman of the girl.\n\n\"No, sir.\"\n\n\"How does he know your grandmother, then? He does not look like one of\nher sort.\"\n\n\"Oh no, sir! He's a good boy--quite.\"\n\nHere she tapped her forehead with her finger in a significant manner.\n\n\"What do you mean by that?\" asked the gentleman, while Diamond looked on\nsmiling.\n\n\"The cabbies call him God's baby,\" she whispered. \"He's not right in the\nhead, you know. A tile loose.\"\n\nStill Diamond, though he heard every word, and understood it too, kept\non smiling. What could it matter what people called him, so long as he\ndid nothing he ought not to do? And, besides, God's baby was surely the\nbest of names!\n\n\"Well, my little man, and what can you do?\" asked the gentleman, turning\ntowards him--just for the sake of saying something.\n\n\"Drive a cab,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"Good; and what else?\" he continued; for, accepting what the girl had\nsaid, he regarded the still sweetness of Diamond's face as a sign of\nsilliness, and wished to be kind to the poor little fellow.\n\n\"Nurse a baby,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"Well--and what else?\"\n\n\"Clean father's boots, and make him a bit of toast for his tea.\"\n\n\"You're a useful little man,\" said the gentleman. \"What else can you\ndo?\"\n\n\"Not much that I know of,\" said Diamond. \"I can't curry a horse, except\nsomebody puts me on his back. So I don't count that.\"\n\n\"Can you read?\"\n\n\"No. But mother can and father can, and they're going to teach me some\nday soon.\"\n\n\"Well, here's a penny for you.\"\n\n\"Thank you, sir.\"\n\n\"And when you have learned to read, come to me, and I'll give you\nsixpence and a book with fine pictures in it.\"\n\n\"Please, sir, where am I to come?\" asked Diamond, who was too much a\nman of the world not to know that he must have the gentleman's address\nbefore he could go and see him.\n\n\"You're no such silly!\" thought he, as he put his hand in his pocket,\nand brought out a card. \"There,\" he said, \"your father will be able to\nread that, and tell you where to go.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,\" said Diamond, and put the card in his\npocket.\n\nThe gentleman walked away, but turning round a few paces off, saw\nDiamond give his penny to the girl, and, walking slower heard him say:\n\n\"I've got a father, and mother, and little brother, and you've got\nnothing but a wicked old grannie. You may have my penny.\"\n\nThe girl put it beside the other in her pocket, the only trustworthy\narticle of dress she wore. Her grandmother always took care that she had\na stout pocket.\n\n\"Is she as cruel as ever?\" asked Diamond.\n\n\"Much the same. But I gets more coppers now than I used to, and I can\nget summats to eat, and take browns enough home besides to keep her from\ngrumbling. It's a good thing she's so blind, though.\"\n\n\"Why?\" asked Diamond.\n\n\"'Cause if she was as sharp in the eyes as she used to be, she would\nfind out I never eats her broken wittles, and then she'd know as I must\nget something somewheres.\"\n\n\"Doesn't she watch you, then?\"\n\n\"O' course she do. Don't she just! But I make believe and drop it in my\nlap, and then hitch it into my pocket.\"\n\n\"What would she do if she found you out?\"\n\n\"She never give me no more.\"\n\n\"But you don't want it!\"\n\n\"Yes, I do want it.\"\n\n\"What do you do with it, then?\"\n\n\"Give it to cripple Jim.\"\n\n\"Who's cripple Jim?\"\n\n\"A boy in the Row. His mother broke his leg when he wur a kid, so he's\nnever come to much; but he's a good boy, is Jim, and I love Jim dearly.\nI always keeps off a penny for Jim--leastways as often as I can.--But\nthere I must sweep again, for them busses makes no end o' dirt.\"\n\n\"Diamond! Diamond!\" cried his father, who was afraid he might get no\ngood by talking to the girl; and Diamond obeyed, and got up again\nupon the box. He told his father about the gentleman, and what he had\npromised him if he would learn to read, and showed him the gentleman's\ncard.\n\n\"Why, it's not many doors from the Mews!\" said his father, giving him\nback the card. \"Take care of it, my boy, for it may lead to something.\nGod knows, in these hard times a man wants as many friends as he's ever\nlikely to get.\"\n\n\"Haven't you got friends enough, father?\" asked Diamond.\n\n\"Well, I have no right to complain; but the more the better, you know.\"\n\n\"Just let me count,\" said Diamond.\n\nAnd he took his hands from his pockets, and spreading out the fingers of\nhis left hand, began to count, beginning at the thumb.\n\n\"There's mother, first, and then baby, and then me. Next there's old\nDiamond--and the cab--no, I won't count the cab, for it never looks at\nyou, and when Diamond's out of the shafts, it's nobody. Then there's the\nman that drinks next door, and his wife, and his baby.\"\n\n\"They're no friends of mine,\" said his father.\n\n\"Well, they're friends of mine,\" said Diamond.\n\nHis father laughed.\n\n\"Much good they'll do you!\" he said.\n\n\"How do you know they won't?\" returned Diamond.\n\n\"Well, go on,\" said his father.\n\n\"Then there's Jack and Mr. Stonecrop, and, deary me! not to have\nmentioned Mr. Coleman and Mrs. Coleman, and Miss Coleman, and Mrs.\nCrump. And then there's the clergyman that spoke to me in the garden\nthat day the tree was blown down.\"\n\n\"What's his name!\"\n\n\"I don't know his name.\"\n\n\"Where does he live?\"\n\n\"I don't know.\"\n\n\"How can you count him, then?\"\n\n\"He did talk to me, and very kindlike too.\"\n\nHis father laughed again.\n\n\"Why, child, you're just counting everybody you know. That don't make\n'em friends.\"\n\n\"Don't it? I thought it did. Well, but they shall be my friends. I shall\nmake 'em.\"\n\n\"How will you do that?\"\n\n\"They can't help themselves then, if they would. If I choose to be their\nfriend, you know, they can't prevent me. Then there's that girl at the\ncrossing.\"\n\n\"A fine set of friends you do have, to be sure, Diamond!\"\n\n\"Surely she's a friend anyhow, father. If it hadn't been for her, you\nwould never have got Mrs. Coleman and Miss Coleman to carry home.\"\n\nHis father was silent, for he saw that Diamond was right, and was\nashamed to find himself more ungrateful than he had thought.\n\n\"Then there's the new gentleman,\" Diamond went on.\n\n\"If he do as he say,\" interposed his father.\n\n\"And why shouldn't he? I daresay sixpence ain't too much for him to\nspare. But I don't quite understand, father: is nobody your friend but\nthe one that does something for you?\"\n\n\"No, I won't say that, my boy. You would have to leave out baby then.\"\n\n\"Oh no, I shouldn't. Baby can laugh in your face, and crow in your ears,\nand make you feel so happy. Call you that nothing, father?\"\n\nThe father's heart was fairly touched now. He made no answer to this\nlast appeal, and Diamond ended off with saying:\n\n\"And there's the best of mine to come yet--and that's you, daddy--except\nit be mother, you know. You're my friend, daddy, ain't you? And I'm your\nfriend, ain't I?\"\n\n\"And God for us all,\" said his father, and then they were both silent\nfor that was very solemn.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX. DIAMOND LEARNS TO READ\n\n\nTHE question of the tall gentleman as to whether Diamond could read or\nnot set his father thinking it was high time he could; and as soon as\nold Diamond was suppered and bedded, he began the task that very night.\nBut it was not much of a task to Diamond, for his father took for his\nlesson-book those very rhymes his mother had picked up on the sea-shore;\nand as Diamond was not beginning too soon, he learned very fast indeed.\nWithin a month he was able to spell out most of the verses for himself.\n\nBut he had never come upon the poem he thought he had heard his mother\nread from it that day. He had looked through and through the book\nseveral times after he knew the letters and a few words, fancying he\ncould tell the look of it, but had always failed to find one more like\nit than another. So he wisely gave up the search till he could really\nread. Then he resolved to begin at the beginning, and read them all\nstraight through. This took him nearly a fortnight. When he had almost\nreached the end, he came upon the following verses, which took his fancy\nmuch, although they were certainly not very like those he was in search\nof.\n\n\nLITTLE BOY BLUE\n\n            Little Boy Blue lost his way in a wood.\n               Sing apples and cherries, roses and honey;\n            He said, \"I would not go back if I could,\n               It's all so jolly and funny.\"\n\n            He sang, \"This wood is all my own,\n               Apples and cherries, roses and honey;\n            So here I'll sit, like a king on my throne,\n               All so jolly and funny.\"\n\n            A little snake crept out of the tree,\n               Apples and cherries, roses and honey;\n            \"Lie down at my feet, little snake,\" said he,\n               All so jolly and funny.\n\n            A little bird sang in the tree overhead,\n               Apples and cherries, roses and honey;\n            \"Come and sing your song on my finger instead,\n               All so jolly and funny.\"\n\n            The snake coiled up; and the bird flew down,\n            And sang him the song of Birdie Brown.\n\n            Little Boy Blue found it tiresome to sit,\n            And he thought he had better walk on a bit.\n\n            So up he got, his way to take,\n            And he said, \"Come along, little bird and snake.\"\n\n            And waves of snake o'er the damp leaves passed,\n            And the snake went first and Birdie Brown last;\n\n            By Boy Blue's head, with flutter and dart,\n            Flew Birdie Brown with its song in its heart.\n\n            He came where the apples grew red and sweet:\n            \"Tree, drop me an apple down at my feet.\"\n\n            He came where the cherries hung plump and red:\n            \"Come to my mouth, sweet kisses,\" he said.\n\n            And the boughs bow down, and the apples they dapple\n            The grass, too many for him to grapple.\n\n            And the cheeriest cherries, with never a miss,\n            Fall to his mouth, each a full-grown kiss.\n\n            He met a little brook singing a song.\n            He said, \"Little brook, you are going wrong.\n\n            \"You must follow me, follow me, follow, I say\n            Do as I tell you, and come this way.\"\n\n            And the song-singing, sing-songing forest brook\n            Leaped from its bed and after him took,\n\n            Followed him, followed.  And pale and wan,\n            The dead leaves rustled as the water ran.\n\n            And every bird high up on the bough,\n            And every creature low down below,\n\n            He called, and the creatures obeyed the call,\n            Took their legs and their wings and followed him all;\n\n            Squirrels that carried their tails like a sack,\n            Each on his own little humpy brown back;\n\n            Householder snails, and slugs all tails,\n            And butterflies, flutterbies, ships all sails;\n\n            And weasels, and ousels, and mice, and larks,\n            And owls, and rere-mice, and harkydarks,\n\n            All went running, and creeping, and flowing,\n            After the merry boy fluttering and going;\n\n            The dappled fawns fawning, the fallow-deer following,\n            The swallows and flies, flying and swallowing;\n\n            Cockchafers, henchafers, cockioli-birds,\n            Cockroaches, henroaches, cuckoos in herds.\n\n            The spider forgot and followed him spinning,\n            And lost all his thread from end to beginning.\n\n            The gay wasp forgot his rings and his waist,\n            He never had made such undignified haste.\n\n            The dragon-flies melted to mist with their hurrying.\n            The mole in his moleskins left his barrowing burrowing.\n\n            The bees went buzzing, so busy and beesy,\n            And the midges in columns so upright and easy.\n\n            But Little Boy Blue was not content,\n            Calling for followers still as he went,\n\n            Blowing his horn, and beating his drum,\n            And crying aloud, \"Come all of you, come!\"\n\n            He said to the shadows, \"Come after me;\"\n            And the shadows began to flicker and flee,\n\n            And they flew through the wood all flattering and fluttering,\n            Over the dead leaves flickering and muttering.\n\n            And he said to the wind, \"Come, follow; come, follow,\n            With whistle and pipe, and rustle and hollo.\"\n\n            And the wind wound round at his desire,\n            As if he had been the gold cock on the spire.\n\n            And the cock itself flew down from the church,\n            And left the farmers all in the lurch.\n\n            They run and they fly, they creep and they come,\n            Everything, everything, all and some.\n\n            The very trees they tugged at their roots,\n            Only their feet were too fast in their boots,\n\n            After him leaning and straining and bending,\n            As on through their boles he kept walking and wending,\n\n            Till out of the wood he burst on a lea,\n            Shouting and calling, \"Come after me!\"\n\n            And then they rose up with a leafy hiss,\n            And stood as if nothing had been amiss.\n\n            Little Boy Blue sat down on a stone,\n            And the creatures came round him every one.\n\n            And he said to the clouds, \"I want you there.\"\n            And down they sank through the thin blue air.\n\n            And he said to the sunset far in the West,\n            \"Come here; I want you; I know best.\"\n\n            And the sunset came and stood up on the wold,\n            And burned and glowed in purple and gold.\n\n            Then Little Boy Blue began to ponder:\n            \"What's to be done with them all, I wonder.\"\n\n            Then Little Boy Blue, he said, quite low,\n            \"What to do with you all I am sure I don't know.\"\n\n            Then the clouds clodded down till dismal it grew;\n            The snake sneaked close; round Birdie Brown flew;\n\n            The brook sat up like a snake on its tail;\n            And the wind came up with a what-will-you wail;\n\n            And all the creatures sat and stared;\n            The mole opened his very eyes and glared;\n\n            And for rats and bats and the world and his wife,\n            Little Boy Blue was afraid of his life.\n\n            Then Birdie Brown began to sing,\n            And what he sang was the very thing:\n\n            \"You have brought us all hither, Little Boy Blue,\n            Pray what do you want us all to do?\"\n\n            \"Go away!  go away!\" said Little Boy Blue;\n            \"I'm sure I don't want you--get away--do.\"\n\n            \"No, no; no, no; no, yes, and no, no,\"\n            Sang Birdie Brown, \"it mustn't be so.\n\n            \"We cannot for nothing come here, and away.\n            Give us some work, or else we stay.\"\n\n            \"Oh dear! and oh dear!\" with sob and with sigh,\n            Said Little Boy Blue, and began to cry.\n\n            But before he got far, he thought of a thing;\n            And up he stood, and spoke like a king.\n\n            \"Why do you hustle and jostle and bother?\n            Off with you all!  Take me back to my mother.\"\n\n            The sunset stood at the gates of the west.\n            \"Follow me, follow me\" came from Birdie Brown's breast.\n\n            \"I am going that way as fast as I can,\"\n            Said the brook, as it sank and turned and ran.\n\n            Back to the woods fled the shadows like ghosts:\n            \"If we stay, we shall all be missed from our posts.\"\n\n            Said the wind with a voice that had changed its cheer,\n            \"I was just going there, when you brought me here.\"\n\n            \"That's where I live,\" said the sack-backed squirrel,\n            And he turned his sack with a swing and a swirl.\n\n            Said the cock of the spire, \"His father's churchwarden.\"\n            Said the brook running faster, \"I run through his garden.\"\n\n            Said the mole, \"Two hundred worms--there I caught 'em\n            Last year, and I'm going again next autumn.\"\n\n            Said they all, \"If that's where you want us to steer for,\n            What in earth or in water did you bring us here for?\"\n\n            \"Never you mind,\" said Little Boy Blue;\n            \"That's what I tell you.  If that you won't do,\n\n            \"I'll get up at once, and go home without you.\n            I think I will; I begin to doubt you.\"\n\n            He rose; and up rose the snake on its tail,\n            And hissed three times, half a hiss, half a wail.\n\n            Little Boy Blue he tried to go past him;\n            But wherever he turned, sat the snake and faced him.\n\n            \"If you don't get out of my way,\" he said,\n            \"I tell you, snake, I will break your head.\"\n\n            The snake he neither would go nor come;\n            So he hit him hard with the stick of his drum.\n\n            The snake fell down as if he were dead,\n            And Little Boy Blue set his foot on his head.\n\n            And all the creatures they marched before him,\n            And marshalled him home with a high cockolorum.\n\n            And Birdie Brown sang Twirrrr twitter twirrrr twee--\n            Apples and cherries, roses and honey;\n            Little Boy Blue has listened to me--\n            All so jolly and funny.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI. SAL'S NANNY\n\n\nDIAMOND managed with many blunders to read this rhyme to his mother.\n\n\"Isn't it nice, mother?\" he said.\n\n\"Yes, it's pretty,\" she answered.\n\n\"I think it means something,\" returned Diamond.\n\n\"I'm sure I don't know what,\" she said.\n\n\"I wonder if it's the same boy--yes, it must be the same--Little Boy\nBlue, you know. Let me see--how does that rhyme go?\n\nLittle Boy Blue, come blow me your horn--\n\nYes, of course it is--for this one went `blowing his horn and beating\nhis drum.' He had a drum too.\n\n            Little Boy Blue, come blow me your horn;\n            The sheep's in the meadow, the cow's in the corn,\n\nHe had to keep them out, you know. But he wasn't minding his work. It\ngoes--\n\n            Where's the little boy that looks after the sheep?\n            He's under the haystack, fast asleep.\n\nThere, you see, mother! And then, let me see--\n\n            Who'll go and wake him?  No, not I;\n            For if I do, he'll be sure to cry.\n\nSo I suppose nobody did wake him. He was a rather cross little boy,\nI daresay, when woke up. And when he did wake of himself, and saw the\nmischief the cow had done to the corn, instead of running home to his\nmother, he ran away into the wood and lost himself. Don't you think\nthat's very likely, mother?\"\n\n\"I shouldn't wonder,\" she answered.\n\n\"So you see he was naughty; for even when he lost himself he did not\nwant to go home. Any of the creatures would have shown him the way if he\nhad asked it--all but the snake. He followed the snake, you know, and he\ntook him farther away. I suppose it was a young one of the same serpent\nthat tempted Adam and Eve. Father was telling us about it last Sunday,\nyou remember.\"\n\n\"Bless the child!\" said his mother to herself; and then added aloud,\nfinding that Diamond did not go on, \"Well, what next?\"\n\n\"I don't know, mother. I'm sure there's a great deal more, but what it\nis I can't say. I only know that he killed the snake. I suppose that's\nwhat he had a drumstick for. He couldn't do it with his horn.\"\n\n\"But surely you're not such a silly as to take it all for true,\nDiamond?\"\n\n\"I think it must be. It looks true. That killing of the snake looks\ntrue. It's what I've got to do so often.\"\n\nHis mother looked uneasy. Diamond smiled full in her face, and added--\n\n\"When baby cries and won't be happy, and when father and you talk about\nyour troubles, I mean.\"\n\nThis did little to reassure his mother; and lest my reader should have\nhis qualms about it too, I venture to remind him once more that Diamond\nhad been to the back of the north wind.\n\nFinding she made no reply, Diamond went on--\n\n\"In a week or so, I shall be able to go to the tall gentleman and tell\nhim I can read. And I'll ask him if he can help me to understand the\nrhyme.\"\n\nBut before the week was out, he had another reason for going to Mr.\nRaymond.\n\nFor three days, on each of which, at one time or other, Diamond's father\nwas on the same stand near the National Gallery, the girl was not at her\ncrossing, and Diamond got quite anxious about her, fearing she must be\nill. On the fourth day, not seeing her yet, he said to his father, who\nhad that moment shut the door of his cab upon a fare--\n\n\"Father, I want to go and look after the girl, She can't be well.\"\n\n\"All right,\" said his father. \"Only take care of yourself, Diamond.\"\n\nSo saying he climbed on his box and drove off.\n\nHe had great confidence in his boy, you see, and would trust him\nanywhere. But if he had known the kind of place in which the girl lived,\nhe would perhaps have thought twice before he allowed him to go alone.\nDiamond, who did know something of it, had not, however, any fear. From\ntalking to the girl he had a good notion of where about it was, and he\nremembered the address well enough; so by asking his way some twenty\ntimes, mostly of policemen, he came at length pretty near the place. The\nlast policeman he questioned looked down upon him from the summit of six\nfeet two inches, and replied with another question, but kindly:\n\n\"What do you want there, my small kid? It ain't where you was bred, I\nguess.\"\n\n\"No sir\" answered Diamond. \"I live in Bloomsbury.\"\n\n\"That's a long way off,\" said the policeman.\n\n\"Yes, it's a good distance,\" answered Diamond; \"but I find my way about\npretty well. Policemen are always kind to me.\"\n\n\"But what on earth do you want here?\"\n\nDiamond told him plainly what he was about, and of course the man\nbelieved him, for nobody ever disbelieved Diamond. People might think he\nwas mistaken, but they never thought he was telling a story.\n\n\"It's an ugly place,\" said the policeman.\n\n\"Is it far off?\" asked Diamond.\n\n\"No. It's next door almost. But it's not safe.\"\n\n\"Nobody hurts me,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"I must go with you, I suppose.\"\n\n\"Oh, no! please not,\" said Diamond. \"They might think I was going to\nmeddle with them, and I ain't, you know.\"\n\n\"Well, do as you please,\" said the man, and gave him full directions.\n\nDiamond set off, never suspecting that the policeman, who was a\nkind-hearted man, with children of his own, was following him close, and\nwatching him round every corner. As he went on, all at once he thought\nhe remembered the place, and whether it really was so, or only that\nhe had laid up the policeman's instructions well in his mind, he went\nstraight for the cellar of old Sal.\n\n\"He's a sharp little kid, anyhow, for as simple as he looks,\" said the\nman to himself. \"Not a wrong turn does he take! But old Sal's a rum un\nfor such a child to pay a morning visit to. She's worse when she's sober\nthan when she's half drunk. I've seen her when she'd have torn him in\npieces.\"\n\nHappily then for Diamond, old Sal had gone out to get some gin. When\nhe came to her door at the bottom of the area-stair and knocked, he\nreceived no answer. He laid his ear to the door, and thought he heard\na moaning within. So he tried the door, and found it was not locked! It\nwas a dreary place indeed,--and very dark, for the window was below the\nlevel of the street, and covered with mud, while over the grating which\nkept people from falling into the area, stood a chest of drawers, placed\nthere by a dealer in second-hand furniture, which shut out almost all\nthe light. And the smell in the place was dreadful. Diamond stood still\nfor a while, for he could see next to nothing, but he heard the moaning\nplainly enough now, When he got used to the darkness, he discovered his\nfriend lying with closed eyes and a white suffering face on a heap of\nlittle better than rags in a corner of the den. He went up to her and\nspoke; but she made him no answer. Indeed, she was not in the least\naware of his presence, and Diamond saw that he could do nothing for her\nwithout help. So taking a lump of barley-sugar from his pocket, which he\nhad bought for her as he came along, and laying it beside her, he\nleft the place, having already made up his mind to go and see the tall\ngentleman, Mr. Raymond, and ask him to do something for Sal's Nanny, as\nthe girl was called.\n\nBy the time he got up the area-steps, three or four women who had seen\nhim go down were standing together at the top waiting for him. They\nwanted his clothes for their children; but they did not follow him down\nlest Sal should find them there. The moment he appeared, they laid their\nhands on him, and all began talking at once, for each wanted to get some\nadvantage over her neighbours. He told them quite quietly, for he was\nnot frightened, that he had come to see what was the matter with Nanny.\n\n\"What do you know about Nanny?\" said one of them fiercely. \"Wait till\nold Sal comes home, and you'll catch it, for going prying into her house\nwhen she's out. If you don't give me your jacket directly, I'll go and\nfetch her.\"\n\n\"I can't give you my jacket,\" said Diamond. \"It belongs to my father and\nmother, you know. It's not mine to give. Is it now? You would not think\nit right to give away what wasn't yours--would you now?\"\n\n\"Give it away! No, that I wouldn't; I'd keep it,\" she said, with a rough\nlaugh. \"But if the jacket ain't yours, what right have you to keep it?\nHere, Cherry, make haste. It'll be one go apiece.\"\n\nThey all began to tug at the jacket, while Diamond stooped and kept his\narms bent to resist them. Before they had done him or the jacket any\nharm, however, suddenly they all scampered away; and Diamond, looking in\nthe opposite direction, saw the tall policeman coming towards him.\n\n\"You had better have let me come with you, little man,\" he said, looking\ndown in Diamond's face, which was flushed with his resistance.\n\n\"You came just in the right time, thank you,\" returned Diamond. \"They've\ndone me no harm.\"\n\n\"They would have if I hadn't been at hand, though.\"\n\n\"Yes; but you were at hand, you know, so they couldn't.\"\n\nPerhaps the answer was deeper in purport than either Diamond or the\npoliceman knew. They walked away together, Diamond telling his new\nfriend how ill poor Nanny was, and that he was going to let the tall\ngentleman know. The policeman put him in the nearest way for Bloomsbury,\nand stepping out in good earnest, Diamond reached Mr. Raymond's door\nin less than an hour. When he asked if he was at home, the servant, in\nreturn, asked what he wanted.\n\n\"I want to tell him something.\"\n\n\"But I can't go and trouble him with such a message as that.\"\n\n\"He told me to come to him--that is, when I could read--and I can.\"\n\n\"How am I to know that?\"\n\nDiamond stared with astonishment for one moment, then answered:\n\n\"Why, I've just told you. That's how you know it.\"\n\nBut this man was made of coarser grain than the policeman, and, instead\nof seeing that Diamond could not tell a lie, he put his answer down as\nimpudence, and saying, \"Do you think I'm going to take your word for\nit?\" shut the door in his face.\n\nDiamond turned and sat down on the doorstep, thinking with himself that\nthe tall gentleman must either come in or come out, and he was therefore\nin the best possible position for finding him. He had not waited long\nbefore the door opened again; but when he looked round, it was only the\nservant once more.\n\n\"Get, away\" he said. \"What are you doing on the doorstep?\"\n\n\"Waiting for Mr. Raymond,\" answered Diamond, getting up.\n\n\"He's not at home.\"\n\n\"Then I'll wait till he comes,\" returned Diamond, sitting down again\nwith a smile.\n\nWhat the man would have done next I do not know, but a step sounded from\nthe hall, and when Diamond looked round yet again, there was the tall\ngentleman.\n\n\"Who's this, John?\" he asked.\n\n\"I don't know, sir. An imperent little boy as will sit on the doorstep.\"\n\n\"Please sir\" said Diamond, \"he told me you weren't at home, and I sat\ndown to wait for you.\"\n\n\"Eh, what!\" said Mr. Raymond. \"John! John! This won't do. Is it a habit\nof yours to turn away my visitors? There'll be some one else to turn\naway, I'm afraid, if I find any more of this kind of thing. Come in, my\nlittle man. I suppose you've come to claim your sixpence?\"\n\n\"No, sir, not that.\"\n\n\"What! can't you read yet?\"\n\n\"Yes, I can now, a little. But I'll come for that next time. I came to\ntell you about Sal's Nanny.\"\n\n\"Who's Sal's Nanny?\"\n\n\"The girl at the crossing you talked to the same day.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes; I remember. What's the matter? Has she got run over?\"\n\nThen Diamond told him all.\n\nNow Mr. Raymond was one of the kindest men in London. He sent at once to\nhave the horse put to the brougham, took Diamond with him, and drove to\nthe Children's Hospital. There he was well known to everybody, for he\nwas not only a large subscriber, but he used to go and tell the children\nstories of an afternoon. One of the doctors promised to go and find\nNanny, and do what could be done--have her brought to the hospital, if\npossible.\n\nThat same night they sent a litter for her, and as she could be of no\nuse to old Sal until she was better, she did not object to having her\nremoved. So she was soon lying in the fever ward--for the first time in\nher life in a nice clean bed. But she knew nothing of the whole affair.\nShe was too ill to know anything.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII. MR. RAYMOND'S RIDDLE\n\n\nMR. RAYMOND took Diamond home with him, stopping at the Mews to tell his\nmother that he would send him back soon. Diamond ran in with the message\nhimself, and when he reappeared he had in his hand the torn and crumpled\nbook which North Wind had given him.\n\n\"Ah! I see,\" said Mr. Raymond: \"you are going to claim your sixpence\nnow.\"\n\n\"I wasn't thinking of that so much as of another thing,\" said Diamond.\n\"There's a rhyme in this book I can't quite understand. I want you to\ntell me what it means, if you please.\"\n\n\"I will if I can,\" answered Mr. Raymond. \"You shall read it to me when\nwe get home, and then I shall see.\"\n\nStill with a good many blunders, Diamond did read it after a fashion.\nMr. Raymond took the little book and read it over again.\n\nNow Mr. Raymond was a poet himself, and so, although he had never been\nat the back of the north wind, he was able to understand the poem pretty\nwell. But before saying anything about it, he read it over aloud, and\nDiamond thought he understood it much better already.\n\n\"I'll tell you what I think it means,\" he then said. \"It means that\npeople may have their way for a while, if they like, but it will get\nthem into such troubles they'll wish they hadn't had it.\"\n\n\"I know, I know!\" said Diamond. \"Like the poor cabman next door. He\ndrinks too much.\"\n\n\"Just so,\" returned Mr. Raymond. \"But when people want to do right,\nthings about them will try to help them. Only they must kill the snake,\nyou know.\"\n\n\"I was sure the snake had something to do with it,\" cried Diamond\ntriumphantly.\n\nA good deal more talk followed, and Mr. Raymond gave Diamond his\nsixpence.\n\n\"What will you do with it?\" he asked.\n\n\"Take it home to my mother,\" he answered. \"She has a teapot--such a\nblack one!--with a broken spout, and she keeps all her money in it. It\nain't much; but she saves it up to buy shoes for me. And there's baby\ncoming on famously, and he'll want shoes soon. And every sixpence is\nsomething--ain't it, sir?\"\n\n\"To be sure, my man. I hope you'll always make as good a use of your\nmoney.\"\n\n\"I hope so, sir,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"And here's a book for you, full of pictures and stories and poems. I\nwrote it myself, chiefly for the children of the hospital where I hope\nNanny is going. I don't mean I printed it, you know. I made it,\" added\nMr. Raymond, wishing Diamond to understand that he was the author of the\nbook.\n\n\"I know what you mean. I make songs myself. They're awfully silly, but\nthey please baby, and that's all they're meant for.\"\n\n\"Couldn't you let me hear one of them now?\" said Mr. Raymond.\n\n\"No, sir, I couldn't. I forget them as soon as I've done with them.\nBesides, I couldn't make a line without baby on my knee. We make them\ntogether, you know. They're just as much baby's as mine. It's he that\npulls them out of me.\"\n\n\"I suspect the child's a genius,\" said the poet to himself, \"and that's\nwhat makes people think him silly.\"\n\nNow if any of my child readers want to know what a genius is--shall\nI try to tell them, or shall I not? I will give them one very short\nanswer: it means one who understands things without any other body\ntelling him what they mean. God makes a few such now and then to teach\nthe rest of us.\n\n\"Do you like riddles?\" asked Mr. Raymond, turning over the leaves of his\nown book.\n\n\"I don't know what a riddle is,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"It's something that means something else, and you've got to find out\nwhat the something else is.\"\n\nMr. Raymond liked the old-fashioned riddle best, and had written a\nfew--one of which he now read.\n\n            I have only one foot, but thousands of toes;\n            My one foot stands, but never goes.\n            I have many arms, and they're mighty all;\n            And hundreds of fingers, large and small.\n            From the ends of my fingers my beauty grows.\n            I breathe with my hair, and I drink with my toes.\n            I grow bigger and bigger about the waist,\n            And yet I am always very tight laced.\n            None e'er saw me eat--I've no mouth to bite;\n            Yet I eat all day in the full sunlight.\n            In the summer with song I shave and quiver,\n            But in winter I fast and groan and shiver.\n\n\n\"Do you know what that means, Diamond?\" he asked, when he had finished.\n\n\"No, indeed, I don't,\" answered Diamond.\n\n\"Then you can read it for yourself, and think over it, and see if you\ncan find out,\" said Mr. Raymond, giving him the book. \"And now you had\nbetter go home to your mother. When you've found the riddle, you can\ncome again.\"\n\nIf Diamond had had to find out the riddle in order to see Mr. Raymond\nagain, I doubt if he would ever have seen him.\n\n\"Oh then,\" I think I hear some little reader say, \"he could not have\nbeen a genius, for a genius finds out things without being told.\"\n\nI answer, \"Genius finds out truths, not tricks.\" And if you do not\nunderstand that, I am afraid you must be content to wait till you grow\nolder and know more.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII. THE EARLY BIRD\n\n\nWHEN Diamond got home he found his father at home already, sitting by\nthe fire and looking rather miserable, for his head ached and he felt\nsick. He had been doing night work of late, and it had not agreed with\nhim, so he had given it up, but not in time, for he had taken some\nkind of fever. The next day he was forced to keep his bed, and his wife\nnursed him, and Diamond attended to the baby. If he had not been ill,\nit would have been delightful to have him at home; and the first day\nDiamond sang more songs than ever to the baby, and his father listened\nwith some pleasure. But the next he could not bear even Diamond's sweet\nvoice, and was very ill indeed; so Diamond took the baby into his own\nroom, and had no end of quiet games with him there. If he did pull\nall his bedding on the floor, it did not matter, for he kept baby very\nquiet, and made the bed himself again, and slept in it with baby all the\nnext night, and many nights after.\n\nBut long before his father got well, his mother's savings were all but\ngone. She did not say a word about it in the hearing of her husband,\nlest she should distress him; and one night, when she could not help\ncrying, she came into Diamond's room that his father might not hear\nher. She thought Diamond was asleep, but he was not. When he heard her\nsobbing, he was frightened, and said--\n\n\"Is father worse, mother?\"\n\n\"No, Diamond,\" she answered, as well as she could; \"he's a good bit\nbetter.\"\n\n\"Then what are you crying for, mother?\"\n\n\"Because my money is almost all gone,\" she replied.\n\n\"O mammy, you make me think of a little poem baby and I learned out of\nNorth Wind's book to-day. Don't you remember how I bothered you about\nsome of the words?\"\n\n\"Yes, child,\" said his mother heedlessly, thinking only of what she\nshould do after to-morrow.\n\nDiamond began and repeated the poem, for he had a wonderful memory.\n\n            A little bird sat on the edge of her nest;\n               Her yellow-beaks slept as sound as tops;\n            That day she had done her very best,\n               And had filled every one of their little crops.\n            She had filled her own just over-full,\n               And hence she was feeling a little dull.\n\n            \"Oh, dear!\" she sighed, as she sat with her head\n               Sunk in her chest, and no neck at all,\n            While her crop stuck out like a feather bed\n               Turned inside out, and rather small;\n            \"What shall I do if things don't reform?\n            I don't know where there's a single worm.\n\n            \"I've had twenty to-day, and the children five each,\n               Besides a few flies, and some very fat spiders:\n            No one will say I don't do as I preach--\n               I'm one of the best of bird-providers;\n            But where's the use?  We want a storm--\n               I don't know where there's a single worm.\"\n\n            \"There's five in my crop,\" said a wee, wee bird,\n               Which woke at the voice of his mother's pain;\n            \"I know where there's five.\" And with the word\n               He tucked in his head, and went off again.\n            \"The folly of childhood,\" sighed his mother,\n            \"Has always been my especial bother.\"\n\n            The yellow-beaks they slept on and on--\n               They never had heard of the bogy To-morrow;\n            But the mother sat outside, making her moan--\n               She'll soon have to beg, or steal, or borrow.\n            For she never can tell the night before,\n            Where she shall find one red worm more.\n\n            The fact, as I say, was, she'd had too many;\n               She couldn't sleep, and she called it virtue,\n            Motherly foresight, affection, any\n               Name you may call it that will not hurt you,\n            So it was late ere she tucked her head in,\n            And she slept so late it was almost a sin.\n\n            But the little fellow who knew of five\n               Nor troubled his head about any more,\n            Woke very early, felt quite alive,\n               And wanted a sixth to add to his store:\n            He pushed his mother, the greedy elf,\n            Then thought he had better try for himself.\n\n            When his mother awoke and had rubbed her eyes,\n               Feeling less like a bird, and more like a mole,\n            She saw him--fancy with what surprise--\n               Dragging a huge worm out of a hole!\n            'Twas of this same hero the proverb took form:\n            'Tis the early bird that catches the worm.\n\n\n\"There, mother!\" said Diamond, as he finished; \"ain't it funny?\"\n\n\"I wish you were like that little bird, Diamond, and could catch worms\nfor yourself,\" said his mother, as she rose to go and look after her\nhusband.\n\nDiamond lay awake for a few minutes, thinking what he could do to catch\nworms. It was very little trouble to make up his mind, however, and\nstill less to go to sleep after it.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV. ANOTHER EARLY BIRD\n\n\nHE GOT up in the morning as soon as he heard the men moving in the yard.\nHe tucked in his little brother so that he could not tumble out of bed,\nand then went out, leaving the door open, so that if he should cry his\nmother might hear him at once. When he got into the yard he found the\nstable-door just opened.\n\n\"I'm the early bird, I think,\" he said to himself. \"I hope I shall catch\nthe worm.\"\n\nHe would not ask any one to help him, fearing his project might meet\nwith disapproval and opposition. With great difficulty, but with the\nhelp of a broken chair he brought down from his bedroom, he managed to\nput the harness on Diamond. If the old horse had had the least objection\nto the proceeding, of course he could not have done it; but even when it\ncame to the bridle, he opened his mouth for the bit, just as if he had\nbeen taking the apple which Diamond sometimes gave him. He fastened the\ncheek-strap very carefully, just in the usual hole, for fear of choking\nhis friend, or else letting the bit get amongst his teeth. It was a job\nto get the saddle on; but with the chair he managed it. If old Diamond\nhad had an education in physics to equal that of the camel, he would\nhave knelt down to let him put it on his back, but that was more than\ncould be expected of him, and then Diamond had to creep quite under him\nto get hold of the girth. The collar was almost the worst part of the\nbusiness; but there Diamond could help Diamond. He held his head very\nlow till his little master had got it over and turned it round, and\nthen he lifted his head, and shook it on to his shoulders. The yoke was\nrather difficult; but when he had laid the traces over the horse's neck,\nthe weight was not too much for him. He got him right at last, and led\nhim out of the stable.\n\nBy this time there were several of the men watching him, but they would\nnot interfere, they were so anxious to see how he would get over the\nvarious difficulties. They followed him as far as the stable-door, and\nthere stood watching him again as he put the horse between the shafts,\ngot them up one after the other into the loops, fastened the traces, the\nbelly-band, the breeching, and the reins.\n\nThen he got his whip. The moment he mounted the box, the men broke into\na hearty cheer of delight at his success. But they would not let him go\nwithout a general inspection of the harness; and although they found it\nright, for not a buckle had to be shifted, they never allowed him to do\nit for himself again all the time his father was ill.\n\nThe cheer brought his mother to the window, and there she saw her little\nboy setting out alone with the cab in the gray of morning. She tugged at\nthe window, but it was stiff; and before she could open it, Diamond, who\nwas in a great hurry, was out of the mews, and almost out of the street.\nShe called \"Diamond! Diamond!\" but there was no answer except from Jack.\n\n\"Never fear for him, ma'am,\" said Jack. \"It 'ud be only a devil as would\nhurt him, and there ain't so many o' them as some folk 'ud have you\nbelieve. A boy o' Diamond's size as can 'arness a 'oss t'other Diamond's\nsize, and put him to, right as a trivet--if he do upset the keb--'ll\nfall on his feet, ma'am.\"\n\n\"But he won't upset the cab, will he, Jack?\"\n\n\"Not he, ma'am. Leastways he won't go for to do it.\"\n\n\"I know as much as that myself. What do you mean?\"\n\n\"I mean he's a little likely to do it as the oldest man in the stable.\nHow's the gov'nor to-day, ma'am?\"\n\n\"A good deal better, thank you,\" she answered, closing the window in\nsome fear lest her husband should have been made anxious by the news\nof Diamond's expedition. He knew pretty well, however, what his boy\nwas capable of, and although not quite easy was less anxious than\nhis mother. But as the evening drew on, the anxiety of both of them\nincreased, and every sound of wheels made his father raise himself in\nhis bed, and his mother peep out of the window.\n\nDiamond had resolved to go straight to the cab-stand where he was best\nknown, and never to crawl for fear of getting annoyed by idlers. Before\nhe got across Oxford Street, however, he was hailed by a man who wanted\nto catch a train, and was in too great a hurry to think about the\ndriver. Having carried him to King's Cross in good time, and got a good\nfare in return, he set off again in great spirits, and reached the stand\nin safety. He was the first there after all.\n\nAs the men arrived they all greeted him kindly, and inquired after his\nfather.\n\n\"Ain't you afraid of the old 'oss running away with you?\" asked one.\n\n\"No, he wouldn't run away with me,\" answered Diamond. \"He knows I'm\ngetting the shillings for father. Or if he did he would only run home.\"\n\n\"Well, you're a plucky one, for all your girl's looks!\" said the man;\n\"and I wish ye luck.\"\n\n\"Thank you, sir,\" said Diamond. \"I'll do what I can. I came to the old\nplace, you see, because I knew you would let me have my turn here.\"\n\nIn the course of the day one man did try to cut him out, but he was a\nstranger; and the shout the rest of them raised let him see it would not\ndo, and made him so far ashamed besides, that he went away crawling.\n\nOnce, in a block, a policeman came up to him, and asked him for his\nnumber. Diamond showed him his father's badge, saying with a smile:\n\n\"Father's ill at home, and so I came out with the cab. There's no fear\nof me. I can drive. Besides, the old horse could go alone.\"\n\n\"Just as well, I daresay. You're a pair of 'em. But you are a rum 'un\nfor a cabby--ain't you now?\" said the policeman. \"I don't know as I\nought to let you go.\"\n\n\"I ain't done nothing,\" said Diamond. \"It's not my fault I'm no bigger.\nI'm big enough for my age.\"\n\n\"That's where it is,\" said the man. \"You ain't fit.\"\n\n\"How do you know that?\" asked Diamond, with his usual smile, and turning\nhis head like a little bird.\n\n\"Why, how are you to get out of this ruck now, when it begins to move?\"\n\n\"Just you get up on the box,\" said Diamond, \"and I'll show you. There,\nthat van's a-moving now. Jump up.\"\n\nThe policeman did as Diamond told him, and was soon satisfied that the\nlittle fellow could drive.\n\n\"Well,\" he said, as he got down again, \"I don't know as I should be\nright to interfere. Good luck to you, my little man!\"\n\n\"Thank you, sir,\" said Diamond, and drove away.\n\nIn a few minutes a gentleman hailed him.\n\n\"Are you the driver of this cab?\" he asked.\n\n\"Yes, sir\" said Diamond, showing his badge, of which, he was proud.\n\n\"You're the youngest cabman I ever saw. How am I to know you won't break\nall my bones?\"\n\n\"I would rather break all my own,\" said Diamond. \"But if you're afraid,\nnever mind me; I shall soon get another fare.\"\n\n\"I'll risk it,\" said the gentleman; and, opening the door himself, he\njumped in.\n\nHe was going a good distance, and soon found that Diamond got him over\nthe ground well. Now when Diamond had only to go straight ahead, and had\nnot to mind so much what he was about, his thoughts always turned to the\nriddle Mr. Raymond had set him; and this gentleman looked so clever that\nhe fancied he must be able to read it for him. He had given up all hope\nof finding it out for himself, and he could not plague his father about\nit when he was ill. He had thought of the answer himself, but fancied it\ncould not be the right one, for to see how it all fitted required some\nknowledge of physiology. So, when he reached the end of his journey, he\ngot down very quickly, and with his head just looking in at the window,\nsaid, as the gentleman gathered his gloves and newspapers:\n\n\"Please, sir, can you tell me the meaning of a riddle?\"\n\n\"You must tell me the riddle first,\" answered the gentleman, amused.\n\nDiamond repeated the riddle.\n\n\"Oh! that's easy enough,\" he returned. \"It's a tree.\"\n\n\"Well, it ain't got no mouth, sure enough; but how then does it eat all\nday long?\"\n\n\"It sucks in its food through the tiniest holes in its leaves,\" he\nanswered. \"Its breath is its food. And it can't do it except in the\ndaylight.\"\n\n\"Thank you, sir, thank you,\" returned Diamond. \"I'm sorry I couldn't\nfind it out myself; Mr. Raymond would have been better pleased with me.\"\n\n\"But you needn't tell him any one told you.\"\n\nDiamond gave him a stare which came from the very back of the north\nwind, where that kind of thing is unknown.\n\n\"That would be cheating,\" he said at last.\n\n\"Ain't you a cabby, then?\"\n\n\"Cabbies don't cheat.\"\n\n\"Don't they? I am of a different opinion.\"\n\n\"I'm sure my father don't.\"\n\n\"What's your fare, young innocent?\"\n\n\"Well, I think the distance is a good deal over three miles--that's two\nshillings. Only father says sixpence a mile is too little, though we\ncan't ask for more.\"\n\n\"You're a deep one. But I think you're wrong. It's over four miles--not\nmuch, but it is.\"\n\n\"Then that's half-a-crown,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"Well, here's three shillings. Will that do?\"\n\n\"Thank you kindly, sir. I'll tell my father how good you were to\nme--first to tell me my riddle, then to put me right about the distance,\nand then to give me sixpence over. It'll help father to get well again,\nit will.\"\n\n\"I hope it may, my man. I shouldn't wonder if you're as good as you\nlook, after all.\"\n\nAs Diamond returned, he drew up at a stand he had never been on before:\nit was time to give Diamond his bag of chopped beans and oats. The men\ngot about him, and began to chaff him. He took it all good-humouredly,\nuntil one of them, who was an ill-conditioned fellow, began to tease old\nDiamond by poking him roughly in the ribs, and making general game of\nhim. That he could not bear, and the tears came in his eyes. He undid\nthe nose-bag, put it in the boot, and was just going to mount and drive\naway, when the fellow interfered, and would not let him get up. Diamond\nendeavoured to persuade him, and was very civil, but he would have his\nfun out of him, as he said. In a few minutes a group of idle boys had\nassembled, and Diamond found himself in a very uncomfortable position.\nAnother cab drew up at the stand, and the driver got off and approached\nthe assemblage.\n\n\"What's up here?\" he asked, and Diamond knew the voice. It was that of\nthe drunken cabman.\n\n\"Do you see this young oyster? He pretends to drive a cab,\" said his\nenemy.\n\n\"Yes, I do see him. And I sees you too. You'd better leave him alone. He\nain't no oyster. He's a angel come down on his own business. You be off,\nor I'll be nearer you than quite agreeable.\"\n\nThe drunken cabman was a tall, stout man, who did not look one to take\nliberties with.\n\n\"Oh! if he's a friend of yours,\" said the other, drawing back.\n\nDiamond got out the nose-bag again. Old Diamond should have his feed out\nnow.\n\n\"Yes, he is a friend o' mine. One o' the best I ever had. It's a pity\nhe ain't a friend o' yourn. You'd be the better for it, but it ain't no\nfault of hisn.\"\n\nWhen Diamond went home at night, he carried with him one pound one\nshilling and sixpence, besides a few coppers extra, which had followed\nsome of the fares.\n\nHis mother had got very anxious indeed--so much so that she was almost\nafraid, when she did hear the sound of his cab, to go and look, lest\nshe should be yet again disappointed, and should break down before her\nhusband. But there was the old horse, and there was the cab all right,\nand there was Diamond in the box, his pale face looking triumphant as a\nfull moon in the twilight.\n\nWhen he drew up at the stable-door, Jack came out, and after a good many\nfriendly questions and congratulations, said:\n\n\"You go in to your mother, Diamond. I'll put up the old 'oss. I'll take\ncare on him. He do deserve some small attention, he do.\"\n\n\"Thank you, Jack,\" said Diamond, and bounded into the house, and into\nthe arms of his mother, who was waiting him at the top of the stair.\n\nThe poor, anxious woman led him into his own room, sat down on his bed,\ntook him on her lap as if he had been a baby, and cried.\n\n\"How's father?\" asked Diamond, almost afraid to ask.\n\n\"Better, my child,\" she answered, \"but uneasy about you, my dear.\"\n\n\"Didn't you tell him I was the early bird gone out to catch the worm?\"\n\n\"That was what put it in your head, was it, you monkey?\" said his\nmother, beginning to get better.\n\n\"That or something else,\" answered Diamond, so very quietly that his\nmother held his head back and stared in his face.\n\n\"Well! of all the children!\" she said, and said no more.\n\n\"And here's my worm,\" resumed Diamond.\n\nBut to see her face as he poured the shillings and sixpences and pence\ninto her lap! She burst out crying a second time, and ran with the money\nto her husband.\n\nAnd how pleased he was! It did him no end of good. But while he was\ncounting the coins, Diamond turned to baby, who was lying awake in his\ncradle, sucking his precious thumb, and took him up, saying:\n\n\"Baby, baby! I haven't seen you for a whole year.\"\n\nAnd then he began to sing to him as usual. And what he sang was this,\nfor he was too happy either to make a song of his own or to sing sense.\nIt was one out of Mr. Raymond's book.\n\n\nTHE TRUE STORY OF THE CAT AND THE FIDDLE\n\n               Hey, diddle, diddle!\n               The cat and the fiddle!\n            He played such a merry tune,\n               That the cow went mad\n               With the pleasure she had,\n            And jumped right over the moon.\n               But then, don't you see?\n               Before that could be,\n            The moon had come down and listened.\n               The little dog hearkened,\n               So loud that he barkened,\n            \"There's nothing like it, there isn't.\"\n\n               Hey, diddle, diddle!\n               Went the cat and the fiddle,\n            Hey diddle, diddle, dee, dee!\n               The dog laughed at the sport\n               Till his cough cut him short,\n            It was hey diddle, diddle, oh me!\n               And back came the cow\n               With a merry, merry low,\n            For she'd humbled the man in the moon.\n               The dish got excited,\n               The spoon was delighted,\n            And the dish waltzed away with the spoon.\n\n               But the man in the moon,\n               Coming back too soon\n            From the famous town of Norwich,\n               Caught up the dish,\n               Said, \"It's just what I wish\n            To hold my cold plum-porridge!\"\n               Gave the cow a rat-tat,\n               Flung water on the cat,\n            And sent him away like a rocket.\n               Said, \"O Moon there you are!\"\n               Got into her car,\n            And went off with the spoon in his pocket\n\n               Hey ho!  diddle, diddle!\n               The wet cat and wet fiddle,\n            They made such a caterwauling,\n               That the cow in a fright\n               Stood bolt upright\n            Bellowing now, and bawling;\n               And the dog on his tail,\n               Stretched his neck with a wail.\n            But \"Ho! ho!\" said the man in the moon--\n               \"No more in the South\n               Shall I burn my mouth,\n            For I've found a dish and a spoon.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXV. DIAMOND'S DREAM\n\n\n\"THERE, baby!\" said Diamond; \"I'm so happy that I can only sing\nnonsense. Oh, father, think if you had been a poor man, and hadn't had a\ncab and old Diamond! What should I have done?\"\n\n\"I don't know indeed what you could have done,\" said his father from the\nbed.\n\n\"We should have all starved, my precious Diamond,\" said his mother,\nwhose pride in her boy was even greater than her joy in the shillings.\nBoth of them together made her heart ache, for pleasure can do that as\nwell as pain.\n\n\"Oh no! we shouldn't,\" said Diamond. \"I could have taken Nanny's\ncrossing till she came back; and then the money, instead of going for\nOld Sal's gin, would have gone for father's beef-tea. I wonder what\nNanny will do when she gets well again. Somebody else will be sure to\nhave taken the crossing by that time. I wonder if she will fight for it,\nand whether I shall have to help her. I won't bother my head about that.\nTime enough yet! Hey diddle! hey diddle! hey diddle diddle! I wonder\nwhether Mr. Raymond would take me to see Nanny. Hey diddle! hey diddle!\nhey diddle diddle! The baby and fiddle! O, mother, I'm such a silly!\nBut I can't help it. I wish I could think of something else, but there's\nnothing will come into my head but hey diddle diddle! the cat and the\nfiddle! I wonder what the angels do--when they're extra happy, you\nknow--when they've been driving cabs all day and taking home the money\nto their mothers. Do you think they ever sing nonsense, mother?\"\n\n\"I daresay they've got their own sort of it,\" answered his mother,\n\"else they wouldn't be like other people.\" She was thinking more of her\ntwenty-one shillings and sixpence, and of the nice dinner she would get\nfor her sick husband next day, than of the angels and their nonsense,\nwhen she said it. But Diamond found her answer all right.\n\n\"Yes, to be sure,\" he replied. \"They wouldn't be like other people\nif they hadn't their nonsense sometimes. But it must be very pretty\nnonsense, and not like that silly hey diddle diddle! the cat and the\nfiddle! I wish I could get it out of my head. I wonder what the angels'\nnonsense is like. Nonsense is a very good thing, ain't it, mother?--a\nlittle of it now and then; more of it for baby, and not so much for\ngrown people like cabmen and their mothers? It's like the pepper and\nsalt that goes in the soup--that's it--isn't it, mother? There's baby\nfast asleep! Oh, what a nonsense baby it is--to sleep so much! Shall I\nput him down, mother?\"\n\nDiamond chattered away. What rose in his happy little heart ran out\nof his mouth, and did his father and mother good. When he went to bed,\nwhich he did early, being more tired, as you may suppose, than usual, he\nwas still thinking what the nonsense could be like which the angels\nsang when they were too happy to sing sense. But before coming to\nany conclusion he fell fast asleep. And no wonder, for it must be\nacknowledged a difficult question.\n\nThat night he had a very curious dream which I think my readers would\nlike to have told them. They would, at least, if they are as fond of\nnice dreams as I am, and don't have enough of them of their own.\n\nHe dreamed that he was running about in the twilight in the old garden.\nHe thought he was waiting for North Wind, but she did not come. So he\nwould run down to the back gate, and see if she were there. He ran and\nran. It was a good long garden out of his dream, but in his dream it\nhad grown so long and spread out so wide that the gate he wanted was\nnowhere. He ran and ran, but instead of coming to the gate found himself\nin a beautiful country, not like any country he had ever been in before.\nThere were no trees of any size; nothing bigger in fact than hawthorns,\nwhich were full of may-blossom. The place in which they grew was wild\nand dry, mostly covered with grass, but having patches of heath. It\nextended on every side as far as he could see. But although it was so\nwild, yet wherever in an ordinary heath you might have expected furze\nbushes, or holly, or broom, there grew roses--wild and rare--all kinds.\nOn every side, far and near, roses were glowing. There too was the\ngum-cistus, whose flowers fall every night and come again the next\nmorning, lilacs and syringas and laburnums, and many shrubs besides,\nof which he did not know the names; but the roses were everywhere. He\nwandered on and on, wondering when it would come to an end. It was of no\nuse going back, for there was no house to be seen anywhere. But he was\nnot frightened, for you know Diamond was used to things that were\nrather out of the way. He threw himself down under a rose-bush, and fell\nasleep.\n\nHe woke, not out of his dream, but into it, thinking he heard a child's\nvoice, calling \"Diamond, Diamond!\" He jumped up, but all was still about\nhim. The rose-bushes were pouring out their odours in clouds. He could\nsee the scent like mists of the same colour as the rose, issuing like\na slow fountain and spreading in the air till it joined the thin rosy\nvapour which hung over all the wilderness. But again came the voice\ncalling him, and it seemed to come from over his head. He looked up, but\nsaw only the deep blue sky full of stars--more brilliant, however, than\nhe had seen them before; and both sky and stars looked nearer to the\nearth.\n\nWhile he gazed up, again he heard the cry. At the same moment he saw one\nof the biggest stars over his head give a kind of twinkle and jump,\nas if it went out and came in again. He threw himself on his back,\nand fixed his eyes upon it. Nor had he gazed long before it went out,\nleaving something like a scar in the blue. But as he went on gazing he\nsaw a face where the star had been--a merry face, with bright eyes.\nThe eyes appeared not only to see Diamond, but to know that Diamond had\ncaught sight of them, for the face withdrew the same moment. Again came\nthe voice, calling \"Diamond, Diamond;\" and in jumped the star to its\nplace.\n\nDiamond called as loud as he could, right up into the sky:\n\n\"Here's Diamond, down below you. What do you want him to do?\"\n\nThe next instant many of the stars round about that one went out, and\nmany voices shouted from the sky,--\n\n\"Come up; come up. We're so jolly! Diamond! Diamond!\"\n\nThis was followed by a peal of the merriest, kindliest laughter, and all\nthe stars jumped into their places again.\n\n\"How am I to come up?\" shouted Diamond.\n\n\"Go round the rose-bush. It's got its foot in it,\" said the first voice.\n\nDiamond got up at once, and walked to the other side of the rose-bush.\n\nThere he found what seemed the very opposite of what he wanted--a stair\ndown into the earth. It was of turf and moss. It did not seem to promise\nwell for getting into the sky, but Diamond had learned to look through\nthe look of things. The voice must have meant that he was to go down\nthis stair; and down this stair Diamond went, without waiting to think\nmore about it.\n\nIt was such a nice stair, so cool and soft--all the sides as well as the\nsteps grown with moss and grass and ferns! Down and down Diamond went--a\nlong way, until at last he heard the gurgling and splashing of a little\nstream; nor had he gone much farther before he met it--yes, met it\ncoming up the stairs to meet him, running up just as naturally as if\nit had been doing the other thing. Neither was Diamond in the least\nsurprised to see it pitching itself from one step to another as it\nclimbed towards him: he never thought it was odd--and no more it was,\nthere. It would have been odd here. It made a merry tune as it came, and\nits voice was like the laughter he had heard from the sky. This appeared\npromising; and he went on, down and down the stair, and up and up the\nstream, till at last he came where it hurried out from under a stone,\nand the stair stopped altogether. And as the stream bubbled up, the\nstone shook and swayed with its force; and Diamond thought he would try\nto lift it. Lightly it rose to his hand, forced up by the stream from\nbelow; and, by what would have seemed an unaccountable perversion of\nthings had he been awake, threatened to come tumbling upon his head.\nBut he avoided it, and when it fell, got upon it. He now saw that the\nopening through which the water came pouring in was over his head, and\nwith the help of the stone he scrambled out by it, and found himself\non the side of a grassy hill which rounded away from him in every\ndirection, and down which came the brook which vanished in the hole.\nBut scarcely had he noticed so much as this before a merry shouting and\nlaughter burst upon him, and a number of naked little boys came running,\nevery one eager to get to him first. At the shoulders of each fluttered\ntwo little wings, which were of no use for flying, as they were mere\nbuds; only being made for it they could not help fluttering as if they\nwere flying. Just as the foremost of the troop reached him, one or two\nof them fell, and the rest with shouts of laughter came tumbling over\nthem till they heaped up a mound of struggling merriment. One after\nanother they extricated themselves, and each as he got free threw his\narms round Diamond and kissed him. Diamond's heart was ready to melt\nwithin him from clear delight. When they had all embraced him,--\n\n\"Now let us have some fun,\" cried one, and with a shout they all\nscampered hither and thither, and played the wildest gambols on the\ngrassy slopes. They kept constantly coming back to Diamond, however, as\nthe centre of their enjoyment, rejoicing over him as if they had found a\nlost playmate.\n\nThere was a wind on the hillside which blew like the very embodiment\nof living gladness. It blew into Diamond's heart, and made him so happy\nthat he was forced to sit down and cry.\n\n\"Now let's go and dig for stars,\" said one who seemed to be the captain\nof the troop.\n\nThey all scurried away, but soon returned, one after another, each with\na pickaxe on his shoulder and a spade in his hand. As soon as they were\ngathered, the captain led them in a straight line to another part of the\nhill. Diamond rose and followed.\n\n\"Here is where we begin our lesson for to-night,\" he said. \"Scatter and\ndig.\"\n\nThere was no more fun. Each went by himself, walking slowly with bent\nshoulders and his eyes fixed on the ground. Every now and then one would\nstop, kneel down, and look intently, feeling with his hands and parting\nthe grass. One would get up and walk on again, another spring to his\nfeet, catch eagerly at his pickaxe and strike it into the ground once\nand again, then throw it aside, snatch up his spade, and commence\ndigging at the loosened earth. Now one would sorrowfully shovel the\nearth into the hole again, trample it down with his little bare white\nfeet, and walk on. But another would give a joyful shout, and after\nmuch tugging and loosening would draw from the hole a lump as big as his\nhead, or no bigger than his fist; when the under side of it would pour\nsuch a blaze of golden or bluish light into Diamond's eyes that he was\nquite dazzled. Gold and blue were the commoner colours: the jubilation\nwas greater over red or green or purple. And every time a star was\ndug up all the little angels dropped their tools and crowded about it,\nshouting and dancing and fluttering their wing-buds.\n\nWhen they had examined it well, they would kneel down one after the\nother and peep through the hole; but they always stood back to give\nDiamond the first look. All that diamond could report, however, was,\nthat through the star-holes he saw a great many things and places and\npeople he knew quite well, only somehow they were different--there was\nsomething marvellous about them--he could not tell what. Every time he\nrose from looking through a star-hole, he felt as if his heart would\nbreak for, joy; and he said that if he had not cried, he did not know\nwhat would have become of him.\n\nAs soon as all had looked, the star was carefully fitted in again, a\nlittle mould was strewn over it, and the rest of the heap left as a sign\nthat the star had been discovered.\n\nAt length one dug up a small star of a most lovely colour--a colour\nDiamond had never seen before. The moment the angel saw what it was,\ninstead of showing it about, he handed it to one of his neighbours, and\nseated himself on the edge of the hole, saying:\n\n\"This will do for me. Good-bye. I'm off.\"\n\nThey crowded about him, hugging and kissing him; then stood back with a\nsolemn stillness, their wings lying close to their shoulders. The little\nfellow looked round on them once with a smile, and then shot himself\nheadlong through the star-hole. Diamond, as privileged, threw himself\non the ground to peep after him, but he saw nothing. \"It's no use,\" said\nthe captain. \"I never saw anything more of one that went that way.\"\n\n\"His wings can't be much use,\" said Diamond, concerned and fearful, yet\ncomforted by the calm looks of the rest.\n\n\"That's true,\" said the captain. \"He's lost them by this time. They all\ndo that go that way. You haven't got any, you see.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Diamond. \"I never did have any.\"\n\n\"Oh! didn't you?\" said the captain.\n\n\"Some people say,\" he added, after a pause, \"that they come again. I\ndon't know. I've never found the colour I care about myself. I suppose I\nshall some day.\"\n\nThen they looked again at the star, put it carefully into its hole,\ndanced around it and over it--but solemnly, and called it by the name of\nthe finder.\n\n\"Will you know it again?\" asked Diamond.\n\n\"Oh, yes. We never forget a star that's been made a door of.\"\n\nThen they went on with their searching and digging.\n\nDiamond having neither pickaxe nor spade, had the more time to think.\n\n\"I don't see any little girls,\" he said at last.\n\nThe captain stopped his shovelling, leaned on his spade, rubbed his\nforehead thoughtfully with his left hand--the little angels were all\nleft-handed--repeated the words \"little girls,\" and then, as if a\nthought had struck him, resumed his work, saying--\n\n\"I think I know what you mean. I've never seen any of them, of course;\nbut I suppose that's the sort you mean. I'm told--but mind I don't say\nit is so, for I don't know--that when we fall asleep, a troop of angels\nvery like ourselves, only quite different, goes round to all the stars\nwe have discovered, and discovers them after us. I suppose with our\nshovelling and handling we spoil them a bit; and I daresay the clouds\nthat come up from below make them smoky and dull sometimes. They\nsay--mind, I say they say--these other angels take them out one by one,\nand pass each round as we do, and breathe over it, and rub it with\ntheir white hands, which are softer than ours, because they don't do any\npick-and-spade work, and smile at it, and put it in again: and that is\nwhat keeps them from growing dark.\"\n\n\"How jolly!\" thought Diamond. \"I should like to see them at their work\ntoo.--When do you go to sleep?\" he asked the captain.\n\n\"When we grow sleepy,\" answered the captain. \"They do say--but mind I\nsay they say--that it is when those others--what do you call them? I\ndon't know if that is their name; I am only guessing that may be the\nsort you mean--when they are on their rounds and come near any troop of\nus we fall asleep. They live on the west side of the hill. None of us\nhave ever been to the top of it yet.\"\n\nEven as he spoke, he dropped his spade. He tumbled down beside it,\nand lay fast asleep. One after the other each of the troop dropped his\npickaxe or shovel from his listless hands, and lay fast asleep by his\nwork.\n\n\"Ah!\" thought Diamond to himself, with delight, \"now the girl-angels are\ncoming, and I, not being an angel, shall not fall asleep like the rest,\nand I shall see the girl-angels.\"\n\nBut the same moment he felt himself growing sleepy. He struggled hard\nwith the invading power. He put up his fingers to his eyelids and pulled\nthem open. But it was of no use. He thought he saw a glimmer of pale\nrosy light far up the green hill, and ceased to know.\n\nWhen he awoke, all the angels were starting up wide awake too. He\nexpected to see them lift their tools, but no, the time for play had\ncome. They looked happier than ever, and each began to sing where he\nstood. He had not heard them sing before.\n\n\"Now,\" he thought, \"I shall know what kind of nonsense the angels sing\nwhen they are merry. They don't drive cabs, I see, but they dig for\nstars, and they work hard enough to be merry after it.\"\n\nAnd he did hear some of the angels' nonsense; for if it was all sense to\nthem, it had only just as much sense to Diamond as made good nonsense of\nit. He tried hard to set it down in his mind, listening as closely as\nhe could, now to one, now to another, and now to all together. But\nwhile they were yet singing he began, to his dismay, to find that he was\ncoming awake--faster and faster. And as he came awake, he found that,\nfor all the goodness of his memory, verse after verse of the angels'\nnonsense vanished from it. He always thought he could keep the last,\nbut as the next began he lost the one before it, and at length awoke,\nstruggling to keep hold of the last verse of all. He felt as if the\neffort to keep from forgetting that one verse of the vanishing song\nnearly killed him. And yet by the time he was wide awake he could not be\nsure of that even. It was something like this:\n\n\n         White hands of whiteness\n           Wash the stars' faces,\n         Till glitter, glitter, glit, goes their brightness\n           Down to poor places.\n\n\nThis, however, was so near sense that he thought it could not be really\nwhat they did sing.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVI. DIAMOND TAKES A FARE THE WRONG WAY RIGHT\n\n\nTHE next morning Diamond was up almost as early as before. He had\nnothing to fear from his mother now, and made no secret of what he was\nabout. By the time he reached the stable, several of the men were there.\nThey asked him a good many questions as to his luck the day before, and\nhe told them all they wanted to know. But when he proceeded to harness\nthe old horse, they pushed him aside with rough kindness, called him a\nbaby, and began to do it all for him. So Diamond ran in and had another\nmouthful of tea and bread and butter; and although he had never been so\ntired as he was the night before, he started quite fresh this morning.\nIt was a cloudy day, and the wind blew hard from the north--so hard\nsometimes that, perched on the box with just his toes touching the\nground, Diamond wished that he had some kind of strap to fasten himself\ndown with lest he should be blown away. But he did not really mind it.\n\nHis head was full of the dream he had dreamed; but it did not make him\nneglect his work, for his work was not to dig stars but to drive old\nDiamond and pick up fares. There are not many people who can think about\nbeautiful things and do common work at the same time. But then there are\nnot many people who have been to the back of the north wind.\n\nThere was not much business doing. And Diamond felt rather cold,\nnotwithstanding his mother had herself put on his comforter and helped\nhim with his greatcoat. But he was too well aware of his dignity to\nget inside his cab as some do. A cabman ought to be above minding the\nweather--at least so Diamond thought. At length he was called to a\nneighbouring house, where a young woman with a heavy box had to be taken\nto Wapping for a coast-steamer.\n\nHe did not find it at all pleasant, so far east and so near the river;\nfor the roughs were in great force. However, there being no block, not\neven in Nightingale Lane, he reached the entrance of the wharf, and set\ndown his passenger without annoyance. But as he turned to go back, some\nidlers, not content with chaffing him, showed a mind to the fare the\nyoung woman had given him. They were just pulling him off the box, and\nDiamond was shouting for the police, when a pale-faced man, in very\nshabby clothes, but with the look of a gentleman somewhere about him,\ncame up, and making good use of his stick, drove them off.\n\n\"Now, my little man,\" he said, \"get on while you can. Don't lose any\ntime. This is not a place for you.\"\n\nBut Diamond was not in the habit of thinking only of himself. He saw\nthat his new friend looked weary, if not ill, and very poor.\n\n\"Won't you jump in, sir?\" he said. \"I will take you wherever you like.\"\n\n\"Thank you, my man; but I have no money; so I can't.\"\n\n\"Oh! I don't want any money. I shall be much happier if you will get in.\nYou have saved me all I had. I owe you a lift, sir.\"\n\n\"Which way are you going?\"\n\n\"To Charing Cross; but I don't mind where I go.\"\n\n\"Well, I am very tired. If you will take me to Charing Cross, I shall be\ngreatly obliged to you. I have walked from Gravesend, and had hardly a\npenny left to get through the tunnel.\"\n\nSo saying, he opened the door and got in, and Diamond drove away.\n\nBut as he drove, he could not help fancying he had seen the\ngentleman--for Diamond knew he was a gentleman--before. Do all he could,\nhowever, he could not recall where or when. Meantime his fare, if we may\ncall him such, seeing he was to pay nothing, whom the relief of being\ncarried had made less and less inclined to carry himself, had been\nturning over things in his mind, and, as they passed the Mint, called to\nDiamond, who stopped the horse, got down and went to the window.\n\n\"If you didn't mind taking me to Chiswick, I should be able to pay you\nwhen we got there. It's a long way, but you shall have the whole fare\nfrom the Docks--and something over.\"\n\n\"Very well, sir\" said Diamond. \"I shall be most happy.\"\n\nHe was just clambering up again, when the gentleman put his head out of\nthe window and said--\n\n\"It's The Wilderness--Mr. Coleman's place; but I'll direct you when we\ncome into the neighbourhood.\"\n\nIt flashed upon Diamond who he was. But he got upon his box to arrange\nhis thoughts before making any reply.\n\nThe gentleman was Mr. Evans, to whom Miss Coleman was to have been\nmarried, and Diamond had seen him several times with her in the garden.\nI have said that he had not behaved very well to Miss Coleman. He had\nput off their marriage more than once in a cowardly fashion, merely\nbecause he was ashamed to marry upon a small income, and live in a\nhumble way. When a man thinks of what people will say in such a case, he\nmay love, but his love is but a poor affair. Mr. Coleman took him\ninto the firm as a junior partner, and it was in a measure through his\ninfluence that he entered upon those speculations which ruined him. So\nhis love had not been a blessing. The ship which North Wind had sunk was\ntheir last venture, and Mr. Evans had gone out with it in the hope\nof turning its cargo to the best advantage. He was one of the single\nboat-load which managed to reach a desert island, and he had gone\nthrough a great many hardships and sufferings since then. But he was\nnot past being taught, and his troubles had done him no end of good, for\nthey had made him doubt himself, and begin to think, so that he had come\nto see that he had been foolish as well as wicked. For, if he had had\nMiss Coleman with him in the desert island, to build her a hut, and hunt\nfor her food, and make clothes for her, he would have thought himself\nthe most fortunate of men; and when he was at home, he would not marry\ntill he could afford a man-servant. Before he got home again, he had\neven begun to understand that no man can make haste to be rich without\ngoing against the will of God, in which case it is the one frightful\nthing to be successful. So he had come back a more humble man, and\nlonging to ask Miss Coleman to forgive him. But he had no idea what\nruin had fallen upon them, for he had never made himself thoroughly\nacquainted with the firm's affairs. Few speculative people do know their\nown affairs. Hence he never doubted he should find matters much as he\nleft them, and expected to see them all at The Wilderness as before. But\nif he had not fallen in with Diamond, he would not have thought of going\nthere first.\n\nWhat was Diamond to do? He had heard his father and mother drop\nsome remarks concerning Mr. Evans which made him doubtful of him. He\nunderstood that he had not been so considerate as he might have been.\nSo he went rather slowly till he should make up his mind. It was, of\ncourse, of no use to drive Mr. Evans to Chiswick. But if he should tell\nhim what had befallen them, and where they lived now, he might put off\ngoing to see them, and he was certain that Miss Coleman, at least, must\nwant very much to see Mr. Evans. He was pretty sure also that the best\nthing in any case was to bring them together, and let them set matters\nright for themselves.\n\nThe moment he came to this conclusion, he changed his course from\nwestward to northward, and went straight for Mr. Coleman's poor little\nhouse in Hoxton. Mr. Evans was too tired and too much occupied with his\nthoughts to take the least notice of the streets they passed through,\nand had no suspicion, therefore, of the change of direction.\n\nBy this time the wind had increased almost to a hurricane, and as they\nhad often to head it, it was no joke for either of the Diamonds. The\ndistance, however, was not great. Before they reached the street where\nMr. Coleman lived it blew so tremendously, that when Miss Coleman, who\nwas going out a little way, opened the door, it dashed against the wall\nwith such a bang, that she was afraid to venture, and went in again.\nIn five minutes after, Diamond drew up at the door. As soon as he had\nentered the street, however, the wind blew right behind them, and when\nhe pulled up, old Diamond had so much ado to stop the cab against it,\nthat the breeching broke. Young Diamond jumped off his box, knocked\nloudly at the door, then turned to the cab and said--before Mr. Evans\nhad quite begun to think something must be amiss:\n\n\"Please, sir, my harness has given away. Would you mind stepping in here\nfor a few minutes? They're friends of mine. I'll take you where you like\nafter I've got it mended. I shan't be many minutes, but you can't stand\nin this wind.\"\n\nHalf stupid with fatigue and want of food, Mr. Evans yielded to the\nboy's suggestion, and walked in at the door which the maid held with\ndifficulty against the wind. She took Mr. Evans for a visitor, as indeed\nhe was, and showed him into the room on the ground-floor. Diamond, who\nhad followed into the hall, whispered to her as she closed the door--\n\n\"Tell Miss Coleman. It's Miss Coleman he wants to see.\"\n\n\"I don't know\" said the maid. \"He don't look much like a gentleman.\"\n\n\"He is, though; and I know him, and so does Miss Coleman.\"\n\nThe maid could not but remember Diamond, having seen him when he and his\nfather brought the ladies home. So she believed him, and went to do what\nhe told her.\n\nWhat passed in the little parlour when Miss Coleman came down does not\nbelong to my story, which is all about Diamond. If he had known that\nMiss Coleman thought Mr. Evans was dead, perhaps he would have managed\ndifferently. There was a cry and a running to and fro in the house, and\nthen all was quiet again.\n\nAlmost as soon as Mr. Evans went in, the wind began to cease, and was\nnow still. Diamond found that by making the breeching just a little\ntighter than was quite comfortable for the old horse he could do very\nwell for the present; and, thinking it better to let him have his bag in\nthis quiet place, he sat on the box till the old horse should have eaten\nhis dinner. In a little while Mr. Evans came out, and asked him to come\nin. Diamond obeyed, and to his delight Miss Coleman put her arms round\nhim and kissed him, and there was payment for him! Not to mention the\nfive precious shillings she gave him, which he could not refuse because\nhis mother wanted them so much at home for his father. He left them\nnearly as happy as they were themselves.\n\nThe rest of the day he did better, and, although he had not so much\nto take home as the day before, yet on the whole the result was\nsatisfactory. And what a story he had to tell his father and mother\nabout his adventures, and how he had done, and what was the result! They\nasked him such a multitude of questions! some of which he could answer,\nand some of which he could not answer; and his father seemed ever so\nmuch better from finding that his boy was already not only useful to his\nfamily but useful to other people, and quite taking his place as a man\nwho judged what was wise, and did work worth doing.\n\nFor a fortnight Diamond went on driving his cab, and keeping his family.\nHe had begun to be known about some parts of London, and people would\nprefer taking his cab because they liked what they heard of him. One\ngentleman who lived near the mews engaged him to carry him to the\nCity every morning at a certain hour; and Diamond was punctual as\nclockwork--though to effect that required a good deal of care, for his\nfather's watch was not much to be depended on, and had to be watched\nitself by the clock of St. George's church. Between the two, however, he\ndid make a success of it.\n\nAfter that fortnight, his father was able to go out again. Then Diamond\nwent to make inquiries about Nanny, and this led to something else.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVII. THE CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL\n\n\nTHE first day his father resumed his work, Diamond went with him as\nusual. In the afternoon, however, his father, having taken a fare to the\nneighbourhood, went home, and Diamond drove the cab the rest of the\nday. It was hard for old Diamond to do all the work, but they could\nnot afford to have another horse. They contrived to save him as much as\npossible, and fed him well, and he did bravely.\n\nThe next morning his father was so much stronger that Diamond thought he\nmight go and ask Mr. Raymond to take him to see Nanny. He found him at\nhome. His servant had grown friendly by this time, and showed him in\nwithout any cross-questioning. Mr. Raymond received him with his usual\nkindness, consented at once, and walked with him to the Hospital, which\nwas close at hand. It was a comfortable old-fashioned house, built in\nthe reign of Queen Anne, and in her day, no doubt, inhabited by rich and\nfashionable people: now it was a home for poor sick children, who were\ncarefully tended for love's sake. There are regions in London where a\nhospital in every other street might be full of such children, whose\nfathers and mothers are dead, or unable to take care of them.\n\nWhen Diamond followed Mr. Raymond into the room where those children who\nhad got over the worst of their illness and were growing better lay, he\nsaw a number of little iron bedsteads, with their heads to the walls,\nand in every one of them a child, whose face was a story in itself.\nIn some, health had begun to appear in a tinge upon the cheeks, and a\ndoubtful brightness in the eyes, just as out of the cold dreary winter\nthe spring comes in blushing buds and bright crocuses. In others there\nwere more of the signs of winter left. Their faces reminded you of\nsnow and keen cutting winds, more than of sunshine and soft breezes\nand butterflies; but even in them the signs of suffering told that the\nsuffering was less, and that if the spring-time had but arrived, it had\nyet arrived.\n\nDiamond looked all round, but could see no Nanny. He turned to Mr.\nRaymond with a question in his eyes.\n\n\"Well?\" said Mr. Raymond.\n\n\"Nanny's not here,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"Oh, yes, she is.\"\n\n\"I don't see her.\"\n\n\"I do, though. There she is.\"\n\nHe pointed to a bed right in front of where Diamond was standing.\n\n\"That's not Nanny,\" he said.\n\n\"It is Nanny. I have seen her many times since you have. Illness makes a\ngreat difference.\"\n\n\"Why, that girl must have been to the back of the north wind!\" thought\nDiamond, but he said nothing, only stared; and as he stared, something\nof the old Nanny began to dawn through the face of the new Nanny. The\nold Nanny, though a good girl, and a friendly girl, had been rough,\nblunt in her speech, and dirty in her person. Her face would always\nhave reminded one who had already been to the back of the north wind\nof something he had seen in the best of company, but it had been coarse\nnotwithstanding, partly from the weather, partly from her living amongst\nlow people, and partly from having to defend herself: now it was so\nsweet, and gentle, and refined, that she might have had a lady and\ngentleman for a father and mother. And Diamond could not help thinking\nof words which he had heard in the church the day before: \"Surely it is\ngood to be afflicted;\" or something like that. North Wind, somehow or\nother, must have had to do with her! She had grown from a rough girl\ninto a gentle maiden.\n\nMr. Raymond, however, was not surprised, for he was used to see\nsuch lovely changes--something like the change which passes upon the\ncrawling, many-footed creature, when it turns sick and ill, and revives\na butterfly, with two wings instead of many feet. Instead of her having\nto take care of herself, kind hands ministered to her, making her\ncomfortable and sweet and clean, soothing her aching head, and giving\nher cooling drink when she was thirsty; and kind eyes, the stars of the\nkingdom of heaven, had shone upon her; so that, what with the fire of\nthe fever and the dew of tenderness, that which was coarse in her had\nmelted away, and her whole face had grown so refined and sweet that\nDiamond did not know her. But as he gazed, the best of the old face, all\nthe true and good part of it, that which was Nanny herself, dawned upon\nhim, like the moon coming out of a cloud, until at length, instead of\nonly believing Mr. Raymond that this was she, he saw for himself that it\nwas Nanny indeed--very worn but grown beautiful.\n\nHe went up to her. She smiled. He had heard her laugh, but had never\nseen her smile before.\n\n\"Nanny, do you know me?\" said Diamond.\n\nShe only smiled again, as if the question was amusing.\n\nShe was not likely to forget him; for although she did not yet know\nit was he who had got her there, she had dreamed of him often, and had\ntalked much about him when delirious. Nor was it much wonder, for he was\nthe only boy except Joe who had ever shown her kindness.\n\nMeantime Mr. Raymond was going from bed to bed, talking to the little\npeople. Every one knew him, and every one was eager to have a look, and\na smile, and a kind word from him.\n\nDiamond sat down on a stool at the head of Nanny's bed. She laid her\nhand in his. No one else of her old acquaintance had been near her.\n\nSuddenly a little voice called aloud--\n\n\"Won't Mr. Raymond tell us a story?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, please do! please do!\" cried several little voices which also\nwere stronger than the rest. For Mr. Raymond was in the habit of telling\nthem a story when he went to see them, and they enjoyed it far more than\nthe other nice things which the doctor permitted him to give them.\n\n\"Very well,\" said Mr. Raymond, \"I will. What sort of a story shall it\nbe?\"\n\n\"A true story,\" said one little girl.\n\n\"A fairy tale,\" said a little boy.\n\n\"Well,\" said Mr. Raymond, \"I suppose, as there is a difference, I may\nchoose. I can't think of any true story just at this moment, so I will\ntell you a sort of a fairy one.\"\n\n\"Oh, jolly!\" exclaimed the little boy who had called out for a fairy\ntale.\n\n\"It came into my head this morning as I got out of bed,\" continued Mr.\nRaymond; \"and if it turns out pretty well, I will write it down, and get\nsomebody to print it for me, and then you shall read it when you like.\"\n\n\"Then nobody ever heard it before?\" asked one older child.\n\n\"No, nobody.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" exclaimed several, thinking it very grand to have the first\ntelling; and I daresay there might be a peculiar freshness about it,\nbecause everything would be nearly as new to the story-teller himself as\nto the listeners.\n\nSome were only sitting up and some were lying down, so there could not\nbe the same busy gathering, bustling, and shifting to and fro with which\nchildren generally prepare themselves to hear a story; but their faces,\nand the turning of their heads, and many feeble exclamations of expected\npleasure, showed that all such preparations were making within them.\n\nMr. Raymond stood in the middle of the room, that he might turn from\nside to side, and give each a share of seeing him. Diamond kept his\nplace by Nanny's side, with her hand in his. I do not know how much of\nMr. Raymond's story the smaller children understood; indeed, I don't\nquite know how much there was in it to be understood, for in such a\nstory every one has just to take what he can get. But they all listened\nwith apparent satisfaction, and certainly with great attention. Mr.\nRaymond wrote it down afterwards, and here it is--somewhat altered no\ndoubt, for a good story-teller tries to make his stories better every\ntime he tells them. I cannot myself help thinking that he was somewhat\nindebted for this one to the old story of The Sleeping Beauty.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVIII. LITTLE DAYLIGHT\n\n\nNO HOUSE of any pretension to be called a palace is in the least worthy\nof the name, except it has a wood near it--very near it--and the nearer\nthe better. Not all round it--I don't mean that, for a palace ought to\nbe open to the sun and wind, and stand high and brave, with weathercocks\nglittering and flags flying; but on one side of every palace there must\nbe a wood. And there was a very grand wood indeed beside the palace of\nthe king who was going to be Daylight's father; such a grand wood, that\nnobody yet had ever got to the other end of it. Near the house it was\nkept very trim and nice, and it was free of brushwood for a long way in;\nbut by degrees it got wild, and it grew wilder, and wilder, and wilder,\nuntil some said wild beasts at last did what they liked in it. The king\nand his courtiers often hunted, however, and this kept the wild beasts\nfar away from the palace.\n\nOne glorious summer morning, when the wind and sun were out together,\nwhen the vanes were flashing and the flags frolicking against the blue\nsky, little Daylight made her appearance from somewhere--nobody could\ntell where--a beautiful baby, with such bright eyes that she might have\ncome from the sun, only by and by she showed such lively ways that she\nmight equally well have come out of the wind. There was great jubilation\nin the palace, for this was the first baby the queen had had, and there\nis as much happiness over a new baby in a palace as in a cottage.\n\nBut there is one disadvantage of living near a wood: you do not know\nquite who your neighbours may be. Everybody knew there were in it\nseveral fairies, living within a few miles of the palace, who always had\nhad something to do with each new baby that came; for fairies live\nso much longer than we, that they can have business with a good many\ngenerations of human mortals. The curious houses they lived in were well\nknown also,--one, a hollow oak; another, a birch-tree, though nobody\ncould ever find how that fairy made a house of it; another, a hut of\ngrowing trees intertwined, and patched up with turf and moss. But there\nwas another fairy who had lately come to the place, and nobody even knew\nshe was a fairy except the other fairies. A wicked old thing she was,\nalways concealing her power, and being as disagreeable as she could,\nin order to tempt people to give her offence, that she might have the\npleasure of taking vengeance upon them. The people about thought she was\na witch, and those who knew her by sight were careful to avoid offending\nher. She lived in a mud house, in a swampy part of the forest.\n\nIn all history we find that fairies give their remarkable gifts to\nprince or princess, or any child of sufficient importance in their eyes,\nalways at the christening. Now this we can understand, because it is\nan ancient custom amongst human beings as well; and it is not hard to\nexplain why wicked fairies should choose the same time to do unkind\nthings; but it is difficult to understand how they should be able to\ndo them, for you would fancy all wicked creatures would be powerless on\nsuch an occasion. But I never knew of any interference on the part of\nthe wicked fairy that did not turn out a good thing in the end. What a\ngood thing, for instance, it was that one princess should sleep for a\nhundred years! Was she not saved from all the plague of young men who\nwere not worthy of her? And did she not come awake exactly at the right\nmoment when the right prince kissed her? For my part, I cannot help\nwishing a good many girls would sleep till just the same fate overtook\nthem. It would be happier for them, and more agreeable to their friends.\n\nOf course all the known fairies were invited to the christening. But the\nking and queen never thought of inviting an old witch.\n\nFor the power of the fairies they have by nature; whereas a witch gets\nher power by wickedness. The other fairies, however, knowing the danger\nthus run, provided as well as they could against accidents from her\nquarter. But they could neither render her powerless, nor could they\narrange their gifts in reference to hers beforehand, for they could not\ntell what those might be.\n\nOf course the old hag was there without being asked. Not to be asked\nwas just what she wanted, that she might have a sort of reason for doing\nwhat she wished to do. For somehow even the wickedest of creatures likes\na pretext for doing the wrong thing.\n\nFive fairies had one after the other given the child such gifts as each\ncounted best, and the fifth had just stepped back to her place in the\nsurrounding splendour of ladies and gentlemen, when, mumbling a laugh\nbetween her toothless gums, the wicked fairy hobbled out into the middle\nof the circle, and at the moment when the archbishop was handing the\nbaby to the lady at the head of the nursery department of state affairs,\naddressed him thus, giving a bite or two to every word before she could\npart with it:\n\n\"Please your Grace, I'm very deaf: would your Grace mind repeating the\nprincess's name?\"\n\n\"With pleasure, my good woman,\" said the archbishop, stooping to shout\nin her ear: \"the infant's name is little Daylight.\"\n\n\"And little daylight it shall be,\" cried the fairy, in the tone of a dry\naxle, \"and little good shall any of her gifts do her. For I bestow upon\nher the gift of sleeping all day long, whether she will or not. Ha, ha!\nHe, he! Hi, hi!\"\n\nThen out started the sixth fairy, who, of course, the others had\narranged should come after the wicked one, in order to undo as much as\nshe might.\n\n\"If she sleep all day,\" she said, mournfully, \"she shall, at least, wake\nall night.\"\n\n\"A nice prospect for her mother and me!\" thought the poor king; for they\nloved her far too much to give her up to nurses, especially at night, as\nmost kings and queens do--and are sorry for it afterwards.\n\n\"You spoke before I had done,\" said the wicked fairy. \"That's against\nthe law. It gives me another chance.\"\n\n\"I beg your pardon,\" said the other fairies, all together.\n\n\"She did. I hadn't done laughing,\" said the crone. \"I had only got to\nHi, hi! and I had to go through Ho, ho! and Hu, hu! So I decree that if\nshe wakes all night she shall wax and wane with its mistress, the moon.\nAnd what that may mean I hope her royal parents will live to see. Ho,\nho! Hu, hu!\"\n\nBut out stepped another fairy, for they had been wise enough to keep two\nin reserve, because every fairy knew the trick of one.\n\n\"Until,\" said the seventh fairy, \"a prince comes who shall kiss her\nwithout knowing it.\"\n\nThe wicked fairy made a horrid noise like an angry cat, and hobbled\naway. She could not pretend that she had not finished her speech this\ntime, for she had laughed Ho, ho! and Hu, hu!\n\n\"I don't know what that means,\" said the poor king to the seventh fairy.\n\n\"Don't be afraid. The meaning will come with the thing itself,\" said\nshe.\n\nThe assembly broke up, miserable enough--the queen, at least, prepared\nfor a good many sleepless nights, and the lady at the head of the\nnursery department anything but comfortable in the prospect before her,\nfor of course the queen could not do it all. As for the king, he made up\nhis mind, with what courage he could summon, to meet the demands of the\ncase, but wondered whether he could with any propriety require the First\nLord of the Treasury to take a share in the burden laid upon him.\n\nI will not attempt to describe what they had to go through for some\ntime. But at last the household settled into a regular system--a very\nirregular one in some respects. For at certain seasons the palace rang\nall night with bursts of laughter from little Daylight, whose heart the\nold fairy's curse could not reach; she was Daylight still, only a little\nin the wrong place, for she always dropped asleep at the first hint of\ndawn in the east. But her merriment was of short duration. When the moon\nwas at the full, she was in glorious spirits, and as beautiful as it was\npossible for a child of her age to be. But as the moon waned, she faded,\nuntil at last she was wan and withered like the poorest, sickliest child\nyou might come upon in the streets of a great city in the arms of a\nhomeless mother. Then the night was quiet as the day, for the little\ncreature lay in her gorgeous cradle night and day with hardly a motion,\nand indeed at last without even a moan, like one dead. At first they\noften thought she was dead, but at last they got used to it, and only\nconsulted the almanac to find the moment when she would begin to revive,\nwhich, of course, was with the first appearance of the silver thread of\nthe crescent moon. Then she would move her lips, and they would give her\na little nourishment; and she would grow better and better and better,\nuntil for a few days she was splendidly well. When well, she was always\nmerriest out in the moonlight; but even when near her worst, she seemed\nbetter when, in warm summer nights, they carried her cradle out into\nthe light of the waning moon. Then in her sleep she would smile the\nfaintest, most pitiful smile.\n\nFor a long time very few people ever saw her awake. As she grew older\nshe became such a favourite, however, that about the palace there were\nalways some who would contrive to keep awake at night, in order to be\nnear her. But she soon began to take every chance of getting away from\nher nurses and enjoying her moonlight alone. And thus things went on\nuntil she was nearly seventeen years of age. Her father and mother had\nby that time got so used to the odd state of things that they had ceased\nto wonder at them. All their arrangements had reference to the state\nof the Princess Daylight, and it is amazing how things contrive to\naccommodate themselves. But how any prince was ever to find and deliver\nher, appeared inconceivable.\n\nAs she grew older she had grown more and more beautiful, with the\nsunniest hair and the loveliest eyes of heavenly blue, brilliant and\nprofound as the sky of a June day. But so much more painful and sad was\nthe change as her bad time came on. The more beautiful she was in the\nfull moon, the more withered and worn did she become as the moon waned.\nAt the time at which my story has now arrived, she looked, when the moon\nwas small or gone, like an old woman exhausted with suffering. This was\nthe more painful that her appearance was unnatural; for her hair and\neyes did not change. Her wan face was both drawn and wrinkled, and had\nan eager hungry look. Her skinny hands moved as if wishing, but unable,\nto lay hold of something. Her shoulders were bent forward, her chest\nwent in, and she stooped as if she were eighty years old. At last she\nhad to be put to bed, and there await the flow of the tide of life. But\nshe grew to dislike being seen, still more being touched by any hands,\nduring this season. One lovely summer evening, when the moon lay all but\ngone upon the verge of the horizon, she vanished from her attendants,\nand it was only after searching for her a long time in great terror,\nthat they found her fast asleep in the forest, at the foot of a silver\nbirch, and carried her home.\n\nA little way from the palace there was a great open glade, covered with\nthe greenest and softest grass. This was her favourite haunt; for here\nthe full moon shone free and glorious, while through a vista in the\ntrees she could generally see more or less of the dying moon as it\ncrossed the opening. Here she had a little rustic house built for her,\nand here she mostly resided. None of the court might go there without\nleave, and her own attendants had learned by this time not to be\nofficious in waiting upon her, so that she was very much at liberty.\nWhether the good fairies had anything to do with it or not I cannot\ntell, but at last she got into the way of retreating further into the\nwood every night as the moon waned, so that sometimes they had great\ntrouble in finding her; but as she was always very angry if she\ndiscovered they were watching her, they scarcely dared to do so. At\nlength one night they thought they had lost her altogether. It was\nmorning before they found her. Feeble as she was, she had wandered into\na thicket a long way from the glade, and there she lay--fast asleep, of\ncourse.\n\nAlthough the fame of her beauty and sweetness had gone abroad, yet as\neverybody knew she was under a bad spell, no king in the neighbourhood\nhad any desire to have her for a daughter-in-law. There were serious\nobjections to such a relation.\n\nAbout this time in a neighbouring kingdom, in consequence of the\nwickedness of the nobles, an insurrection took place upon the death of\nthe old king, the greater part of the nobility was massacred, and\nthe young prince was compelled to flee for his life, disguised like a\npeasant. For some time, until he got out of the country, he suffered\nmuch from hunger and fatigue; but when he got into that ruled by the\nprincess's father, and had no longer any fear of being recognised, he\nfared better, for the people were kind. He did not abandon his disguise,\nhowever. One tolerable reason was that he had no other clothes to put\non, and another that he had very little money, and did not know where to\nget any more. There was no good in telling everybody he met that he\nwas a prince, for he felt that a prince ought to be able to get on like\nother people, else his rank only made a fool of him. He had read of\nprinces setting out upon adventure; and here he was out in similar case,\nonly without having had a choice in the matter. He would go on, and see\nwhat would come of it.\n\nFor a day or two he had been walking through the palace-wood, and had\nhad next to nothing to eat, when he came upon the strangest little\nhouse, inhabited by a very nice, tidy, motherly old woman. This was one\nof the good fairies. The moment she saw him she knew quite well who\nhe was and what was going to come of it; but she was not at liberty to\ninterfere with the orderly march of events. She received him with the\nkindness she would have shown to any other traveller, and gave him bread\nand milk, which he thought the most delicious food he had ever tasted,\nwondering that they did not have it for dinner at the palace sometimes.\nThe old woman pressed him to stay all night. When he awoke he was amazed\nto find how well and strong he felt. She would not take any of the money\nhe offered, but begged him, if he found occasion of continuing in the\nneighbourhood, to return and occupy the same quarters.\n\n\"Thank you much, good mother,\" answered the prince; \"but there is little\nchance of that. The sooner I get out of this wood the better.\"\n\n\"I don't know that,\" said the fairy.\n\n\"What do you mean?\" asked the prince.\n\n\"Why, how should I know?\" returned she.\n\n\"I can't tell,\" said the prince.\n\n\"Very well,\" said the fairy.\n\n\"How strangely you talk!\" said the prince.\n\n\"Do I?\" said the fairy.\n\n\"Yes, you do,\" said the prince.\n\n\"Very well,\" said the fairy.\n\nThe prince was not used to be spoken to in this fashion, so he felt a\nlittle angry, and turned and walked away. But this did not offend the\nfairy. She stood at the door of her little house looking after him till\nthe trees hid him quite. Then she said \"At last!\" and went in.\n\nThe prince wandered and wandered, and got nowhere. The sun sank and sank\nand went out of sight, and he seemed no nearer the end of the wood than\never. He sat down on a fallen tree, ate a bit of bread the old woman had\ngiven him, and waited for the moon; for, although he was not much of an\nastronomer, he knew the moon would rise some time, because she had risen\nthe night before. Up she came, slow and slow, but of a good size, pretty\nnearly round indeed; whereupon, greatly refreshed with his piece of\nbread, he got up and went--he knew not whither.\n\nAfter walking a considerable distance, he thought he was coming to the\noutside of the forest; but when he reached what he thought the last of\nit, he found himself only upon the edge of a great open space in it,\ncovered with grass. The moon shone very bright, and he thought he had\nnever seen a more lovely spot. Still it looked dreary because of its\nloneliness, for he could not see the house at the other side. He sat\ndown, weary again, and gazed into the glade. He had not seen so much\nroom for several days.\n\nAll at once he spied something in the middle of the grass. What could it\nbe? It moved; it came nearer. Was it a human creature, gliding across--a\ngirl dressed in white, gleaming in the moonshine? She came nearer and\nnearer. He crept behind a tree and watched, wondering. It must be some\nstrange being of the wood--a nymph whom the moonlight and the warm\ndusky air had enticed from her tree. But when she came close to where\nhe stood, he no longer doubted she was human--for he had caught sight of\nher sunny hair, and her clear blue eyes, and the loveliest face and form\nthat he had ever seen. All at once she began singing like a nightingale,\nand dancing to her own music, with her eyes ever turned towards the\nmoon. She passed close to where he stood, dancing on by the edge of the\ntrees and away in a great circle towards the other side, until he could\nsee but a spot of white in the yellowish green of the moonlit grass. But\nwhen he feared it would vanish quite, the spot grew, and became a figure\nonce more. She approached him again, singing and dancing, and waving her\narms over her head, until she had completed the circle. Just opposite\nhis tree she stood, ceased her song, dropped her arms, and broke out\ninto a long clear laugh, musical as a brook. Then, as if tired, she\nthrew herself on the grass, and lay gazing at the moon. The prince was\nalmost afraid to breathe lest he should startle her, and she should\nvanish from his sight. As to venturing near her, that never came into\nhis head.\n\nShe had lain for a long hour or longer, when the prince began again to\ndoubt concerning her. Perhaps she was but a vision of his own fancy. Or\nwas she a spirit of the wood, after all? If so, he too would haunt the\nwood, glad to have lost kingdom and everything for the hope of being\nnear her. He would build him a hut in the forest, and there he would\nlive for the pure chance of seeing her again. Upon nights like this at\nleast she would come out and bask in the moonlight, and make his soul\nblessed. But while he thus dreamed she sprang to her feet, turned her\nface full to the moon, and began singing as she would draw her down from\nthe sky by the power of her entrancing voice. She looked more beautiful\nthan ever. Again she began dancing to her own music, and danced away\ninto the distance. Once more she returned in a similar manner; but\nalthough he was watching as eagerly as before, what with fatigue and\nwhat with gazing, he fell fast asleep before she came near him. When he\nawoke it was broad daylight, and the princess was nowhere.\n\nHe could not leave the place. What if she should come the next night! He\nwould gladly endure a day's hunger to see her yet again: he would buckle\nhis belt quite tight. He walked round the glade to see if he could\ndiscover any prints of her feet. But the grass was so short, and her\nsteps had been so light, that she had not left a single trace behind\nher. He walked half-way round the wood without seeing anything to\naccount for her presence. Then he spied a lovely little house, with\nthatched roof and low eaves, surrounded by an exquisite garden, with\ndoves and peacocks walking in it. Of course this must be where the\ngracious lady who loved the moonlight lived. Forgetting his appearance,\nhe walked towards the door, determined to make inquiries, but as he\npassed a little pond full of gold and silver fishes, he caught sight of\nhimself and turned to find the door to the kitchen. There he knocked,\nand asked for a piece of bread. The good-natured cook brought him in,\nand gave him an excellent breakfast, which the prince found nothing the\nworse for being served in the kitchen. While he ate, he talked with\nhis entertainer, and learned that this was the favourite retreat of\nthe Princess Daylight. But he learned nothing more, both because he was\nafraid of seeming inquisitive, and because the cook did not choose to be\nheard talking about her mistress to a peasant lad who had begged for his\nbreakfast.\n\nAs he rose to take his leave, it occurred to him that he might not be\nso far from the old woman's cottage as he had thought, and he asked the\ncook whether she knew anything of such a place, describing it as well as\nhe could. She said she knew it well enough, adding with a smile--\n\n\"It's there you're going, is it?\"\n\n\"Yes, if it's not far off.\"\n\n\"It's not more than three miles. But mind what you are about, you know.\"\n\n\"Why do you say that?\"\n\n\"If you're after any mischief, she'll make you repent it.\"\n\n\"The best thing that could happen under the circumstances,\" remarked the\nprince.\n\n\"What do you mean by that?\" asked the cook.\n\n\"Why, it stands to reason,\" answered the prince \"that if you wish to do\nanything wrong, the best thing for you is to be made to repent of it.\"\n\n\"I see,\" said the cook. \"Well, I think you may venture. She's a good old\nsoul.\"\n\n\"Which way does it lie from here?\" asked the prince.\n\nShe gave him full instructions; and he left her with many thanks.\n\nBeing now refreshed, however, the prince did not go back to the cottage\nthat day: he remained in the forest, amusing himself as best he could,\nbut waiting anxiously for the night, in the hope that the princess would\nagain appear. Nor was he disappointed, for, directly the moon rose, he\nspied a glimmering shape far across the glade. As it drew nearer, he saw\nit was she indeed--not dressed in white as before: in a pale blue like\nthe sky, she looked lovelier still. He thought it was that the blue\nsuited her yet better than the white; he did not know that she was\nreally more beautiful because the moon was nearer the full. In fact the\nnext night was full moon, and the princess would then be at the zenith\nof her loveliness.\n\nThe prince feared for some time that she was not coming near his\nhiding-place that night; but the circles in her dance ever widened as\nthe moon rose, until at last they embraced the whole glade, and she\ncame still closer to the trees where he was hiding than she had come the\nnight before. He was entranced with her loveliness, for it was indeed a\nmarvellous thing. All night long he watched her, but dared not go near\nher. He would have been ashamed of watching her too, had he not become\nalmost incapable of thinking of anything but how beautiful she was. He\nwatched the whole night long, and saw that as the moon went down she\nretreated in smaller and smaller circles, until at last he could see her\nno more.\n\nWeary as he was, he set out for the old woman's cottage, where he\narrived just in time for her breakfast, which she shared with him. He\nthen went to bed, and slept for many hours. When he awoke the sun was\ndown, and he departed in great anxiety lest he should lose a glimpse\nof the lovely vision. But, whether it was by the machinations of the\nswamp-fairy, or merely that it is one thing to go and another to return\nby the same road, he lost his way. I shall not attempt to describe his\nmisery when the moon rose, and he saw nothing but trees, trees, trees.\n\nShe was high in the heavens before he reached the glade. Then indeed\nhis troubles vanished, for there was the princess coming dancing towards\nhim, in a dress that shone like gold, and with shoes that glimmered\nthrough the grass like fireflies. She was of course still more beautiful\nthan before. Like an embodied sunbeam she passed him, and danced away\ninto the distance.\n\nBefore she returned in her circle, the clouds had begun to gather about\nthe moon. The wind rose, the trees moaned, and their lighter branches\nleaned all one way before it. The prince feared that the princess would\ngo in, and he should see her no more that night. But she came dancing on\nmore jubilant than ever, her golden dress and her sunny hair streaming\nout upon the blast, waving her arms towards the moon, and in the\nexuberance of her delight ordering the clouds away from off her face.\nThe prince could hardly believe she was not a creature of the elements,\nafter all.\n\nBy the time she had completed another circle, the clouds had gathered\ndeep, and there were growlings of distant thunder. Just as she passed\nthe tree where he stood, a flash of lightning blinded him for a moment,\nand when he saw again, to his horror, the princess lay on the ground.\nHe darted to her, thinking she had been struck; but when she heard him\ncoming, she was on her feet in a moment.\n\n\"What do you want?\" she asked.\n\n\"I beg your pardon. I thought--the lightning\" said the prince,\nhesitating.\n\n\"There's nothing the matter,\" said the princess, waving him off rather\nhaughtily.\n\nThe poor prince turned and walked towards the wood.\n\n\"Come back,\" said Daylight: \"I like you. You do what you are told. Are\nyou good?\"\n\n\"Not so good as I should like to be,\" said the prince.\n\n\"Then go and grow better,\" said the princess.\n\nAgain the disappointed prince turned and went.\n\n\"Come back,\" said the princess.\n\nHe obeyed, and stood before her waiting.\n\n\"Can you tell me what the sun is like?\" she asked.\n\n\"No,\" he answered. \"But where's the good of asking what you know?\"\n\n\"But I don't know,\" she rejoined.\n\n\"Why, everybody knows.\"\n\n\"That's the very thing: I'm not everybody. I've never seen the sun.\"\n\n\"Then you can't know what it's like till you do see it.\"\n\n\"I think you must be a prince,\" said the princess.\n\n\"Do I look like one?\" said the prince.\n\n\"I can't quite say that.\"\n\n\"Then why do you think so?\"\n\n\"Because you both do what you are told and speak the truth.--Is the sun\nso very bright?\"\n\n\"As bright as the lightning.\"\n\n\"But it doesn't go out like that, does it?\"\n\n\"Oh, no. It shines like the moon, rises and sets like the moon, is much\nthe same shape as the moon, only so bright that you can't look at it for\na moment.\"\n\n\"But I would look at it,\" said the princess.\n\n\"But you couldn't,\" said the prince.\n\n\"But I could,\" said the princess.\n\n\"Why don't you, then?\"\n\n\"Because I can't.\"\n\n\"Why can't you?\"\n\n\"Because I can't wake. And I never shall wake until----\"\n\nHere she hid her face in her hands, turned away, and walked in the\nslowest, stateliest manner towards the house. The prince ventured to\nfollow her at a little distance, but she turned and made a repellent\ngesture, which, like a true gentleman-prince, he obeyed at once. He\nwaited a long time, but as she did not come near him again, and as the\nnight had now cleared, he set off at last for the old woman's cottage.\n\nIt was long past midnight when he reached it, but, to his surprise, the\nold woman was paring potatoes at the door. Fairies are fond of doing odd\nthings. Indeed, however they may dissemble, the night is always their\nday. And so it is with all who have fairy blood in them.\n\n\"Why, what are you doing there, this time of the night, mother?\" said\nthe prince; for that was the kind way in which any young man in his\ncountry would address a woman who was much older than himself.\n\n\"Getting your supper ready, my son,\" she answered.\n\n\"Oh, I don't want any supper,\" said the prince.\n\n\"Ah! you've seen Daylight,\" said she.\n\n\"I've seen a princess who never saw it,\" said the prince.\n\n\"Do you like her?\" asked the fairy.\n\n\"Oh! don't I?\" said the prince. \"More than you would believe, mother.\"\n\n\"A fairy can believe anything that ever was or ever could be,\" said the\nold woman.\n\n\"Then are you a fairy?\" asked the prince.\n\n\"Yes,\" said she.\n\n\"Then what do you do for things not to believe?\" asked the prince.\n\n\"There's plenty of them--everything that never was nor ever could be.\"\n\n\"Plenty, I grant you,\" said the prince. \"But do you believe there could\nbe a princess who never saw the daylight? Do you believe that now?\"\n\nThis the prince said, not that he doubted the princess, but that he\nwanted the fairy to tell him more. She was too old a fairy, however, to\nbe caught so easily.\n\n\"Of all people, fairies must not tell secrets. Besides, she's a\nprincess.\"\n\n\"Well, I'll tell you a secret. I'm a prince.\"\n\n\"I know that.\"\n\n\"How do you know it?\"\n\n\"By the curl of the third eyelash on your left eyelid.\"\n\n\"Which corner do you count from?\"\n\n\"That's a secret.\"\n\n\"Another secret? Well, at least, if I am a prince, there can be no harm\nin telling me about a princess.\"\n\n\"It's just the princes I can't tell.\"\n\n\"There ain't any more of them--are there?\" said the prince.\n\n\"What! you don't think you're the only prince in the world, do you?\"\n\n\"Oh, dear, no! not at all. But I know there's one too many just at\npresent, except the princess----\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, that's it,\" said the fairy.\n\n\"What's it?\" asked the prince.\n\nBut he could get nothing more out of the fairy, and had to go to bed\nunanswered, which was something of a trial.\n\nNow wicked fairies will not be bound by the law which the good fairies\nobey, and this always seems to give the bad the advantage over the good,\nfor they use means to gain their ends which the others will not. But it\nis all of no consequence, for what they do never succeeds; nay, in the\nend it brings about the very thing they are trying to prevent. So\nyou see that somehow, for all their cleverness, wicked fairies are\ndreadfully stupid, for, although from the beginning of the world they\nhave really helped instead of thwarting the good fairies, not one of\nthem is a bit wiser for it. She will try the bad thing just as they all\ndid before her; and succeeds no better of course.\n\nThe prince had so far stolen a march upon the swamp-fairy that she\ndid not know he was in the neighbourhood until after he had seen the\nprincess those three times. When she knew it, she consoled herself by\nthinking that the princess must be far too proud and too modest for any\nyoung man to venture even to speak to her before he had seen her six\ntimes at least. But there was even less danger than the wicked fairy\nthought; for, however much the princess might desire to be set free, she\nwas dreadfully afraid of the wrong prince. Now, however, the fairy was\ngoing to do all she could.\n\nShe so contrived it by her deceitful spells, that the next night the\nprince could not by any endeavour find his way to the glade. It would\ntake me too long to tell her tricks. They would be amusing to us, who\nknow that they could not do any harm, but they were something other than\namusing to the poor prince. He wandered about the forest till daylight,\nand then fell fast asleep. The same thing occurred for seven following\ndays, during which neither could he find the good fairy's cottage. After\nthe third quarter of the moon, however, the bad fairy thought she might\nbe at ease about the affair for a fortnight at least, for there was no\nchance of the prince wishing to kiss the princess during that period.\nSo the first day of the fourth quarter he did find the cottage, and the\nnext day he found the glade. For nearly another week he haunted it. But\nthe princess never came. I have little doubt she was on the farther\nedge of it some part of every night, but at this period she always wore\nblack, and, there being little or no light, the prince never saw her.\nNor would he have known her if he had seen her. How could he have\ntaken the worn decrepit creature she was now, for the glorious Princess\nDaylight?\n\nAt last, one night when there was no moon at all, he ventured near the\nhouse. There he heard voices talking, although it was past midnight; for\nher women were in considerable uneasiness, because the one whose turn it\nwas to watch her had fallen asleep, and had not seen which way she went,\nand this was a night when she would probably wander very far, describing\na circle which did not touch the open glade at all, but stretched away\nfrom the back of the house, deep into that side of the forest--a part\nof which the prince knew nothing. When he understood from what they said\nthat she had disappeared, and that she must have gone somewhere in the\nsaid direction, he plunged at once into the wood to see if he could find\nher. For hours he roamed with nothing to guide him but the vague notion\nof a circle which on one side bordered on the house, for so much had he\npicked up from the talk he had overheard.\n\nIt was getting towards the dawn, but as yet there was no streak of light\nin the sky, when he came to a great birch-tree, and sat down weary at\nthe foot of it. While he sat--very miserable, you may be sure--full of\nfear for the princess, and wondering how her attendants could take it so\nquietly, he bethought himself that it would not be a bad plan to light\na fire, which, if she were anywhere near, would attract her. This he\nmanaged with a tinder-box, which the good fairy had given him. It was\njust beginning to blaze up, when he heard a moan, which seemed to come\nfrom the other side of the tree. He sprung to his feet, but his heart\nthrobbed so that he had to lean for a moment against the tree before he\ncould move. When he got round, there lay a human form in a little dark\nheap on the earth. There was light enough from his fire to show that it\nwas not the princess. He lifted it in his arms, hardly heavier than a\nchild, and carried it to the flame. The countenance was that of an old\nwoman, but it had a fearfully strange look. A black hood concealed her\nhair, and her eyes were closed. He laid her down as comfortably as he\ncould, chafed her hands, put a little cordial from a bottle, also the\ngift of the fairy, into her mouth; took off his coat and wrapped it\nabout her, and in short did the best he could. In a little while she\nopened her eyes and looked at him--so pitifully! The tears rose and\nflowed from her grey wrinkled cheeks, but she said never a word. She\nclosed her eyes again, but the tears kept on flowing, and her whole\nappearance was so utterly pitiful that the prince was near crying too.\nHe begged her to tell him what was the matter, promising to do all\nhe could to help her; but still she did not speak. He thought she was\ndying, and took her in his arms again to carry her to the princess's\nhouse, where he thought the good-natured cook might be able to do\nsomething for her. When he lifted her, the tears flowed yet faster, and\nshe gave such a sad moan that it went to his very heart.\n\n\"Mother, mother!\" he said. \"Poor mother!\" and kissed her on the withered\nlips.\n\nShe started; and what eyes they were that opened upon him! But he did\nnot see them, for it was still very dark, and he had enough to do to\nmake his way through the trees towards the house.\n\nJust as he approached the door, feeling more tired than he could have\nimagined possible--she was such a little thin old thing--she began to\nmove, and became so restless that, unable to carry her a moment longer,\nhe thought to lay her on the grass. But she stood upright on her feet.\nHer hood had dropped, and her hair fell about her. The first gleam\nof the morning was caught on her face: that face was bright as the\nnever-aging Dawn, and her eyes were lovely as the sky of darkest blue.\nThe prince recoiled in overmastering wonder. It was Daylight herself\nwhom he had brought from the forest! He fell at her feet, nor dared to\nlook up until she laid her hand upon his head. He rose then.\n\n\"You kissed me when I was an old woman: there! I kiss you when I am a\nyoung princess,\" murmured Daylight.--\"Is that the sun coming?\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIX. RUBY\n\n\nTHE children were delighted with the story, and made many amusing\nremarks upon it. Mr. Raymond promised to search his brain for another,\nand when he had found one to bring it to them. Diamond having taken\nleave of Nanny, and promised to go and see her again soon, went away\nwith him.\n\nNow Mr. Raymond had been turning over in his mind what he could do both\nfor Diamond and for Nanny. He had therefore made some acquaintance with\nDiamond's father, and had been greatly pleased with him. But he had come\nto the resolution, before he did anything so good as he would like to\ndo for them, to put them all to a certain test. So as they walked away\ntogether, he began to talk with Diamond as follows:--\n\n\"Nanny must leave the hospital soon, Diamond.\"\n\n\"I'm glad of that, sir.\"\n\n\"Why? Don't you think it's a nice place?\"\n\n\"Yes, very. But it's better to be well and doing something, you know,\neven if it's not quite so comfortable.\"\n\n\"But they can't keep Nanny so long as they would like. They can't keep\nher till she's quite strong. There are always so many sick children they\nwant to take in and make better. And the question is, What will she do\nwhen they send her out again?\"\n\n\"That's just what I can't tell, though I've been thinking of it over and\nover, sir. Her crossing was taken long ago, and I couldn't bear to see\nNanny fighting for it, especially with such a poor fellow as has taken\nit. He's quite lame, sir.\"\n\n\"She doesn't look much like fighting, now, does she, Diamond?\"\n\n\"No, sir. She looks too like an angel. Angels don't fight--do they,\nsir?\"\n\n\"Not to get things for themselves, at least,\" said Mr. Raymond.\n\n\"Besides,\" added Diamond, \"I don't quite see that she would have any\nbetter right to the crossing than the boy who has got it. Nobody gave it\nto her; she only took it. And now he has taken it.\"\n\n\"If she were to sweep a crossing--soon at least--after the illness she\nhas had, she would be laid up again the very first wet day,\" said Mr.\nRaymond.\n\n\"And there's hardly any money to be got except on the wet days,\"\nremarked Diamond reflectively. \"Is there nothing else she could do,\nsir?\"\n\n\"Not without being taught, I'm afraid.\"\n\n\"Well, couldn't somebody teach her something?\"\n\n\"Couldn't you teach her, Diamond?\"\n\n\"I don't know anything myself, sir. I could teach her to dress the\nbaby; but nobody would give her anything for doing things like that:\nthey are so easy. There wouldn't be much good in teaching her to drive\na cab, for where would she get the cab to drive? There ain't fathers and\nold Diamonds everywhere. At least poor Nanny can't find any of them, I\ndoubt.\"\n\n\"Perhaps if she were taught to be nice and clean, and only speak gentle\nwords.\"\n\n\"Mother could teach her that,\" interrupted Diamond.\n\n\"And to dress babies, and feed them, and take care of them,\" Mr. Raymond\nproceeded, \"she might get a place as a nurse somewhere, you know. People\ndo give money for that.\"\n\n\"Then I'll ask mother,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"But you'll have to give her her food then; and your father, not being\nstrong, has enough to do already without that.\"\n\n\"But here's me,\" said Diamond: \"I help him out with it. When he's tired\nof driving, up I get. It don't make any difference to old Diamond. I\ndon't mean he likes me as well as my father--of course he can't, you\nknow--nobody could; but he does his duty all the same. It's got to be\ndone, you know, sir; and Diamond's a good horse--isn't he, sir?\"\n\n\"From your description I should say certainly; but I have not the\npleasure of his acquaintance myself.\"\n\n\"Don't you think he will go to heaven, sir?\"\n\n\"That I don't know anything about,\" said Mr. Raymond. \"I confess I\nshould be glad to think so,\" he added, smiling thoughtfully.\n\n\"I'm sure he'll get to the back of the north wind, anyhow,\" said Diamond\nto himself; but he had learned to be very careful of saying such things\naloud.\n\n\"Isn't it rather too much for him to go in the cab all day and every\nday?\" resumed Mr. Raymond.\n\n\"So father says, when he feels his ribs of a morning. But then he says\nthe old horse do eat well, and the moment he's had his supper, down\nhe goes, and never gets up till he's called; and, for the legs of him,\nfather says that makes no end of a differ. Some horses, sir! they won't\nlie down all night long, but go to sleep on their four pins, like a\nhaystack, father says. I think it's very stupid of them, and so does old\nDiamond. But then I suppose they don't know better, and so they can't\nhelp it. We mustn't be too hard upon them, father says.\"\n\n\"Your father must be a good man, Diamond.\" Diamond looked up in Mr.\nRaymond's face, wondering what he could mean.\n\n\"I said your father must be a good man, Diamond.\"\n\n\"Of course,\" said Diamond. \"How could he drive a cab if he wasn't?\"\n\n\"There are some men who drive cabs who are not very good,\" objected Mr.\nRaymond.\n\nDiamond remembered the drunken cabman, and saw that his friend was\nright.\n\n\"Ah, but,\" he returned, \"he must be, you know, with such a horse as old\nDiamond.\"\n\n\"That does make a difference,\" said Mr. Raymond. \"But it is quite enough\nthat he is a good man without our trying to account for it. Now, if you\nlike, I will give you a proof that I think him a good man. I am going\naway on the Continent for a while--for three months, I believe--and I\nam going to let my house to a gentleman who does not want the use of\nmy brougham. My horse is nearly as old, I fancy, as your Diamond, but\nI don't want to part with him, and I don't want him to be idle; for\nnobody, as you say, ought to be idle; but neither do I want him to be\nworked very hard. Now, it has come into my head that perhaps your father\nwould take charge of him, and work him under certain conditions.\"\n\n\"My father will do what's right,\" said Diamond. \"I'm sure of that.\"\n\n\"Well, so I think. Will you ask him when he comes home to call and have\na little chat with me--to-day, some time?\"\n\n\"He must have his dinner first,\" said Diamond. \"No, he's got his dinner\nwith him to-day. It must be after he's had his tea.\"\n\n\"Of course, of course. Any time will do. I shall be at home all day.\"\n\n\"Very well, sir. I will tell him. You may be sure he will come. My\nfather thinks you a very kind gentleman, and I know he is right, for I\nknow your very own self, sir.\"\n\nMr. Raymond smiled, and as they had now reached his door, they parted,\nand Diamond went home. As soon as his father entered the house, Diamond\ngave him Mr. Raymond's message, and recounted the conversation that had\npreceded it. His father said little, but took thought-sauce to his bread\nand butter, and as soon as he had finished his meal, rose, saying:\n\n\"I will go to your friend directly, Diamond. It would be a grand thing\nto get a little more money. We do want it.\" Diamond accompanied his\nfather to Mr. Raymond's door, and there left him.\n\nHe was shown at once into Mr. Raymond's study, where he gazed with\nsome wonder at the multitude of books on the walls, and thought what a\nlearned man Mr. Raymond must be.\n\nPresently Mr. Raymond entered, and after saying much the same about\nhis old horse, made the following distinct proposal--one not\nover-advantageous to Diamond's father, but for which he had\nreasons--namely, that Joseph should have the use of Mr. Raymond's horse\nwhile he was away, on condition that he never worked him more than six\nhours a day, and fed him well, and that, besides, he should take Nanny\nhome as soon as she was able to leave the hospital, and provide for her\nas one of his own children, neither better nor worse--so long, that is,\nas he had the horse.\n\nDiamond's father could not help thinking it a pretty close bargain. He\nshould have both the girl and the horse to feed, and only six hours'\nwork out of the horse.\n\n\"It will save your own horse,\" said Mr. Raymond.\n\n\"That is true,\" answered Joseph; \"but all I can get by my own horse is\nonly enough to keep us, and if I save him and feed your horse and the\ngirl--don't you see, sir?\"\n\n\"Well, you can go home and think about it, and let me know by the end of\nthe week. I am in no hurry before then.\"\n\nSo Joseph went home and recounted the proposal to his wife, adding that\nhe did not think there was much advantage to be got out of it.\n\n\"Not much that way, husband,\" said Diamond's mother; \"but there would be\nan advantage, and what matter who gets it!\"\n\n\"I don't see it,\" answered her husband. \"Mr. Raymond is a gentleman of\nproperty, and I don't discover any much good in helping him to save a\nlittle more. He won't easily get one to make such a bargain, and I\ndon't mean he shall get me. It would be a loss rather than a gain--I do\nthink--at least if I took less work out of our own horse.\"\n\n\"One hour would make a difference to old Diamond. But that's not the\nmain point. You must think what an advantage it would be to the poor\ngirl that hasn't a home to go to!\"\n\n\"She is one of Diamond's friends,\" thought his father.\n\n\"I could be kind to her, you know,\" the mother went on, \"and teach her\nhousework, and how to handle a baby; and, besides, she would help\nme, and I should be the stronger for it, and able to do an odd bit of\ncharing now and then, when I got the chance.\"\n\n\"I won't hear of that,\" said her husband. \"Have the girl by all means.\nI'm ashamed I did not think of both sides of the thing at once. I wonder\nif the horse is a great eater. To be sure, if I gave Diamond two hours'\nadditional rest, it would be all the better for the old bones of him,\nand there would be four hours extra out of the other horse. That would\ngive Diamond something to do every day. He could drive old Diamond after\ndinner, and I could take the other horse out for six hours after tea,\nor in the morning, as I found best. It might pay for the keep of both of\nthem,--that is, if I had good luck. I should like to oblige Mr. Raymond,\nthough he be rather hard, for he has been very kind to our Diamond,\nwife. Hasn't he now?\"\n\n\"He has indeed, Joseph,\" said his wife, and there the conversation\nended.\n\nDiamond's father went the very next day to Mr. Raymond, and accepted his\nproposal; so that the week after having got another stall in the same\nstable, he had two horses instead of one. Oddly enough, the name of the\nnew horse was Ruby, for he was a very red chestnut. Diamond's name came\nfrom a white lozenge on his forehead. Young Diamond said they were rich\nnow, with such a big diamond and such a big ruby.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXX. NANNY'S DREAM\n\n\nNANNY was not fit to be moved for some time yet, and Diamond went to see\nher as often as he could. But being more regularly engaged now, seeing\nhe went out every day for a few hours with old Diamond, and had his baby\nto mind, and one of the horses to attend to, he could not go so often as\nhe would have liked.\n\nOne evening, as he sat by her bedside, she said to him:\n\n\"I've had such a beautiful dream, Diamond! I should like to tell it\nyou.\"\n\n\"Oh! do,\" said Diamond; \"I am so fond of dreams!\"\n\n\"She must have been to the back of the north wind,\" he said to himself.\n\n\"It was a very foolish dream, you know. But somehow it was so pleasant!\nWhat a good thing it is that you believe the dream all the time you are\nin it!\"\n\nMy readers must not suppose that poor Nanny was able to say what she\nmeant so well as I put it down here. She had never been to school, and\nhad heard very little else than vulgar speech until she came to the\nhospital. But I have been to school, and although that could never make\nme able to dream so well as Nanny, it has made me able to tell her dream\nbetter than she could herself. And I am the more desirous of doing this\nfor her that I have already done the best I could for Diamond's dream,\nand it would be a shame to give the boy all the advantage.\n\n\"I will tell you all I know about it,\" said Nanny. \"The day before\nyesterday, a lady came to see us--a very beautiful lady, and very\nbeautifully dressed. I heard the matron say to her that it was very\nkind of her to come in blue and gold; and she answered that she knew\nwe didn't like dull colours. She had such a lovely shawl on, just like\nredness dipped in milk, and all worked over with flowers of the same\ncolour. It didn't shine much, it was silk, but it kept in the shine.\nWhen she came to my bedside, she sat down, just where you are sitting,\nDiamond, and laid her hand on the counterpane. I was sitting up, with my\ntable before me ready for my tea. Her hand looked so pretty in its blue\nglove, that I was tempted to stroke it. I thought she wouldn't be angry,\nfor everybody that comes to the hospital is kind. It's only in the\nstreets they ain't kind. But she drew her hand away, and I almost cried,\nfor I thought I had been rude. Instead of that, however, it was only\nthat she didn't like giving me her glove to stroke, for she drew it\noff, and then laid her hand where it was before. I wasn't sure, but I\nventured to put out my ugly hand.\"\n\n\"Your hand ain't ugly, Nanny,\" said Diamond; but Nanny went on--\n\n\"And I stroked it again, and then she stroked mine,--think of that! And\nthere was a ring on her finger, and I looked down to see what it was\nlike. And she drew it off, and put it upon one of my fingers. It was a\nred stone, and she told me they called it a ruby.\"\n\n\"Oh, that is funny!\" said Diamond. \"Our new horse is called Ruby. We've\ngot another horse--a red one--such a beauty!\"\n\nBut Nanny went on with her story.\n\n\"I looked at the ruby all the time the lady was talking to me,--it was\nso beautiful! And as she talked I kept seeing deeper and deeper into the\nstone. At last she rose to go away, and I began to pull the ring off\nmy finger; and what do you think she said?--'Wear it all night, if you\nlike. Only you must take care of it. I can't give it you, for some one\ngave it to me; but you may keep it till to-morrow.' Wasn't it kind of\nher? I could hardly take my tea, I was so delighted to hear it; and I\ndo think it was the ring that set me dreaming; for, after I had taken my\ntea, I leaned back, half lying and half sitting, and looked at the ring\non my finger. By degrees I began to dream. The ring grew larger and\nlarger, until at last I found that I was not looking at a red stone, but\nat a red sunset, which shone in at the end of a long street near where\nGrannie lives. I was dressed in rags as I used to be, and I had great\nholes in my shoes, at which the nasty mud came through to my feet. I\ndidn't use to mind it before, but now I thought it horrid. And there was\nthe great red sunset, with streaks of green and gold between, standing\nlooking at me. Why couldn't I live in the sunset instead of in that\ndirt? Why was it so far away always? Why did it never come into our\nwretched street? It faded away, as the sunsets always do, and at last\nwent out altogether. Then a cold wind began to blow, and flutter all my\nrags about----\"\n\n\"That was North Wind herself,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"Eh?\" said Nanny, and went on with her story.\n\n\"I turned my back to it, and wandered away. I did not know where I was\ngoing, only it was warmer to go that way. I don't think it was a north\nwind, for I found myself in the west end at last. But it doesn't matter\nin a dream which wind it was.\"\n\n\"I don't know that,\" said Diamond. \"I believe North Wind can get into\nour dreams--yes, and blow in them. Sometimes she has blown me out of a\ndream altogether.\"\n\n\"I don't know what you mean, Diamond,\" said Nanny.\n\n\"Never mind,\" answered Diamond. \"Two people can't always understand each\nother. They'd both be at the back of the north wind directly, and what\nwould become of the other places without them?\"\n\n\"You do talk so oddly!\" said Nanny. \"I sometimes think they must have\nbeen right about you.\"\n\n\"What did they say about me?\" asked Diamond.\n\n\"They called you God's baby.\"\n\n\"How kind of them! But I knew that.\"\n\n\"Did you know what it meant, though? It meant that you were not right in\nthe head.\"\n\n\"I feel all right,\" said Diamond, putting both hands to his head, as if\nit had been a globe he could take off and set on again.\n\n\"Well, as long as you are pleased I am pleased,\" said Nanny.\n\n\"Thank you, Nanny. Do go on with your story. I think I like dreams even\nbetter than fairy tales. But they must be nice ones, like yours, you\nknow.\"\n\n\"Well, I went on, keeping my back to the wind, until I came to a fine\nstreet on the top of a hill. How it happened I don't know, but the front\ndoor of one of the houses was open, and not only the front door, but the\nback door as well, so that I could see right through the house--and\nwhat do you think I saw? A garden place with green grass, and the moon\nshining upon it! Think of that! There was no moon in the street, but\nthrough the house there was the moon. I looked and there was nobody\nnear: I would not do any harm, and the grass was so much nicer than the\nmud! But I couldn't think of going on the grass with such dirty shoes: I\nkicked them off in the gutter, and ran in on my bare feet, up the steps,\nand through the house, and on to the grass; and the moment I came into\nthe moonlight, I began to feel better.\"\n\n\"That's why North Wind blew you there,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"It came of Mr. Raymond's story about Princess Daylight,\" returned\nNanny. \"Well, I lay down upon the grass in the moonlight without\nthinking how I was to get out again. Somehow the moon suited me exactly.\nThere was not a breath of the north wind you talk about; it was quite\ngone.\"\n\n\"You didn't want her any more, just then. She never goes where she's not\nwanted,\" said Diamond. \"But she blew you into the moonlight, anyhow.\"\n\n\"Well, we won't dispute about it,\" said Nanny: \"you've got a tile loose,\nyou know.\"\n\n\"Suppose I have,\" returned Diamond, \"don't you see it may let in the\nmoonlight, or the sunlight for that matter?\"\n\n\"Perhaps yes, perhaps no,\" said Nanny.\n\n\"And you've got your dreams, too, Nanny.\"\n\n\"Yes, but I know they're dreams.\"\n\n\"So do I. But I know besides they are something more as well.\"\n\n\"Oh! do you?\" rejoined Nanny. \"I don't.\"\n\n\"All right,\" said Diamond. \"Perhaps you will some day.\"\n\n\"Perhaps I won't,\" said Nanny.\n\nDiamond held his peace, and Nanny resumed her story.\n\n\"I lay a long time, and the moonlight got in at every tear in my\nclothes, and made me feel so happy----\"\n\n\"There, I tell you!\" said Diamond.\n\n\"What do you tell me?\" returned Nanny.\n\n\"North Wind----\"\n\n\"It was the moonlight, I tell you,\" persisted Nanny, and again Diamond\nheld his peace.\n\n\"All at once I felt that the moon was not shining so strong. I looked\nup, and there was a cloud, all crapey and fluffy, trying to drown the\nbeautiful creature. But the moon was so round, just like a whole plate,\nthat the cloud couldn't stick to her. She shook it off, and said there\nand shone out clearer and brighter than ever. But up came a thicker\ncloud,--and 'You shan't,' said the moon; and 'I will,' said the\ncloud,--but it couldn't: out shone the moon, quite laughing at its\nimpudence. I knew her ways, for I've always been used to watch her.\nShe's the only thing worth looking at in our street at night.\"\n\n\"Don't call it your street,\" said Diamond. \"You're not going back to it.\nYou're coming to us, you know.\"\n\n\"That's too good to be true,\" said Nanny.\n\n\"There are very few things good enough to be true,\" said Diamond; \"but\nI hope this is. Too good to be true it can't be. Isn't true good? and\nisn't good good? And how, then, can anything be too good to be true?\nThat's like old Sal--to say that.\"\n\n\"Don't abuse Grannie, Diamond. She's a horrid old thing, she and her gin\nbottle; but she'll repent some day, and then you'll be glad not to have\nsaid anything against her.\"\n\n\"Why?\" said Diamond.\n\n\"Because you'll be sorry for her.\"\n\n\"I am sorry for her now.\"\n\n\"Very well. That's right. She'll be sorry too. And there'll be an end of\nit.\"\n\n\"All right. You come to us,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"Where was I?\" said Nanny.\n\n\"Telling me how the moon served the clouds.\"\n\n\"Yes. But it wouldn't do, all of it. Up came the clouds and the clouds,\nand they came faster and faster, until the moon was covered up. You\ncouldn't expect her to throw off a hundred of them at once--could you?\"\n\n\"Certainly not,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"So it grew very dark; and a dog began to yelp in the house. I\nlooked and saw that the door to the garden was shut. Presently it was\nopened--not to let me out, but to let the dog in--yelping and bounding.\nI thought if he caught sight of me, I was in for a biting first, and the\npolice after. So I jumped up, and ran for a little summer-house in the\ncorner of the garden. The dog came after me, but I shut the door in his\nface. It was well it had a door--wasn't it?\"\n\n\"You dreamed of the door because you wanted it,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"No, I didn't; it came of itself. It was there, in the true dream.\"\n\n\"There--I've caught you!\" said Diamond. \"I knew you believed in the\ndream as much as I do.\"\n\n\"Oh, well, if you will lay traps for a body!\" said Nanny. \"Anyhow, I was\nsafe inside the summer-house. And what do you think?--There was the moon\nbeginning to shine again--but only through one of the panes--and that\none was just the colour of the ruby. Wasn't it funny?\"\n\n\"No, not a bit funny,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"If you will be contrary!\" said Nanny.\n\n\"No, no,\" said Diamond; \"I only meant that was the very pane I should\nhave expected her to shine through.\"\n\n\"Oh, very well!\" returned Nanny.\n\nWhat Diamond meant, I do not pretend to say. He had curious notions\nabout things.\n\n\"And now,\" said Nanny, \"I didn't know what to do, for the dog kept\nbarking at the door, and I couldn't get out. But the moon was so\nbeautiful that I couldn't keep from looking at it through the red pane.\nAnd as I looked it got larger and larger till it filled the whole pane\nand outgrew it, so that I could see it through the other panes; and\nit grew till it filled them too and the whole window, so that the\nsummer-house was nearly as bright as day.\n\n\"The dog stopped barking, and I heard a gentle tapping at the door, like\nthe wind blowing a little branch against it.\"\n\n\"Just like her,\" said Diamond, who thought everything strange and\nbeautiful must be done by North Wind.\n\n\"So I turned from the window and opened the door; and what do you think\nI saw?\"\n\n\"A beautiful lady,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"No--the moon itself, as big as a little house, and as round as a ball,\nshining like yellow silver. It stood on the grass--down on the very\ngrass: I could see nothing else for the brightness of it: And as I\nstared and wondered, a door opened in the side of it, near the ground,\nand a curious little old man, with a crooked thing over his shoulder,\nlooked out, and said: 'Come along, Nanny; my lady wants you. We're come\nto fetch you.\" I wasn't a bit frightened. I went up to the beautiful\nbright thing, and the old man held down his hand, and I took hold of it,\nand gave a jump, and he gave me a lift, and I was inside the moon. And\nwhat do you think it was like? It was such a pretty little house, with\nblue windows and white curtains! At one of the windows sat a beautiful\nlady, with her head leaning on her hand, looking out. She seemed rather\nsad, and I was sorry for her, and stood staring at her.\n\n\"`You didn't think I had such a beautiful mistress as that!' said the\nqueer little man. `No, indeed!' I answered: `who would have thought it?'\n`Ah! who indeed? But you see you don't know everything.' The little man\nclosed the door, and began to pull at a rope which hung behind it with\na weight at the end. After he had pulled a while, he said--`There, that\nwill do; we're all right now.' Then he took me by the hand and opened a\nlittle trap in the floor, and led me down two or three steps, and I saw\nlike a great hole below me. `Don't be frightened,' said the tittle\nman. `It's not a hole. It's only a window. Put your face down and\nlook through.' I did as he told me, and there was the garden and the\nsummer-house, far away, lying at the bottom of the moonlight. `There!'\nsaid the little man; `we've brought you off! Do you see the little\ndog barking at us down there in the garden?' I told him I couldn't see\nanything so far. `Can you see anything so small and so far off?' I said.\n`Bless you, child!' said the little man; `I could pick up a needle out\nof the grass if I had only a long enough arm. There's one lying by the\ndoor of the summer-house now.' I looked at his eyes. They were very\nsmall, but so bright that I think he saw by the light that went out of\nthem. Then he took me up, and up again by a little stair in a corner of\nthe room, and through another trapdoor, and there was one great round\nwindow above us, and I saw the blue sky and the clouds, and such lots of\nstars, all so big and shining as hard as ever they could!\"\n\n\"The little girl-angels had been polishing them,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"What nonsense you do talk!\" said Nanny.\n\n\"But my nonsense is just as good as yours, Nanny. When you have done,\nI'll tell you my dream. The stars are in it--not the moon, though. She\nwas away somewhere. Perhaps she was gone to fetch you then. I don't\nthink that, though, for my dream was longer ago than yours. She might\nhave been to fetch some one else, though; for we can't fancy it's only\nus that get such fine things done for them. But do tell me what came\nnext.\"\n\nPerhaps one of my child-readers may remember whether the moon came down\nto fetch him or her the same night that Diamond had his dream. I cannot\ntell, of course. I know she did not come to fetch me, though I did think\nI could make her follow me when I was a boy--not a very tiny one either.\n\n\"The little man took me all round the house, and made me look out of\nevery window. Oh, it was beautiful! There we were, all up in the air, in\nsuch a nice, clean little house! `Your work will be to keep the windows\nbright,' said the little man. `You won't find it very difficult,\nfor there ain't much dust up here. Only, the frost settles on them\nsometimes, and the drops of rain leave marks on them.' `I can easily\nclean them inside,' I said; `but how am I to get the frost and rain off\nthe outside of them?' `Oh!' he said, `it's quite easy. There are ladders\nall about. You've only got to go out at the door, and climb about. There\nare a great many windows you haven't seen yet, and some of them look\ninto places you don't know anything about. I used to clean them myself,\nbut I'm getting rather old, you see. Ain't I now?' `I can't tell,' I\nanswered. `You see I never saw you when you were younger.' `Never saw\nthe man in the moon?' said he. `Not very near,' I answered, `not to tell\nhow young or how old he looked. I have seen the bundle of sticks on his\nback.' For Jim had pointed that out to me. Jim was very fond of looking\nat the man in the moon. Poor Jim! I wonder he hasn't been to see me. I'm\nafraid he's ill too.\"\n\n\"I'll try to find out,\" said Diamond, \"and let you know.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" said Nanny. \"You and Jim ought to be friends.\"\n\n\"But what did the man in the moon say, when you told him you had seen\nhim with the bundle of sticks on his back?\"\n\n\"He laughed. But I thought he looked offended too. His little nose\nturned up sharper, and he drew the corners of his mouth down from the\ntips of his ears into his neck. But he didn't look cross, you know.\"\n\n\"Didn't he say anything?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes! He said: `That's all nonsense. What you saw was my bundle of\ndusters. I was going to clean the windows. It takes a good many, you\nknow. Really, what they do say of their superiors down there!' `It's\nonly because they don't know better,' I ventured to say. `Of course,\nof course,' said the little man. `Nobody ever does know better. Well,\nI forgive them, and that sets it all right, I hope.' `It's very good\nof you,' I said. `No!' said he, `it's not in the least good of me. I\ncouldn't be comfortable otherwise.' After this he said nothing for a\nwhile, and I laid myself on the floor of his garret, and stared up and\naround at the great blue beautifulness. I had forgotten him almost,\nwhen at last he said: `Ain't you done yet?' `Done what?' I asked. `Done\nsaying your prayers,' says he. 'I wasn't saying my prayers,' I answered.\n`Oh, yes, you were,' said he, `though you didn't know it! And now I must\nshow you something else.'\n\n\"He took my hand and led me down the stair again, and through a narrow\npassage, and through another, and another, and another. I don't know\nhow there could be room for so many passages in such a little house. The\nheart of it must be ever so much farther from the sides than they are\nfrom each other. How could it have an inside that was so independent of\nits outside? There's the point. It was funny--wasn't it, Diamond?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Diamond. He was going to say that that was very much the sort\nof thing at the back of the north wind; but he checked himself and only\nadded, \"All right. I don't see it. I don't see why the inside should\ndepend on the outside. It ain't so with the crabs. They creep out of\ntheir outsides and make new ones. Mr. Raymond told me so.\"\n\n\"I don't see what that has got to do with it,\" said Nanny.\n\n\"Then go on with your story, please,\" said Diamond. \"What did you come\nto, after going through all those winding passages into the heart of the\nmoon?\"\n\n\"I didn't say they were winding passages. I said they were long and\nnarrow. They didn't wind. They went by corners.\"\n\n\"That's worth knowing,\" remarked Diamond. \"For who knows how soon he may\nhave to go there? But the main thing is, what did you come to at last?\"\n\n\"We came to a small box against the wall of a tiny room. The little man\ntold me to put my ear against it. I did so, and heard a noise something\nlike the purring of a cat, only not so loud, and much sweeter. `What is\nit?' I asked. `Don't you know the sound?' returned the little man. `No,'\nI answered. `Don't you know the sound of bees?' he said. I had never\nheard bees, and could not know the sound of them. `Those are my lady's\nbees,' he went on. I had heard that bees gather honey from the flowers.\n`But where are the flowers for them?' I asked. `My lady's bees gather\ntheir honey from the sun and the stars,' said the little man. `Do let\nme see them,' I said. `No. I daren't do that,' he answered. `I have no\nbusiness with them. I don't understand them. Besides, they are so bright\nthat if one were to fly into your eye, it would blind you altogether.'\n`Then you have seen them?' `Oh, yes! Once or twice, I think. But I don't\nquite know: they are so very bright--like buttons of lightning. Now\nI've showed you all I can to-night, and we'll go back to the room.' I\nfollowed him, and he made me sit down under a lamp that hung from the\nroof, and gave me some bread and honey.\n\n\"The lady had never moved. She sat with her forehead leaning on her\nhand, gazing out of the little window, hung like the rest with white\ncloudy curtains. From where I was sitting I looked out of it too, but I\ncould see nothing. Her face was very beautiful, and very white, and very\nstill, and her hand was as white as the forehead that leaned on it. I\ndid not see her whole face--only the side of it, for she never moved to\nturn it full upon me, or even to look at me.\n\n\"How long I sat after I had eaten my bread and honey, I don't know. The\nlittle man was busy about the room, pulling a string here, and a string\nthere, but chiefly the string at the back of the door. I was thinking\nwith some uneasiness that he would soon be wanting me to go out and\nclean the windows, and I didn't fancy the job. At last he came up to me\nwith a great armful of dusters. `It's time you set about the windows,'\nhe said; `for there's rain coming, and if they're quite clean before,\nthen the rain can't spoil them.' I got up at once. `You needn't be\nafraid,' he said. `You won't tumble off. Only you must be careful.\nAlways hold on with one hand while you rub with the other.' As he spoke,\nhe opened the door. I started back in a terrible fright, for there was\nnothing but blue air to be seen under me, like a great water without a\nbottom at all. But what must be must, and to live up here was so much\nnicer than down in the mud with holes in my shoes, that I never thought\nof not doing as I was told. The little man showed me how and where to\nlay hold while I put my foot round the edge of the door on to the first\nround of a ladder. `Once you're up,' he said, `you'll see how you have\nto go well enough.' I did as he told me, and crept out very carefully.\nThen the little man handed me the bundle of dusters, saying, `I always\ncarry them on my reaping hook, but I don't think you could manage it\nproperly. You shall have it if you like.' I wouldn't take it, however,\nfor it looked dangerous.\n\n\"I did the best I could with the dusters, and crawled up to the top\nof the moon. But what a grand sight it was! The stars were all over my\nhead, so bright and so near that I could almost have laid hold of them.\nThe round ball to which I clung went bobbing and floating away through\nthe dark blue above and below and on every side. It was so beautiful\nthat all fear left me, and I set to work diligently. I cleaned window\nafter window. At length I came to a very little one, in at which I\npeeped. There was the room with the box of bees in it! I laid my ear to\nthe window, and heard the musical hum quite distinctly. A great longing\nto see them came upon me, and I opened the window and crept in.\nThe little box had a door like a closet. I opened it--the tiniest\ncrack--when out came the light with such a sting that I closed it again\nin terror--not, however, before three bees had shot out into the room,\nwhere they darted about like flashes of lightning. Terribly frightened,\nI tried to get out of the window again, but I could not: there was no\nway to the outside of the moon but through the door; and that was in\nthe room where the lady sat. No sooner had I reached the room, than the\nthree bees, which had followed me, flew at once to the lady, and settled\nupon her hair. Then first I saw her move. She started, put up her hand,\nand caught them; then rose and, having held them into the flame of the\nlamp one after the other, turned to me. Her face was not so sad now as\nstern. It frightened me much. `Nanny, you have got me into trouble,' she\nsaid. `You have been letting out my bees, which it is all I can do to\nmanage. You have forced me to burn them. It is a great loss, and there\nwill be a storm.' As she spoke, the clouds had gathered all about us. I\ncould see them come crowding up white about the windows. `I am sorry to\nfind,' said the lady, `that you are not to be trusted. You must go home\nagain--you won't do for us.' Then came a great clap of thunder, and the\nmoon rocked and swayed. All grew dark about me, and I fell on the floor\nand lay half-stunned. I could hear everything but could see nothing.\n`Shall I throw her out of the door, my lady?' said the little man.\n`No,' she answered; `she's not quite bad enough for that. I don't think\nthere's much harm in her; only she'll never do for us. She would make\ndreadful mischief up here. She's only fit for the mud. It's a great\npity. I am sorry for her. Just take that ring off her finger. I am sadly\nafraid she has stolen it.' The little man caught hold of my hand, and I\nfelt him tugging at the ring. I tried to speak what was true about it,\nbut, after a terrible effort, only gave a groan. Other things began to\ncome into my head. Somebody else had a hold of me. The little man wasn't\nthere. I opened my eyes at last, and saw the nurse. I had cried out in\nmy sleep, and she had come and waked me. But, Diamond, for all it was\nonly a dream, I cannot help being ashamed of myself yet for opening the\nlady's box of bees.\"\n\n\"You wouldn't do it again--would you--if she were to take you back?\"\nsaid Diamond.\n\n\"No. I don't think anything would ever make me do it again. But where's\nthe good? I shall never have the chance.\"\n\n\"I don't know that,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"You silly baby! It was only a dream,\" said Nanny.\n\n\"I know that, Nanny, dear. But how can you tell you mayn't dream it\nagain?\"\n\n\"That's not a bit likely.\"\n\n\"I don't know that,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"You're always saying that,\" said Nanny. \"I don't like it.\"\n\n\"Then I won't say it again--if I don't forget.\" said Diamond. \"But it\nwas such a beautiful dream!--wasn't it, Nanny? What a pity you opened\nthat door and let the bees out! You might have had such a long dream,\nand such nice talks with the moon-lady. Do try to go again, Nanny. I do\nso want to hear more.\"\n\nBut now the nurse came and told him it was time to go; and Diamond went,\nsaying to himself, \"I can't help thinking that North Wind had something\nto do with that dream. It would be tiresome to lie there all day and all\nnight too--without dreaming. Perhaps if she hadn't done that, the moon\nmight have carried her to the back of the north wind--who knows?\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXI. THE NORTH WIND DOTH BLOW\n\n\nIT WAS a great delight to Diamond when at length Nanny was well enough\nto leave the hospital and go home to their house. She was not very\nstrong yet, but Diamond's mother was very considerate of her, and took\ncare that she should have nothing to do she was not quite fit for. If\nNanny had been taken straight from the street, it is very probable she\nwould not have been so pleasant in a decent household, or so easy to\nteach; but after the refining influences of her illness and the kind\ntreatment she had had in the hospital, she moved about the house just\nlike some rather sad pleasure haunting the mind. As she got better, and\nthe colour came back to her cheeks, her step grew lighter and quicker,\nher smile shone out more readily, and it became certain that she would\nsoon be a treasure of help. It was great fun to see Diamond teaching\nher how to hold the baby, and wash and dress him, and often they laughed\ntogether over her awkwardness. But she had not many such lessons before\nshe was able to perform those duties quite as well as Diamond himself.\n\nThings however did not go well with Joseph from the very arrival of\nRuby. It almost seemed as if the red beast had brought ill luck with\nhim. The fares were fewer, and the pay less. Ruby's services did indeed\nmake the week's income at first a little beyond what it used to be, but\nthen there were two more to feed. After the first month he fell lame,\nand for the whole of the next Joseph dared not attempt to work him. I\ncannot say that he never grumbled, for his own health was far from what\nit had been; but I can say that he tried to do his best. During all\nthat month, they lived on very short commons indeed, seldom tasting meat\nexcept on Sundays, and poor old Diamond, who worked hardest of all, not\neven then--so that at the end of it he was as thin as a clothes-horse,\nwhile Ruby was as plump and sleek as a bishop's cob.\n\nNor was it much better after Ruby was able to work again, for it was\na season of great depression in business, and that is very soon felt\namongst the cabmen. City men look more after their shillings, and their\nwives and daughters have less to spend. It was besides a wet autumn, and\nbread rose greatly in price. When I add to this that Diamond's mother\nwas but poorly, for a new baby was coming, you will see that these were\nnot very jolly times for our friends in the mews.\n\nNotwithstanding the depressing influences around him, Joseph was able to\nkeep a little hope alive in his heart; and when he came home at night,\nwould get Diamond to read to him, and would also make Nanny produce her\nbook that he might see how she was getting on. For Diamond had taken her\neducation in hand, and as she was a clever child, she was very soon able\nto put letters and words together.\n\nThus the three months passed away, but Mr. Raymond did not return.\nJoseph had been looking anxiously for him, chiefly with the desire of\ngetting rid of Ruby--not that he was absolutely of no use to him, but\nthat he was a constant weight upon his mind. Indeed, as far as provision\nwent, he was rather worse off with Ruby and Nanny than he had been\nbefore, but on the other hand, Nanny was a great help in the house, and\nit was a comfort to him to think that when the new baby did come, Nanny\nwould be with his wife.\n\nOf God's gifts a baby is of the greatest; therefore it is no wonder that\nwhen this one came, she was as heartily welcomed by the little household\nas if she had brought plenty with her. Of course she made a great\ndifference in the work to be done--far more difference than her size\nwarranted, but Nanny was no end of help, and Diamond was as much of a\nsunbeam as ever, and began to sing to the new baby the first moment he\ngot her in his arms. But he did not sing the same songs to her that he\nhad sung to his brother, for, he said, she was a new baby and must have\nnew songs; and besides, she was a sister-baby and not a brother-baby,\nand of course would not like the same kind of songs. Where the\ndifference in his songs lay, however, I do not pretend to be able to\npoint out. One thing I am sure of, that they not only had no small share\nin the education of the little girl, but helped the whole family a great\ndeal more than they were aware.\n\nHow they managed to get through the long dreary expensive winter, I can\nhardly say. Sometimes things were better, sometimes worse. But at last\nthe spring came, and the winter was over and gone, and that was much.\nStill, Mr. Raymond did not return, and although the mother would have\nbeen able to manage without Nanny now, they could not look for a place\nfor her so long as they had Ruby; and they were not altogether sorry for\nthis. One week at last was worse than they had yet had. They were almost\nwithout bread before it was over. But the sadder he saw his father and\nmother looking, the more Diamond set himself to sing to the two babies.\n\nOne thing which had increased their expenses was that they had been\nforced to hire another little room for Nanny. When the second baby came,\nDiamond gave up his room that Nanny might be at hand to help his mother,\nand went to hers, which, although a fine place to what she had been\naccustomed to, was not very nice in his eyes. He did not mind the change\nthough, for was not his mother the more comfortable for it? And was\nnot Nanny more comfortable too? And indeed was not Diamond himself more\ncomfortable that other people were more comfortable? And if there was\nmore comfort every way, the change was a happy one.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXII. DIAMOND AND RUBY\n\n\nIT WAS Friday night, and Diamond, like the rest of the household, had\nhad very little to eat that day. The mother would always pay the week's\nrent before she laid out anything even on food. His father had been very\ngloomy--so gloomy that he had actually been cross to his wife. It is\na strange thing how pain of seeing the suffering of those we love will\nsometimes make us add to their suffering by being cross with them. This\ncomes of not having faith enough in God, and shows how necessary this\nfaith is, for when we lose it, we lose even the kindness which alone can\nsoothe the suffering. Diamond in consequence had gone to bed very quiet\nand thoughtful--a little troubled indeed.\n\nIt had been a very stormy winter, and even now that the spring had come,\nthe north wind often blew. When Diamond went to his bed, which was in\na tiny room in the roof, he heard it like the sea moaning; and when he\nfell asleep he still heard the moaning. All at once he said to himself,\n\"Am I awake, or am I asleep?\" But he had no time to answer the question,\nfor there was North Wind calling him. His heart beat very fast, it was\nsuch a long time since he had heard that voice. He jumped out of bed,\nand looked everywhere, but could not see her. \"Diamond, come here,\" she\nsaid again and again; but where the here was he could not tell. To be\nsure the room was all but quite dark, and she might be close beside him.\n\n\"Dear North Wind,\" said Diamond, \"I want so much to go to you, but I\ncan't tell where.\"\n\n\"Come here, Diamond,\" was all her answer.\n\nDiamond opened the door, and went out of the room, and down the stair\nand into the yard. His little heart was in a flutter, for he had long\ngiven up all thought of seeing her again. Neither now was he to see her.\nWhen he got out, a great puff of wind came against him, and in obedience\nto it he turned his back, and went as it blew. It blew him right up to\nthe stable-door, and went on blowing.\n\n\"She wants me to go into the stable,\" said Diamond to himself, \"but the\ndoor is locked.\"\n\nHe knew where the key was, in a certain hole in the wall--far too high\nfor him to get at. He ran to the place, however: just as he reached it\nthere came a wild blast, and down fell the key clanging on the stones at\nhis feet. He picked it up, and ran back and opened the stable-door, and\nwent in. And what do you think he saw?\n\nA little light came through the dusty window from a gas-lamp, sufficient\nto show him Diamond and Ruby with their two heads up, looking at each\nother across the partition of their stalls. The light showed the white\nmark on Diamond's forehead, but Ruby's eye shone so bright, that he\nthought more light came out of it than went in. This is what he saw.\n\nBut what do you think he heard?\n\nHe heard the two horses talking to each other--in a strange language,\nwhich yet, somehow or other, he could understand, and turn over in\nhis mind in English. The first words he heard were from Diamond, who\napparently had been already quarrelling with Ruby.\n\n\"Look how fat you are Ruby!\" said old Diamond. \"You are so plump and\nyour skin shines so, you ought to be ashamed of yourself.\"\n\n\"There's no harm in being fat,\" said Ruby in a deprecating tone. \"No,\nnor in being sleek. I may as well shine as not.\"\n\n\"No harm?\" retorted Diamond. \"Is it no harm to go eating up all poor\nmaster's oats, and taking up so much of his time grooming you, when you\nonly work six hours--no, not six hours a day, and, as I hear, get along\nno faster than a big dray-horse with two tons behind him?--So they tell\nme.\"\n\n\"Your master's not mine,\" said Ruby. \"I must attend to my own master's\ninterests, and eat all that is given me, and be sleek and fat as I can,\nand go no faster than I need.\"\n\n\"Now really if the rest of the horses weren't all asleep, poor\nthings--they work till they're tired--I do believe they would get up and\nkick you out of the stable. You make me ashamed of being a horse. You\ndare to say my master ain't your master! That's your gratitude for the\nway he feeds you and spares you! Pray where would your carcass be if it\nweren't for him?\"\n\n\"He doesn't do it for my sake. If I were his own horse, he would work me\nas hard as he does you.\"\n\n\"And I'm proud to be so worked. I wouldn't be as fat as you--not for all\nyou're worth. You're a disgrace to the stable. Look at the horse next\nyou. He's something like a horse--all skin and bone. And his master\nain't over kind to him either. He put a stinging lash on his whip\nlast week. But that old horse knows he's got the wife and children\nto keep--as well as his drunken master--and he works like a horse. I\ndaresay he grudges his master the beer he drinks, but I don't believe he\ngrudges anything else.\"\n\n\"Well, I don't grudge yours what he gets by me,\" said Ruby.\n\n\"Gets!\" retorted Diamond. \"What he gets isn't worth grudging. It comes\nto next to nothing--what with your fat and shine.\n\n\"Well, at least you ought to be thankful you're the better for it. You\nget a two hours' rest a day out of it.\"\n\n\"I thank my master for that--not you, you lazy fellow! You go along like\na buttock of beef upon castors--you do.\"\n\n\"Ain't you afraid I'll kick, if you go on like that, Diamond?\"\n\n\"Kick! You couldn't kick if you tried. You might heave your rump up\nhalf a foot, but for lashing out--oho! If you did, you'd be down on your\nbelly before you could get your legs under you again. It's my belief,\nonce out, they'd stick out for ever. Talk of kicking! Why don't you put\none foot before the other now and then when you're in the cab? The abuse\nmaster gets for your sake is quite shameful. No decent horse would bring\nit on him. Depend upon it, Ruby, no cabman likes to be abused any more\nthan his fare. But his fares, at least when you are between the shafts,\nare very much to be excused. Indeed they are.\"\n\n\"Well, you see, Diamond, I don't want to go lame again.\"\n\n\"I don't believe you were so very lame after all--there!\"\n\n\"Oh, but I was.\"\n\n\"Then I believe it was all your own fault. I'm not lame. I never was\nlame in all my life. You don't take care of your legs. You never lay\nthem down at night. There you are with your huge carcass crushing down\nyour poor legs all night long. You don't even care for your own legs--so\nlong as you can eat, eat, and sleep, sleep. You a horse indeed!\"\n\n\"But I tell you I was lame.\"\n\n\"I'm not denying there was a puffy look about your off-pastern. But my\nbelief is, it wasn't even grease--it was fat.\"\n\n\"I tell you I put my foot on one of those horrid stones they make the\nroads with, and it gave my ankle such a twist.\"\n\n\"Ankle indeed! Why should you ape your betters? Horses ain't got any\nankles: they're only pasterns. And so long as you don't lift your feet\nbetter, but fall asleep between every step, you'll run a good chance\nof laming all your ankles as you call them, one after another. It's not\nyour lively horse that comes to grief in that way. I tell you I believe\nit wasn't much, and if it was, it was your own fault. There! I've done.\nI'm going to sleep. I'll try to think as well of you as I can. If you\nwould but step out a bit and run off a little of your fat!\" Here Diamond\nbegan to double up his knees; but Ruby spoke again, and, as young\nDiamond thought, in a rather different tone.\n\n\"I say, Diamond, I can't bear to have an honest old horse like you think\nof me like that. I will tell you the truth: it was my own fault that I\nfell lame.\"\n\n\"I told you so,\" returned the other, tumbling against the partition as\nhe rolled over on his side to give his legs every possible privilege in\ntheir narrow circumstances.\n\n\"I meant to do it, Diamond.\"\n\nAt the words, the old horse arose with a scramble like thunder, shot his\nangry head and glaring eye over into Ruby's stall, and said--\n\n\"Keep out of my way, you unworthy wretch, or I'll bite you. You a horse!\nWhy did you do that?\"\n\n\"Because I wanted to grow fat.\"\n\n\"You grease-tub! Oh! my teeth and tail! I thought you were a humbug! Why\ndid you want to get fat? There's no truth to be got out of you but by\ncross-questioning. You ain't fit to be a horse.\"\n\n\"Because once I am fat, my nature is to keep fat for a long time; and I\ndidn't know when master might come home and want to see me.\"\n\n\"You conceited, good-for-nothing brute! You're only fit for the\nknacker's yard. You wanted to look handsome, did you? Hold your tongue,\nor I'll break my halter and be at you--with your handsome fat!\"\n\n\"Never mind, Diamond. You're a good horse. You can't hurt me.\"\n\n\"Can't hurt you! Just let me once try.\"\n\n\"No, you can't.\"\n\n\"Why then?\"\n\n\"Because I'm an angel.\"\n\n\"What's that?\"\n\n\"Of course you don't know.\"\n\n\"Indeed I don't.\"\n\n\"I know you don't. An ignorant, rude old human horse, like you, couldn't\nknow it. But there's young Diamond listening to all we're saying; and he\nknows well enough there are horses in heaven for angels to ride upon,\nas well as other animals, lions and eagles and bulls, in more important\nsituations. The horses the angels ride, must be angel-horses, else the\nangels couldn't ride upon them. Well, I'm one of them.\"\n\n\"You ain't.\"\n\n\"Did you ever know a horse tell a lie?\"\n\n\"Never before. But you've confessed to shamming lame.\"\n\n\"Nothing of the sort. It was necessary I should grow fat, and necessary\nthat good Joseph, your master, should grow lean. I could have pretended\nto be lame, but that no horse, least of all an angel-horse would do. So\nI must be lame, and so I sprained my ankle--for the angel-horses have\nankles--they don't talk horse-slang up there--and it hurt me very much,\nI assure you, Diamond, though you mayn't be good enough to be able to\nbelieve it.\"\n\nOld Diamond made no reply. He had lain down again, and a sleepy snort,\nvery like a snore, revealed that, if he was not already asleep, he was\npast understanding a word that Ruby was saying. When young Diamond found\nthis, he thought he might venture to take up the dropt shuttlecock of\nthe conversation.\n\n\"I'm good enough to believe it, Ruby,\" he said.\n\nBut Ruby never turned his head, or took any notice of him. I suppose\nhe did not understand more of English than just what the coachman and\nstableman were in the habit of addressing him with. Finding, however,\nthat his companion made no reply, he shot his head over the partition\nand looking down at him said--\n\n\"You just wait till to-morrow, and you'll see whether I'm speaking the\ntruth or not.--I declare the old horse is fast asleep!--Diamond!--No I\nwon't.\"\n\nRuby turned away, and began pulling at his hayrack in silence.\n\nDiamond gave a shiver, and looking round saw that the door of the stable\nwas open. He began to feel as if he had been dreaming, and after a\nglance about the stable to see if North Wind was anywhere visible, he\nthought he had better go back to bed.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIII. THE PROSPECT BRIGHTENS\n\n\nTHE next morning, Diamond's mother said to his father, \"I'm not quite\ncomfortable about that child again.\"\n\n\"Which child, Martha?\" asked Joseph. \"You've got a choice now.\"\n\n\"Well, Diamond I mean. I'm afraid he's getting into his queer ways\nagain. He's been at his old trick of walking in his sleep. I saw him run\nup the stair in the middle of the night.\"\n\n\"Didn't you go after him, wife?\"\n\n\"Of course I did--and found him fast asleep in his bed. It's because\nhe's had so little meat for the last six weeks, I'm afraid.\"\n\n\"It may be that. I'm very sorry. But if it don't please God to send us\nenough, what am I to do, wife?\"\n\n\"You can't help it, I know, my dear good man,\" returned Martha. \"And\nafter all I don't know. I don't see why he shouldn't get on as well as\nthe rest of us. There I'm nursing baby all this time, and I get along\npretty well. I'm sure, to hear the little man singing, you wouldn't\nthink there was much amiss with him.\"\n\nFor at that moment Diamond was singing like a lark in the clouds. He had\nthe new baby in his arms, while his mother was dressing herself. Joseph\nwas sitting at his breakfast--a little weak tea, dry bread, and very\ndubious butter--which Nanny had set for him, and which he was enjoying\nbecause he was hungry. He had groomed both horses, and had got old\nDiamond harnessed ready to put to.\n\n\"Think of a fat angel, Dulcimer!\" said Diamond.\n\nThe baby had not been christened yet, but Diamond, in reading his Bible,\nhad come upon the word dulcimer, and thought it so pretty that ever\nafter he called his sister Dulcimer!\n\n\"Think of a red, fat angel, Dulcimer!\" he repeated; \"for Ruby's an angel\nof a horse, Dulcimer. He sprained his ankle and got fat on purpose.\"\n\n\"What purpose, Diamond?\" asked his father.\n\n\"Ah! that I can't tell. I suppose to look handsome when his master\ncomes,\" answered Diamond.--\"What do you think, Dulcimer? It must be for\nsome good, for Ruby's an angel.\"\n\n\"I wish I were rid of him, anyhow,\" said his father; \"for he weighs\nheavy on my mind.\"\n\n\"No wonder, father: he's so fat,\" said Diamond. \"But you needn't be\nafraid, for everybody says he's in better condition than when you had\nhim.\"\n\n\"Yes, but he may be as thin as a tin horse before his owner comes. It\nwas too bad to leave him on my hands this way.\"\n\n\"Perhaps he couldn't help it,\" suggested Diamond. \"I daresay he has some\ngood reason for it.\"\n\n\"So I should have said,\" returned his father, \"if he had not driven such\na hard bargain with me at first.\"\n\n\"But we don't know what may come of it yet, husband,\" said his wife.\n\"Mr. Raymond may give a little to boot, seeing you've had more of the\nbargain than you wanted or reckoned upon.\"\n\n\"I'm afraid not: he's a hard man,\" said Joseph, as he rose and went to\nget his cab out.\n\nDiamond resumed his singing. For some time he carolled snatches of\neverything or anything; but at last it settled down into something like\nwhat follows. I cannot tell where or how he got it.\n\n\n            Where did you come from, baby dear?\n            Out of the everywhere into here.\n\n            Where did you get your eyes so blue?\n            Out of the sky as I came through.\n\n            What makes the light in them sparkle and spin?\n            Some of the starry spikes left in.\n\n            Where did you get that little tear?\n            I found it waiting when I got here.\n\n            What makes your forehead so smooth and high?\n            A soft hand stroked it as I went by.\n\n            What makes your cheek like a warm white rose?\n            I saw something better than any one knows.\n\n            Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss?\n            Three angels gave me at once a kiss.\n\n            Where did you get this pearly ear?\n            God spoke, and it came out to hear.\n\n            Where did you get those arms and hands?\n            Love made itself into hooks and bands.\n\n            Feet, whence did you come, you darling things?\n            From the same box as the cherubs' wings.\n\n            How did they all just come to be you?\n            God thought about me, and so I grew.\n\n            But how did you come to us, you dear?\n            God thought about you, and so I am here.\n\n\"You never made that song, Diamond,\" said his mother.\n\n\"No, mother. I wish I had. No, I don't. That would be to take it from\nsomebody else. But it's mine for all that.\"\n\n\"What makes it yours?\"\n\n\"I love it so.\"\n\n\"Does loving a thing make it yours?\"\n\n\"I think so, mother--at least more than anything else can. If I didn't\nlove baby (which couldn't be, you know) she wouldn't be mine a bit. But\nI do love baby, and baby is my very own Dulcimer.\"\n\n\"The baby's mine, Diamond.\"\n\n\"That makes her the more mine, mother.\"\n\n\"How do you make that out?\"\n\n\"Because you're mine, mother.\"\n\n\"Is that because you love me?\"\n\n\"Yes, just because. Love makes the only myness,\" said Diamond.\n\nWhen his father came home to have his dinner, and change Diamond for\nRuby, they saw him look very sad, and he told them he had not had a fare\nworth mentioning the whole morning.\n\n\"We shall all have to go to the workhouse, wife,\" he said.\n\n\"It would be better to go to the back of the north wind,\" said Diamond,\ndreamily, not intending to say it aloud.\n\n\"So it would,\" answered his father. \"But how are we to get there,\nDiamond?\"\n\n\"We must wait till we're taken,\" returned Diamond.\n\nBefore his father could speak again, a knock came to the door, and in\nwalked Mr. Raymond with a smile on his face. Joseph got up and received\nhim respectfully, but not very cordially. Martha set a chair for him,\nbut he would not sit down.\n\n\"You are not very glad to see me,\" he said to Joseph. \"You don't want to\npart with the old horse.\"\n\n\"Indeed, sir, you are mistaken there. What with anxiety about him, and\nbad luck, I've wished I were rid of him a thousand times. It was only to\nbe for three months, and here it's eight or nine.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry to hear such a statement,\" said Mr. Raymond. \"Hasn't he been\nof service to you?\"\n\n\"Not much, not with his lameness\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said Mr. Raymond, hastily--\"you've been laming him--have you? That\naccounts for it. I see, I see.\"\n\n\"It wasn't my fault, and he's all right now. I don't know how it\nhappened, but--\"\n\n\"He did it on purpose,\" said Diamond. \"He put his foot on a stone just\nto twist his ankle.\"\n\n\"How do you know that, Diamond?\" said his father, turning to him. \"I\nnever said so, for I could not think how it came.\"\n\n\"I heard it--in the stable,\" answered Diamond.\n\n\"Let's have a look at him,\" said Mr. Raymond.\n\n\"If you'll step into the yard,\" said Joseph, \"I'll bring him out.\"\n\nThey went, and Joseph, having first taken off his harness, walked Ruby\ninto the middle of the yard.\n\n\"Why,\" said Mr. Raymond, \"you've not been using him well.\"\n\n\"I don't know what you mean by that, sir. I didn't expect to hear that\nfrom you. He's sound in wind and limb--as sound as a barrel.\"\n\n\"And as big, you might add. Why, he's as fat as a pig! You don't call\nthat good usage!\"\n\nJoseph was too angry to make any answer.\n\n\"You've not worked him enough, I say. That's not making good use of him.\nThat's not doing as you'd be done by.\"\n\n\"I shouldn't be sorry if I was served the same, sir.\"\n\n\"He's too fat, I say.\"\n\n\"There was a whole month I couldn't work him at all, and he did nothing\nbut eat his head off. He's an awful eater. I've taken the best part of\nsix hours a day out of him since, but I'm always afraid of his coming to\ngrief again, and so I couldn't make the most even of that. I declare to\nyou, sir, when he's between the shafts, I sit on the box as miserable as\nif I'd stolen him. He looks all the time as if he was a bottling up of\ncomplaints to make of me the minute he set eyes on you again. There!\nlook at him now, squinting round at me with one eye! I declare to you,\non my word, I haven't laid the whip on him more than three times.\"\n\n\"I'm glad to hear it. He never did want the whip.\"\n\n\"I didn't say that, sir. If ever a horse wanted the whip, he do. He's\nbrought me to beggary almost with his snail's pace. I'm very glad you've\ncome to rid me of him.\"\n\n\"I don't know that,\" said Mr. Raymond. \"Suppose I were to ask you to buy\nhim of me--cheap.\"\n\n\"I wouldn't have him in a present, sir. I don't like him. And I wouldn't\ndrive a horse that I didn't like--no, not for gold. It can't come to\ngood where there's no love between 'em.\"\n\n\"Just bring out your own horse, and let me see what sort of a pair\nthey'd make.\"\n\nJoseph laughed rather bitterly as he went to fetch Diamond.\n\nWhen the two were placed side by side, Mr. Raymond could hardly keep\nhis countenance, but from a mingling of feelings. Beside the great,\nred, round barrel, Ruby, all body and no legs, Diamond looked like a\nclothes-horse with a skin thrown over it. There was hardly a spot of\nhim where you could not descry some sign of a bone underneath. Gaunt and\ngrim and weary he stood, kissing his master, and heeding no one else.\n\n\"You haven't been using him well,\" said Mr. Raymond.\n\n\"I must say,\" returned Joseph, throwing an arm round his horse's neck,\n\"that the remark had better have been spared, sir. The horse is worth\nthree of the other now.\"\n\n\"I don't think so. I think they make a very nice pair. If the one's too\nfat, the other's too lean--so that's all right. And if you won't buy my\nRuby, I must buy your Diamond.\"\n\n\"Thank you, sir,\" said Joseph, in a tone implying anything but thanks.\n\n\"You don't seem to like the proposal,\" said Mr. Raymond.\n\n\"I don't,\" returned Joseph. \"I wouldn't part with my old Diamond for his\nskin as full of nuggets as it is of bones.\"\n\n\"Who said anything about parting with him?\"\n\n\"You did now, sir.\"\n\n\"No; I didn't. I only spoke of buying him to make a pair with Ruby. We\ncould pare Ruby and patch Diamond a bit. And for height, they are as\nnear a match as I care about. Of course you would be the coachman--if\nonly you would consent to be reconciled to Ruby.\"\n\nJoseph stood bewildered, unable to answer.\n\n\"I've bought a small place in Kent,\" continued Mr. Raymond, \"and I must\nhave a pair to my carriage, for the roads are hilly thereabouts. I don't\nwant to make a show with a pair of high-steppers. I think these will\njust do. Suppose, for a week or two, you set yourself to take Ruby down\nand bring Diamond up. If we could only lay a pipe from Ruby's sides into\nDiamond's, it would be the work of a moment. But I fear that wouldn't\nanswer.\"\n\nA strong inclination to laugh intruded upon Joseph's inclination to cry,\nand made speech still harder than before.\n\n\"I beg your pardon, sir,\" he said at length. \"I've been so miserable,\nand for so long, that I never thought you was only a chaffing of me\nwhen you said I hadn't used the horses well. I did grumble at you, sir,\nmany's the time in my trouble; but whenever I said anything, my little\nDiamond would look at me with a smile, as much as to say: 'I know him\nbetter than you, father;' and upon my word, I always thought the boy\nmust be right.\"\n\n\"Will you sell me old Diamond, then?\"\n\n\"I will, sir, on one condition--that if ever you want to part with him\nor me, you give me the option of buying him. I could not part with him,\nsir. As to who calls him his, that's nothing; for, as Diamond says, it's\nonly loving a thing that can make it yours--and I do love old Diamond,\nsir, dearly.\"\n\n\"Well, there's a cheque for twenty pounds, which I wrote to offer you\nfor him, in case I should find you had done the handsome thing by Ruby.\nWill that be enough?\"\n\n\"It's too much, sir. His body ain't worth it--shoes and all. It's only\nhis heart, sir--that's worth millions--but his heart'll be mine all the\nsame--so it's too much, sir.\"\n\n\"I don't think so. It won't be, at least, by the time we've got him\nfed up again. You take it and welcome. Just go on with your cabbing for\nanother month, only take it out of Ruby and let Diamond rest; and by\nthat time I shall be ready for you to go down into the country.\"\n\n\"Thank you, sir, thank you. Diamond set you down for a friend, sir, the\nmoment he saw you. I do believe that child of mine knows more than other\npeople.\"\n\n\"I think so, too,\" said Mr. Raymond as he walked away.\n\nHe had meant to test Joseph when he made the bargain about Ruby, but had\nno intention of so greatly prolonging the trial. He had been taken ill\nin Switzerland, and had been quite unable to return sooner. He went away\nnow highly gratified at finding that he had stood the test, and was a\ntrue man.\n\nJoseph rushed in to his wife who had been standing at the window\nanxiously waiting the result of the long colloquy. When she heard that\nthe horses were to go together in double harness, she burst forth into\nan immoderate fit of laughter. Diamond came up with the baby in his arms\nand made big anxious eyes at her, saying--\n\n\"What is the matter with you, mother dear? Do cry a little. It will do\nyou good. When father takes ever so small a drop of spirits, he puts\nwater to it.\"\n\n\"You silly darling!\" said his mother; \"how could I but laugh at the\nnotion of that great fat Ruby going side by side with our poor old\nDiamond?\"\n\n\"But why not, mother? With a month's oats, and nothing to do, Diamond'll\nbe nearer Ruby's size than you will father's. I think it's very good for\ndifferent sorts to go together. Now Ruby will have a chance of teaching\nDiamond better manners.\"\n\n\"How dare you say such a thing, Diamond?\" said his father, angrily.\n\"To compare the two for manners, there's no comparison possible. Our\nDiamond's a gentleman.\"\n\n\"I don't mean to say he isn't, father; for I daresay some gentlemen\njudge their neighbours unjustly. That's all I mean. Diamond shouldn't\nhave thought such bad things of Ruby. He didn't try to make the best of\nhim.\"\n\n\"How do you know that, pray?\"\n\n\"I heard them talking about it one night.\"\n\n\"Who?\"\n\n\"Why Diamond and Ruby. Ruby's an angel.\"\n\nJoseph stared and said no more. For all his new gladness, he was very\ngloomy as he re-harnessed the angel, for he thought his darling Diamond\nwas going out of his mind.\n\nHe could not help thinking rather differently, however, when he found\nthe change that had come over Ruby. Considering his fat, he exerted\nhimself amazingly, and got over the ground with incredible speed. So\nwilling, even anxious, was he to go now, that Joseph had to hold him\nquite tight.\n\nThen as he laughed at his own fancies, a new fear came upon him lest the\nhorse should break his wind, and Mr. Raymond have good cause to think\nhe had not been using him well. He might even suppose that he had taken\nadvantage of his new instructions, to let out upon the horse some of his\npent-up dislike; whereas in truth, it had so utterly vanished that he\nfelt as if Ruby, too, had been his friend all the time.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIV. IN THE COUNTRY\n\n\nBEFORE the end of the month, Ruby had got respectably thin, and Diamond\nrespectably stout. They really began to look fit for double harness.\n\nJoseph and his wife got their affairs in order, and everything ready for\nmigrating at the shortest notice; and they felt so peaceful and happy\nthat they judged all the trouble they had gone through well worth\nenduring. As for Nanny, she had been so happy ever since she left the\nhospital, that she expected nothing better, and saw nothing attractive\nin the notion of the country. At the same time, she had not the least\nidea of what the word country meant, for she had never seen anything\nabout her but streets and gas-lamps. Besides, she was more attached to\nJim than to Diamond: Jim was a reasonable being, Diamond in her eyes at\nbest only an amiable, over-grown baby, whom no amount of expostulation\nwould ever bring to talk sense, not to say think it. Now that she\ncould manage the baby as well as he, she judged herself altogether his\nsuperior. Towards his father and mother, she was all they could wish.\n\nDiamond had taken a great deal of pains and trouble to find Jim, and had\nat last succeeded through the help of the tall policeman, who was glad\nto renew his acquaintance with the strange child. Jim had moved his\nquarters, and had not heard of Nanny's illness till some time after she\nwas taken to the hospital, where he was too shy to go and inquire about\nher. But when at length she went to live with Diamond's family, Jim was\nwilling enough to go and see her. It was after one of his visits, during\nwhich they had been talking of her new prospects, that Nanny expressed\nto Diamond her opinion of the country.\n\n\"There ain't nothing in it but the sun and moon, Diamond.\"\n\n\"There's trees and flowers,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"Well, they ain't no count,\" returned Nanny.\n\n\"Ain't they? They're so beautiful, they make you happy to look at them.\"\n\n\"That's because you're such a silly.\"\n\nDiamond smiled with a far-away look, as if he were gazing through clouds\nof green leaves and the vision contented him. But he was thinking with\nhimself what more he could do for Nanny; and that same evening he went\nto find Mr. Raymond, for he had heard that he had returned to town.\n\n\"Ah! how do you do, Diamond?\" said Mr. Raymond; \"I am glad to see you.\"\n\nAnd he was indeed, for he had grown very fond of him. His opinion of him\nwas very different from Nanny's.\n\n\"What do you want now, my child?\" he asked.\n\n\"I'm always wanting something, sir,\" answered Diamond.\n\n\"Well, that's quite right, so long as what you want is right. Everybody\nis always wanting something; only we don't mention it in the right place\noften enough. What is it now?\"\n\n\"There's a friend of Nanny's, a lame boy, called Jim.\"\n\n\"I've heard of him,\" said Mr. Raymond. \"Well?\"\n\n\"Nanny doesn't care much about going to the country, sir.\"\n\n\"Well, what has that to do with Jim?\"\n\n\"You couldn't find a corner for Jim to work in--could you, sir?\"\n\n\"I don't know that I couldn't. That is, if you can show good reason for\nit.\"\n\n\"He's a good boy, sir.\"\n\n\"Well, so much the better for him.\"\n\n\"I know he can shine boots, sir.\"\n\n\"So much the better for us.\"\n\n\"You want your boots shined in the country--don't you, sir?\"\n\n\"Yes, to be sure.\"\n\n\"It wouldn't be nice to walk over the flowers with dirty boots--would\nit, sir?\"\n\n\"No, indeed.\"\n\n\"They wouldn't like it--would they?\"\n\n\"No, they wouldn't.\"\n\n\"Then Nanny would be better pleased to go, sir.\"\n\n\"If the flowers didn't like dirty boots to walk over them, Nanny\nwouldn't mind going to the country? Is that it? I don't quite see it.\"\n\n\"No, sir; I didn't mean that. I meant, if you would take Jim with you to\nclean your boots, and do odd jobs, you know, sir, then Nanny would like\nit better. She's so fond of Jim!\"\n\n\"Now you come to the point, Diamond. I see what you mean, exactly. I\nwill turn it over in my mind. Could you bring Jim to see me?\"\n\n\"I'll try, sir. But they don't mind me much. They think I'm silly,\"\nadded Diamond, with one of his sweetest smiles.\n\nWhat Mr. Raymond thought, I dare hardly attempt to put down here. But\none part of it was, that the highest wisdom must ever appear folly to\nthose who do not possess it.\n\n\"I think he would come though--after dark, you know,\" Diamond continued.\n\"He does well at shining boots. People's kind to lame boys, you know,\nsir. But after dark, there ain't so much doing.\"\n\nDiamond succeeded in bringing Jim to Mr. Raymond, and the consequence\nwas that he resolved to give the boy a chance. He provided new clothes\nfor both him and Nanny; and upon a certain day, Joseph took his wife and\nthree children, and Nanny and Jim, by train to a certain station in the\ncounty of Kent, where they found a cart waiting to carry them and their\nluggage to The Mound, which was the name of Mr. Raymond's new residence.\nI will not describe the varied feelings of the party as they went, or\nwhen they arrived. All I will say is, that Diamond, who is my only care,\nwas full of quiet delight--a gladness too deep to talk about.\n\nJoseph returned to town the same night, and the next morning drove Ruby\nand Diamond down, with the carriage behind them, and Mr. Raymond and a\nlady in the carriage. For Mr. Raymond was an old bachelor no longer: he\nwas bringing his wife with him to live at The Mound. The moment Nanny\nsaw her, she recognised her as the lady who had lent her the ruby-ring.\nThat ring had been given her by Mr. Raymond.\n\nThe weather was very hot, and the woods very shadowy. There were not a\ngreat many wild flowers, for it was getting well towards autumn, and the\nmost of the wild flowers rise early to be before the leaves, because\nif they did not, they would never get a glimpse of the sun for them. So\nthey have their fun over, and are ready to go to bed again by the time\nthe trees are dressed. But there was plenty of the loveliest grass and\ndaisies about the house, and Diamond's chief pleasure seemed to be to\nlie amongst them, and breathe the pure air. But all the time, he was\ndreaming of the country at the back of the north wind, and trying to\nrecall the songs the river used to sing. For this was more like being at\nthe back of the north wind than anything he had known since he left it.\nSometimes he would have his little brother, sometimes his little sister,\nand sometimes both of them in the grass with him, and then he felt just\nlike a cat with her first kittens, he said, only he couldn't purr--all\nhe could do was to sing.\n\nThese were very different times from those when he used to drive the\ncab, but you must not suppose that Diamond was idle. He did not do so\nmuch for his mother now, because Nanny occupied his former place; but\nhe helped his father still, both in the stable and the harness-room, and\ngenerally went with him on the box that he might learn to drive a pair,\nand be ready to open the carriage-door. Mr. Raymond advised his father\nto give him plenty of liberty.\n\n\"A boy like that,\" he said, \"ought not to be pushed.\"\n\nJoseph assented heartily, smiling to himself at the idea of pushing\nDiamond. After doing everything that fell to his share, the boy had a\nwealth of time at his disposal. And a happy, sometimes a merry time it\nwas. Only for two months or so, he neither saw nor heard anything of\nNorth Wind.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXV. I MAKE DIAMOND'S ACQUAINTANCE\n\n\nMR. RAYMOND'S house was called The Mound, because it stood upon a little\nsteep knoll, so smooth and symmetrical that it showed itself at once to\nbe artificial. It had, beyond doubt, been built for Queen Elizabeth as a\nhunting tower--a place, namely, from the top of which you could see the\ncountry for miles on all sides, and so be able to follow with your eyes\nthe flying deer and the pursuing hounds and horsemen. The mound had been\ncast up to give a good basement-advantage over the neighbouring heights\nand woods. There was a great quarry-hole not far off, brim-full of\nwater, from which, as the current legend stated, the materials forming\nthe heart of the mound--a kind of stone unfit for building--had been\ndug. The house itself was of brick, and they said the foundations were\nfirst laid in the natural level, and then the stones and earth of the\nmound were heaped about and between them, so that its great height\nshould be well buttressed.\n\nJoseph and his wife lived in a little cottage a short way from the\nhouse. It was a real cottage, with a roof of thick thatch, which, in\nJune and July, the wind sprinkled with the red and white petals it shook\nfrom the loose topmost sprays of the rose-trees climbing the walls. At\nfirst Diamond had a nest under this thatch--a pretty little room with\nwhite muslin curtains, but afterwards Mr. and Mrs. Raymond wanted to\nhave him for a page in the house, and his father and mother were quite\npleased to have him employed without his leaving them. So he was dressed\nin a suit of blue, from which his pale face and fair hair came out like\nthe loveliest blossom, and took up his abode in the house.\n\n\"Would you be afraid to sleep alone, Diamond?\" asked his mistress.\n\n\"I don't know what you mean, ma'am,\" said Diamond. \"I never was afraid\nof anything that I can recollect--not much, at least.\"\n\n\"There's a little room at the top of the house--all alone,\" she\nreturned; \"perhaps you would not mind sleeping there?\"\n\n\"I can sleep anywhere, and I like best to be high up. Should I be able\nto see out?\"\n\n\"I will show you the place,\" she answered; and taking him by the hand,\nshe led him up and up the oval-winding stair in one of the two towers.\n\nNear the top they entered a tiny little room, with two windows from\nwhich you could see over the whole country. Diamond clapped his hands\nwith delight.\n\n\"You would like this room, then, Diamond?\" said his mistress.\n\n\"It's the grandest room in the house,\" he answered. \"I shall be near the\nstars, and yet not far from the tops of the trees. That's just what I\nlike.\"\n\nI daresay he thought, also, that it would be a nice place for North\nWind to call at in passing; but he said nothing of that sort. Below him\nspread a lake of green leaves, with glimpses of grass here and there at\nthe bottom of it. As he looked down, he saw a squirrel appear suddenly,\nand as suddenly vanish amongst the topmost branches.\n\n\"Aha! little squirrel,\" he cried, \"my nest is built higher than yours.\"\n\n\"You can be up here with your books as much as you like,\" said his\nmistress. \"I will have a little bell hung at the door, which I can ring\nwhen I want you. Half-way down the stair is the drawing-room.\"\n\nSo Diamond was installed as page, and his new room got ready for him.\n\nIt was very soon after this that I came to know Diamond. I was then a\ntutor in a family whose estate adjoined the little property belonging\nto The Mound. I had made the acquaintance of Mr. Raymond in London some\ntime before, and was walking up the drive towards the house to call upon\nhim one fine warm evening, when I saw Diamond for the first time. He was\nsitting at the foot of a great beech-tree, a few yards from the road,\nwith a book on his knees. He did not see me. I walked up behind\nthe tree, and peeping over his shoulder, saw that he was reading a\nfairy-book.\n\n\"What are you reading?\" I said, and spoke suddenly, with the hope of\nseeing a startled little face look round at me. Diamond turned his\nhead as quietly as if he were only obeying his mother's voice, and the\ncalmness of his face rebuked my unkind desire and made me ashamed of it.\n\n\"I am reading the story of the Little Lady and the Goblin Prince,\" said\nDiamond.\n\n\"I am sorry I don't know the story,\" I returned. \"Who is it by?\"\n\n\"Mr. Raymond made it.\"\n\n\"Is he your uncle?\" I asked at a guess.\n\n\"No. He's my master.\"\n\n\"What do you do for him?\" I asked respectfully.\n\n\"Anything he wishes me to do,\" he answered. \"I am busy for him now. He\ngave me this story to read. He wants my opinion upon it.\"\n\n\"Don't you find it rather hard to make up your mind?\"\n\n\"Oh dear no! Any story always tells me itself what I'm to think about\nit. Mr. Raymond doesn't want me to say whether it is a clever story or\nnot, but whether I like it, and why I like it. I never can tell what\nthey call clever from what they call silly, but I always know whether I\nlike a story or not.\"\n\n\"And can you always tell why you like it or not?\"\n\n\"No. Very often I can't at all. Sometimes I can. I always know, but I\ncan't always tell why. Mr. Raymond writes the stories, and then tries\nthem on me. Mother does the same when she makes jam. She's made such a\nlot of jam since we came here! And she always makes me taste it to see\nif it'll do. Mother knows by the face I make whether it will or not.\"\n\nAt this moment I caught sight of two more children approaching. One was\na handsome girl, the other a pale-faced, awkward-looking boy, who limped\nmuch on one leg. I withdrew a little, to see what would follow, for they\nseemed in some consternation. After a few hurried words, they went\noff together, and I pursued my way to the house, where I was as kindly\nreceived by Mr. and Mrs. Raymond as I could have desired. From them I\nlearned something of Diamond, and was in consequence the more glad to\nfind him, when I returned, seated in the same place as before.\n\n\"What did the boy and girl want with you, Diamond?\" I asked.\n\n\"They had seen a creature that frightened them.\"\n\n\"And they came to tell you about it?\"\n\n\"They couldn't get water out of the well for it. So they wanted me to go\nwith them.\"\n\n\"They're both bigger than you.\"\n\n\"Yes, but they were frightened at it.\"\n\n\"And weren't you frightened at it?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Because I'm silly. I'm never frightened at things.\"\n\nI could not help thinking of the old meaning of the word silly.\n\n\"And what was it?\" I asked.\n\n\"I think it was a kind of an angel--a very little one. It had a long\nbody and great wings, which it drove about it so fast that they grew a\nthin cloud all round it. It flew backwards and forwards over the well,\nor hung right in the middle, making a mist of its wings, as if its\nbusiness was to take care of the water.\"\n\n\"And what did you do to drive it away?\"\n\n\"I didn't drive it away. I knew, whatever the creature was, the well\nwas to get water out of. So I took the jug, dipped it in, and drew the\nwater.\"\n\n\"And what did the creature do?\"\n\n\"Flew about.\"\n\n\"And it didn't hurt you?\"\n\n\"No. Why should it? I wasn't doing anything wrong.\"\n\n\"What did your companions say then?\"\n\n\"They said--`Thank you, Diamond. What a dear silly you are!'\"\n\n\"And weren't you angry with them?\"\n\n\"No! Why should I? I should like if they would play with me a little;\nbut they always like better to go away together when their work is over.\nThey never heed me. I don't mind it much, though. The other creatures\nare friendly. They don't run away from me. Only they're all so busy with\ntheir own work, they don't mind me much.\"\n\n\"Do you feel lonely, then?\"\n\n\"Oh, no! When nobody minds me, I get into my nest, and look up. And then\nthe sky does mind me, and thinks about me.\"\n\n\"Where is your nest?\"\n\nHe rose, saying, \"I will show you,\" and led me to the other side of the\ntree.\n\nThere hung a little rope-ladder from one of the lower boughs. The boy\nclimbed up the ladder and got upon the bough. Then he climbed farther\ninto the leafy branches, and went out of sight.\n\nAfter a little while, I heard his voice coming down out of the tree.\n\n\"I am in my nest now,\" said the voice.\n\n\"I can't see you,\" I returned.\n\n\"I can't see you either, but I can see the first star peeping out of the\nsky. I should like to get up into the sky. Don't you think I shall, some\nday?\"\n\n\"Yes, I do. Tell me what more you see up there.\"\n\n\"I don't see anything more, except a few leaves, and the big sky over\nme. It goes swinging about. The earth is all behind my back. There comes\nanother star! The wind is like kisses from a big lady. When I get up\nhere I feel as if I were in North Wind's arms.\"\n\nThis was the first I heard of North Wind.\n\nThe whole ways and look of the child, so full of quiet wisdom, yet so\nready to accept the judgment of others in his own dispraise, took hold\nof my heart, and I felt myself wonderfully drawn towards him. It seemed\nto me, somehow, as if little Diamond possessed the secret of life, and\nwas himself what he was so ready to think the lowest living thing--an\nangel of God with something special to say or do. A gush of reverence\ncame over me, and with a single goodnight, I turned and left him in his\nnest.\n\nI saw him often after this, and gained so much of his confidence that he\ntold me all I have told you. I cannot pretend to account for it. I leave\nthat for each philosophical reader to do after his own fashion. The\neasiest way is that of Nanny and Jim, who said often to each other\nthat Diamond had a tile loose. But Mr. Raymond was much of my opinion\nconcerning the boy; while Mrs. Raymond confessed that she often rang her\nbell just to have once more the pleasure of seeing the lovely stillness\nof the boy's face, with those blue eyes which seemed rather made for\nother people to look into than for himself to look out of.\n\nIt was plainer to others than to himself that he felt the desertion of\nNanny and Jim. They appeared to regard him as a mere toy, except when\nthey found he could minister to the scruple of using him--generally with\nsuccess. They were, however, well-behaved to a wonderful degree; while\nI have little doubt that much of their good behaviour was owing to the\nunconscious influence of the boy they called God's baby.\n\nOne very strange thing is that I could never find out where he got some\nof his many songs. At times they would be but bubbles blown out of a\nnursery rhyme, as was the following, which I heard him sing one evening\nto his little Dulcimer. There were about a score of sheep feeding in a\npaddock near him, their white wool dyed a pale rose in the light of the\nsetting sun. Those in the long shadows from the trees were dead white;\nthose in the sunlight were half glorified with pale rose.\n\n\n         Little Bo Peep, she lost her sheep,\n            And didn't know where to find them;\n         They were over the height and out of sight,\n            Trailing their tails behind them.\n\n         Little Bo Peep woke out of her sleep,\n            Jump'd up and set out to find them:\n         \"The silly things, they've got no wings,\n            And they've left their trails behind them:\n\n   \"They've taken their tails, but they've left their trails,\n   And so I shall follow and find them;\"\n   For wherever a tail had dragged a trail,\n   The long grass grew behind them.\n\n   And day's eyes and butter-cups, cow's lips and crow's feet\n   Were glittering in the sun.\n   She threw down her book, and caught up her crook,\n   And after her sheep did run.\n\n   She ran, and she ran, and ever as she ran,\n   The grass grew higher and higher;\n   Till over the hill the sun began\n   To set in a flame of fire.\n\n   She ran on still--up the grassy hill,\n   And the grass grew higher and higher;\n   When she reached its crown, the sun was down,\n   And had left a trail of fire.\n\n   The sheep and their tails were gone, all gone--\n   And no more trail behind them!\n   Yes, yes!  they were there--long-tailed and fair,\n   But, alas!  she could not find them.\n\n   Purple and gold, and rosy and blue,\n   With their tails all white behind them,\n   Her sheep they did run in the trail of the sun;\n   She saw them, but could not find them.\n\n   After the sun, like clouds they did run,\n   But she knew they were her sheep:\n   She sat down to cry, and look up at the sky,\n   But she cried herself asleep.\n\n   And as she slept the dew fell fast,\n   And the wind blew from the sky;\n   And strange things took place that shun the day's face,\n   Because they are sweet and shy.\n\n   Nibble, nibble, crop!  she heard as she woke:\n   A hundred little lambs\n   Did pluck and eat the grass so sweet\n   That grew in the trails of their dams.\n\n   Little Bo Peep caught up her crook,\n   And wiped the tears that did blind her.\n   And nibble, nibble crop! without a stop!\n   The lambs came eating behind her.\n\n   Home, home she came, both tired and lame,\n   With three times as many sheep.\n   In a month or more, they'll be as big as before,\n   And then she'll laugh in her sleep.\n\n   But what would you say, if one fine day,\n   When they've got their bushiest tails,\n   Their grown up game should be just the same,\n   And she have to follow their trails?\n\n   Never weep, Bo Peep, though you lose your sheep,\n   And do not know where to find them;\n   'Tis after the sun the mothers have run,\n   And there are their lambs behind them.\n\nI confess again to having touched up a little, but it loses far more\nin Diamond's sweet voice singing it than it gains by a rhyme here and\nthere.\n\nSome of them were out of books Mr. Raymond had given him. These he\nalways knew, but about the others he could seldom tell. Sometimes he\nwould say, \"I made that one.\" but generally he would say, \"I don't know;\nI found it somewhere;\" or \"I got it at the back of the north wind.\"\n\nOne evening I found him sitting on the grassy slope under the house,\nwith his Dulcimer in his arms and his little brother rolling on the\ngrass beside them. He was chanting in his usual way, more like the sound\nof a brook than anything else I can think of. When I went up to them he\nceased his chant.\n\n\"Do go on, Diamond. Don't mind me,\" I said.\n\nHe began again at once. While he sang, Nanny and Jim sat a little way\noff, one hemming a pocket-handkerchief, and the other reading a story\nto her, but they never heeded Diamond. This is as near what he sang as I\ncan recollect, or reproduce rather.\n\n   What would you see if I took you up\n   To my little nest in the air?\n   You would see the sky like a clear blue cup\n   Turned upside downwards there.\n\n   What would you do if I took you there\n   To my little nest in the tree?\n   My child with cries would trouble the air,\n   To get what she could but see.\n\n   What would you get in the top of the tree\n   For all your crying and grief?\n   Not a star would you clutch of all you see--\n   You could only gather a leaf.\n\n   But when you had lost your greedy grief,\n   Content to see from afar,\n   You would find in your hand a withering leaf,\n   In your heart a shining star.\n\nAs Diamond went on singing, it grew very dark, and just as he ceased\nthere came a great flash of lightning, that blinded us all for a moment.\nDulcimer crowed with pleasure; but when the roar of thunder came after\nit, the little brother gave a loud cry of terror. Nanny and Jim came\nrunning up to us, pale with fear. Diamond's face, too, was paler than\nusual, but with delight. Some of the glory seemed to have clung to it,\nand remained shining.\n\n\"You're not frightened--are you, Diamond?\" I said.\n\n\"No. Why should I be?\" he answered with his usual question, looking up\nin my face with calm shining eyes.\n\n\"He ain't got sense to be frightened,\" said Nanny, going up to him and\ngiving him a pitying hug.\n\n\"Perhaps there's more sense in not being frightened, Nanny,\" I returned.\n\"Do you think the lightning can do as it likes?\"\n\n\"It might kill you,\" said Jim.\n\n\"Oh, no, it mightn't!\" said Diamond.\n\nAs he spoke there came another great flash, and a tearing crack.\n\n\"There's a tree struck!\" I said; and when we looked round, after the\nblinding of the flash had left our eyes, we saw a huge bough of the\nbeech-tree in which was Diamond's nest hanging to the ground like the\nbroken wing of a bird.\n\n\"There!\" cried Nanny; \"I told you so. If you had been up there you see\nwhat would have happened, you little silly!\"\n\n\"No, I don't,\" said Diamond, and began to sing to Dulcimer. All I\ncould hear of the song, for the other children were going on with their\nchatter, was--\n\n                     The clock struck one,\n                     And the mouse came down.\n                     Dickery, dickery, dock!\n\nThen there came a blast of wind, and the rain followed in\nstraight-pouring lines, as if out of a watering-pot. Diamond jumped up\nwith his little Dulcimer in his arms, and Nanny caught up the little\nboy, and they ran for the cottage. Jim vanished with a double shuffle,\nand I went into the house.\n\nWhen I came out again to return home, the clouds were gone, and the\nevening sky glimmered through the trees, blue, and pale-green towards\nthe west, I turned my steps a little aside to look at the stricken\nbeech. I saw the bough torn from the stem, and that was all the twilight\nwould allow me to see. While I stood gazing, down from the sky came a\nsound of singing, but the voice was neither of lark nor of nightingale:\nit was sweeter than either: it was the voice of Diamond, up in his airy\nnest:--\n\n                     The lightning and thunder,\n                     They go and they come;\n                     But the stars and the stillness\n                     Are always at home.\n\nAnd then the voice ceased.\n\n\"Good-night, Diamond,\" I said.\n\n\"Good-night, sir,\" answered Diamond.\n\nAs I walked away pondering, I saw the great black top of the beech\nswaying about against the sky in an upper wind, and heard the murmur as\nof many dim half-articulate voices filling the solitude around Diamond's\nnest.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVI. DIAMOND QUESTIONS NORTH WIND\n\n\nMY READERS will not wonder that, after this, I did my very best to gain\nthe friendship of Diamond. Nor did I find this at all difficult, the\nchild was so ready to trust. Upon one subject alone was he reticent--the\nstory of his relations with North Wind. I fancy he could not quite make\nup his mind what to think of them. At all events it was some little time\nbefore he trusted me with this, only then he told me everything. If\nI could not regard it all in exactly the same light as he did, I was,\nwhile guiltless of the least pretence, fully sympathetic, and he\nwas satisfied without demanding of me any theory of difficult points\ninvolved. I let him see plainly enough, that whatever might be the\nexplanation of the marvellous experience, I would have given much for a\nsimilar one myself.\n\nOn an evening soon after the thunderstorm, in a late twilight, with\na half-moon high in the heavens, I came upon Diamond in the act of\nclimbing by his little ladder into the beech-tree.\n\n\"What are you always going up there for, Diamond?\" I heard Nanny ask,\nrather rudely, I thought.\n\n\"Sometimes for one thing, sometimes for another, Nanny,\" answered\nDiamond, looking skywards as he climbed.\n\n\"You'll break your neck some day,\" she said.\n\n\"I'm going up to look at the moon to-night,\" he added, without heeding\nher remark.\n\n\"You'll see the moon just as well down here,\" she returned.\n\n\"I don't think so.\"\n\n\"You'll be no nearer to her up there.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes! I shall. I must be nearer her, you know. I wish I could dream\nas pretty dreams about her as you can, Nanny.\"\n\n\"You silly! you never have done about that dream. I never dreamed but\nthat one, and it was nonsense enough, I'm sure.\"\n\n\"It wasn't nonsense. It was a beautiful dream--and a funny one too, both\nin one.\"\n\n\"But what's the good of talking about it that way, when you know it was\nonly a dream? Dreams ain't true.\"\n\n\"That one was true, Nanny. You know it was. Didn't you come to grief for\ndoing what you were told not to do? And isn't that true?\"\n\n\"I can't get any sense into him,\" exclaimed Nanny, with an expression of\nmild despair. \"Do you really believe, Diamond, that there's a house in\nthe moon, with a beautiful lady and a crooked old man and dusters in\nit?\"\n\n\"If there isn't, there's something better,\" he answered, and vanished in\nthe leaves over our heads.\n\nI went into the house, where I visited often in the evenings. When I\ncame out, there was a little wind blowing, very pleasant after the heat\nof the day, for although it was late summer now, it was still hot. The\ntree-tops were swinging about in it. I took my way past the beech, and\ncalled up to see if Diamond were still in his nest in its rocking head.\n\n\"Are you there, Diamond?\" I said.\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" came his clear voice in reply.\n\n\"Isn't it growing too dark for you to get down safely?\"\n\n\"Oh, no, sir--if I take time to it. I know my way so well, and never let\ngo with one hand till I've a good hold with the other.\"\n\n\"Do be careful,\" I insisted--foolishly, seeing the boy was as careful as\nhe could be already.\n\n\"I'm coming,\" he returned. \"I've got all the moon I want to-night.\"\n\n\nI heard a rustling and a rustling drawing nearer and nearer. Three or\nfour minutes elapsed, and he appeared at length creeping down his little\nladder. I took him in my arms, and set him on the ground.\n\n\"Thank you, sir,\" he said. \"That's the north wind blowing, isn't it,\nsir?\"\n\n\"I can't tell,\" I answered. \"It feels cool and kind, and I think it may\nbe. But I couldn't be sure except it were stronger, for a gentle wind\nmight turn any way amongst the trunks of the trees.\"\n\n\"I shall know when I get up to my own room,\" said Diamond. \"I think I\nhear my mistress's bell. Good-night, sir.\"\n\nHe ran to the house, and I went home.\n\nHis mistress had rung for him only to send him to bed, for she was very\ncareful over him and I daresay thought he was not looking well. When he\nreached his own room, he opened both his windows, one of which looked to\nthe north and the other to the east, to find how the wind blew. It blew\nright in at the northern window. Diamond was very glad, for he thought\nperhaps North Wind herself would come now: a real north wind had never\nblown all the time since he left London. But, as she always came of\nherself, and never when he was looking for her, and indeed almost never\nwhen he was thinking of her, he shut the east window, and went to bed.\nPerhaps some of my readers may wonder that he could go to sleep with\nsuch an expectation; and, indeed, if I had not known him, I should have\nwondered at it myself; but it was one of his peculiarities, and seemed\nnothing strange in him. He was so full of quietness that he could go\nto sleep almost any time, if he only composed himself and let the sleep\ncome. This time he went fast asleep as usual.\n\nBut he woke in the dim blue night. The moon had vanished. He thought he\nheard a knocking at his door. \"Somebody wants me,\" he said to himself,\nand jumping out of bed, ran to open it.\n\nBut there was no one there. He closed it again, and, the noise still\ncontinuing, found that another door in the room was rattling. It\nbelonged to a closet, he thought, but he had never been able to open it.\nThe wind blowing in at the window must be shaking it. He would go and\nsee if it was so.\n\nThe door now opened quite easily, but to his surprise, instead of a\ncloset he found a long narrow room. The moon, which was sinking in the\nwest, shone in at an open window at the further end. The room was\nlow with a coved ceiling, and occupied the whole top of the house,\nimmediately under the roof. It was quite empty. The yellow light of\nthe half-moon streamed over the dark floor. He was so delighted at the\ndiscovery of the strange, desolate, moonlit place close to his own snug\nlittle room, that he began to dance and skip about the floor. The wind\ncame in through the door he had left open, and blew about him as he\ndanced, and he kept turning towards it that it might blow in his face.\nHe kept picturing to himself the many places, lovely and desolate, the\nhill-sides and farm-yards and tree-tops and meadows, over which it had\nblown on its way to The Mound. And as he danced, he grew more and more\ndelighted with the motion and the wind; his feet grew stronger, and his\nbody lighter, until at length it seemed as if he were borne up on the\nair, and could almost fly. So strong did his feeling become, that at\nlast he began to doubt whether he was not in one of those precious\ndreams he had so often had, in which he floated about on the air at\nwill. But something made him look up, and to his unspeakable delight, he\nfound his uplifted hands lying in those of North Wind, who was dancing\nwith him, round and round the long bare room, her hair now falling to\nthe floor, now filling the arched ceiling, her eyes shining on him like\nthinking stars, and the sweetest of grand smiles playing breezily about\nher beautiful mouth. She was, as so often before, of the height of a\nrather tall lady. She did not stoop in order to dance with him, but held\nhis hands high in hers. When he saw her, he gave one spring, and his\narms were about her neck, and her arms holding him to her bosom. The\nsame moment she swept with him through the open window in at which\nthe moon was shining, made a circuit like a bird about to alight, and\nsettled with him in his nest on the top of the great beech-tree. There\nshe placed him on her lap and began to hush him as if he were her own\nbaby, and Diamond was so entirely happy that he did not care to speak a\nword. At length, however, he found that he was going to sleep, and\nthat would be to lose so much, that, pleasant as it was, he could not\nconsent.\n\n\"Please, dear North Wind,\" he said, \"I am so happy that I'm afraid it's\na dream. How am I to know that it's not a dream?\"\n\n\"What does it matter?\" returned North Wind.\n\n\"I should, cry\" said Diamond.\n\n\"But why should you cry? The dream, if it is a dream, is a pleasant\none--is it not?\"\n\n\"That's just why I want it to be true.\"\n\n\"Have you forgotten what you said to Nanny about her dream?\"\n\n\"It's not for the dream itself--I mean, it's not for the pleasure of\nit,\" answered Diamond, \"for I have that, whether it be a dream or not;\nit's for you, North Wind; I can't bear to find it a dream, because then\nI should lose you. You would be nobody then, and I could not bear that.\nYou ain't a dream, are you, dear North Wind? Do say No, else I shall\ncry, and come awake, and you'll be gone for ever. I daren't dream about\nyou once again if you ain't anybody.\"\n\n\"I'm either not a dream, or there's something better that's not a dream,\nDiamond,\" said North Wind, in a rather sorrowful tone, he thought.\n\n\"But it's not something better--it's you I want, North Wind,\" he\npersisted, already beginning to cry a little.\n\nShe made no answer, but rose with him in her arms and sailed away over\nthe tree-tops till they came to a meadow, where a flock of sheep was\nfeeding.\n\n\"Do you remember what the song you were singing a week ago says about\nBo-Peep--how she lost her sheep, but got twice as many lambs?\" asked\nNorth Wind, sitting down on the grass, and placing him in her lap as\nbefore.\n\n\"Oh yes, I do, well enough,\" answered Diamond; \"but I never just quite\nliked that rhyme.\"\n\n\"Why not, child?\"\n\n\"Because it seems to say one's as good as another, or two new ones are\nbetter than one that's lost. I've been thinking about it a great deal,\nand it seems to me that although any one sixpence is as good as any\nother sixpence, not twenty lambs would do instead of one sheep whose\nface you knew. Somehow, when once you've looked into anybody's eyes,\nright deep down into them, I mean, nobody will do for that one any more.\nNobody, ever so beautiful or so good, will make up for that one going\nout of sight. So you see, North Wind, I can't help being frightened to\nthink that perhaps I am only dreaming, and you are nowhere at all. Do\ntell me that you are my own, real, beautiful North Wind.\"\n\nAgain she rose, and shot herself into the air, as if uneasy because she\ncould not answer him; and Diamond lay quiet in her arms, waiting\nfor what she would say. He tried to see up into her face, for he was\ndreadfully afraid she was not answering him because she could not say\nthat she was not a dream; but she had let her hair fall all over her\nface so that he could not see it. This frightened him still more.\n\n\"Do speak, North Wind,\" he said at last.\n\n\"I never speak when I have nothing to say,\" she replied.\n\n\"Then I do think you must be a real North Wind, and no dream,\" said\nDiamond.\n\n\"But I'm looking for something to say all the time.\"\n\n\"But I don't want you to say what's hard to find. If you were to say one\nword to comfort me that wasn't true, then I should know you must be a\ndream, for a great beautiful lady like you could never tell a lie.\"\n\n\"But she mightn't know how to say what she had to say, so that a little\nboy like you would understand it,\" said North Wind. \"Here, let us get\ndown again, and I will try to tell you what I think. You musn't suppose\nI am able to answer all your questions, though. There are a great many\nthings I don't understand more than you do.\"\n\nShe descended on a grassy hillock, in the midst of a wild furzy common.\nThere was a rabbit-warren underneath, and some of the rabbits came out\nof their holes, in the moonlight, looking very sober and wise, just like\npatriarchs standing in their tent-doors, and looking about them before\ngoing to bed. When they saw North Wind, instead of turning round and\nvanishing again with a thump of their heels, they cantered slowly up to\nher and snuffled all about her with their long upper lips, which moved\nevery way at once. That was their way of kissing her; and, as she talked\nto Diamond, she would every now and then stroke down their furry backs,\nor lift and play with their long ears. They would, Diamond thought, have\nleaped upon her lap, but that he was there already.\n\n\"I think,\" said she, after they had been sitting silent for a while,\n\"that if I were only a dream, you would not have been able to love me\nso. You love me when you are not with me, don't you?\"\n\n\"Indeed I do,\" answered Diamond, stroking her hand. \"I see! I see! How\ncould I be able to love you as I do if you weren't there at all, you\nknow? Besides, I couldn't be able to dream anything half so beautiful\nall out of my own head; or if I did, I couldn't love a fancy of my own\nlike that, could I?\"\n\n\"I think not. You might have loved me in a dream, dreamily, and\nforgotten me when you woke, I daresay, but not loved me like a real\nbeing as you love me. Even then, I don't think you could dream anything\nthat hadn't something real like it somewhere. But you've seen me in many\nshapes, Diamond: you remember I was a wolf once--don't you?\"\n\n\"Oh yes--a good wolf that frightened a naughty drunken nurse.\"\n\n\"Well, suppose I were to turn ugly, would you rather I weren't a dream\nthen?\"\n\n\"Yes; for I should know that you were beautiful inside all the same. You\nwould love me, and I should love you all the same. I shouldn't like you\nto look ugly, you know. But I shouldn't believe it a bit.\"\n\n\"Not if you saw it?\"\n\n\"No, not if I saw it ever so plain.\"\n\n\"There's my Diamond! I will tell you all I know about it then. I don't\nthink I am just what you fancy me to be. I have to shape myself various\nways to various people. But the heart of me is true. People call me\nby dreadful names, and think they know all about me. But they don't.\nSometimes they call me Bad Fortune, sometimes Evil Chance, sometimes\nRuin; and they have another name for me which they think the most\ndreadful of all.\"\n\n\"What is that?\" asked Diamond, smiling up in her face.\n\n\"I won't tell you that name. Do you remember having to go through me to\nget into the country at my back?\"\n\n\"Oh yes, I do. How cold you were, North Wind! and so white, all but your\nlovely eyes! My heart grew like a lump of ice, and then I forgot for a\nwhile.\"\n\n\"You were very near knowing what they call me then. Would you be afraid\nof me if you had to go through me again?\"\n\n\"No. Why should I? Indeed I should be glad enough, if it was only to get\nanother peep of the country at your back.\"\n\n\"You've never seen it yet.\"\n\n\"Haven't I, North Wind? Oh! I'm so sorry! I thought I had. What did I\nsee then?\"\n\n\"Only a picture of it. The real country at my real back is ever so much\nmore beautiful than that. You shall see it one day--perhaps before very\nlong.\"\n\n\"Do they sing songs there?\"\n\n\"Don't you remember the dream you had about the little boys that dug for\nthe stars?\"\n\n\"Yes, that I do. I thought you must have had something to do with that\ndream, it was so beautiful.\"\n\n\"Yes; I gave you that dream.\"\n\n\"Oh! thank you. Did you give Nanny her dream too--about the moon and the\nbees?\"\n\n\"Yes. I was the lady that sat at the window of the moon.\"\n\n\"Oh, thank you. I was almost sure you had something to do with that too.\nAnd did you tell Mr. Raymond the story about the Princess Daylight?\"\n\n\"I believe I had something to do with it. At all events he thought about\nit one night when he couldn't sleep. But I want to ask you whether you\nremember the song the boy-angels sang in that dream of yours.\"\n\n\"No. I couldn't keep it, do what I would, and I did try.\"\n\n\"That was my fault.\"\n\n\"How could that be, North Wind?\"\n\n\"Because I didn't know it properly myself, and so I couldn't teach it to\nyou. I could only make a rough guess at something like what it would be,\nand so I wasn't able to make you dream it hard enough to remember it.\nNor would I have done so if I could, for it was not correct. I made you\ndream pictures of it, though. But you will hear the very song itself\nwhen you do get to the back of----\"\n\n\"My own dear North Wind,\" said Diamond, finishing the sentence for her,\nand kissing the arm that held him leaning against her.\n\n\"And now we've settled all this--for the time, at least,\" said North\nWind.\n\n\"But I can't feel quite sure yet,\" said Diamond.\n\n\"You must wait a while for that. Meantime you may be hopeful, and\ncontent not to be quite sure. Come now, I will take you home again, for\nit won't do to tire you too much.\"\n\n\"Oh, no, no. I'm not the least tired,\" pleaded Diamond.\n\n\"It is better, though.\"\n\n\"Very well; if you wish it,\" yielded Diamond with a sigh.\n\n\"You are a dear good, boy\" said North Wind. \"I will come for you again\nto-morrow night and take you out for a longer time. We shall make a\nlittle journey together, in fact, we shall start earlier, and as the\nmoon will be later, we shall have a little moonlight all the way.\"\n\nShe rose, and swept over the meadow and the trees. In a few moments\nthe Mound appeared below them. She sank a little, and floated in at the\nwindow of Diamond's room. There she laid him on his bed, covered him\nover, and in a moment he was lapt in a dreamless sleep.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVII. ONCE MORE\n\n\nTHE next night Diamond was seated by his open window, with his head on\nhis hand, rather tired, but so eagerly waiting for the promised visit\nthat he was afraid he could not sleep. But he started suddenly, and\nfound that he had been already asleep. He rose, and looking out of the\nwindow saw something white against his beech-tree. It was North Wind.\nShe was holding by one hand to a top branch. Her hair and her garments\nwent floating away behind her over the tree, whose top was swaying about\nwhile the others were still.\n\n\"Are you ready, Diamond?\" she asked.\n\n\"Yes,\" answered Diamond, \"quite ready.\"\n\nIn a moment she was at the window, and her arms came in and took him.\nShe sailed away so swiftly that he could at first mark nothing but the\nspeed with which the clouds above and the dim earth below went rushing\npast. But soon he began to see that the sky was very lovely, with\nmottled clouds all about the moon, on which she threw faint colours like\nthose of mother-of-pearl, or an opal. The night was warm, and in the\nlady's arms he did not feel the wind which down below was making waves\nin the ripe corn, and ripples on the rivers and lakes. At length they\ndescended on the side of an open earthy hill, just where, from beneath a\nstone, a spring came bubbling out.\n\n\"I am going to take you along this little brook,\" said North Wind. \"I am\nnot wanted for anything else to-night, so I can give you a treat.\"\n\nShe stooped over the stream and holding Diamond down close to the\nsurface of it, glided along level with its flow as it ran down the hill.\nAnd the song of the brook came up into Diamond's ears, and grew and\ngrew and changed with every turn. It seemed to Diamond to be singing the\nstory of its life to him. And so it was. It began with a musical tinkle\nwhich changed to a babble and then to a gentle rushing. Sometimes its\nsong would almost cease, and then break out again, tinkle, babble, and\nrush, all at once. At the bottom of the hill they came to a small river,\ninto which the brook flowed with a muffled but merry sound. Along the\nsurface of the river, darkly clear below them in the moonlight, they\nfloated; now, where it widened out into a little lake, they would hover\nfor a moment over a bed of water-lilies, and watch them swing about,\nfolded in sleep, as the water on which they leaned swayed in the\npresence of North Wind; and now they would watch the fishes asleep among\ntheir roots below. Sometimes she would hold Diamond over a deep hollow\ncurving into the bank, that he might look far into the cool stillness.\nSometimes she would leave the river and sweep across a clover-field. The\nbees were all at home, and the clover was asleep. Then she would return\nand follow the river. It grew wider and wider as it went. Now the armies\nof wheat and of oats would hang over its rush from the opposite banks;\nnow the willows would dip low branches in its still waters; and now it\nwould lead them through stately trees and grassy banks into a lovely\ngarden, where the roses and lilies were asleep, the tender flowers\nquite folded up, and only a few wide-awake and sending out their life in\nsweet, strong odours. Wider and wider grew the stream, until they came\nupon boats lying along its banks, which rocked a little in the flutter\nof North Wind's garments. Then came houses on the banks, each standing\nin a lovely lawn, with grand trees; and in parts the river was so high\nthat some of the grass and the roots of some of the trees were under\nwater, and Diamond, as they glided through between the stems, could see\nthe grass at the bottom of the water. Then they would leave the river\nand float about and over the houses, one after another--beautiful rich\nhouses, which, like fine trees, had taken centuries to grow. There was\nscarcely a light to be seen, and not a movement to be heard: all the\npeople in them lay fast asleep.\n\n\"What a lot of dreams they must be dreaming!\" said Diamond.\n\n\"Yes,\" returned North Wind. \"They can't surely be all lies--can they?\"\n\n\"I should think it depends a little on who dreams them,\" suggested\nDiamond.\n\n\"Yes,\" said North Wind. \"The people who think lies, and do lies, are\nvery likely to dream lies. But the people who love what is true will\nsurely now and then dream true things. But then something depends on\nwhether the dreams are home-grown, or whether the seed of them is blown\nover somebody else's garden-wall. Ah! there's some one awake in this\nhouse!\"\n\nThey were floating past a window in which a light was burning. Diamond\nheard a moan, and looked up anxiously in North Wind's face.\n\n\"It's a lady,\" said North Wind. \"She can't sleep for pain.\"\n\n\"Couldn't you do something for her?\" said Diamond.\n\n\"No, I can't. But you could.\"\n\n\"What could I do?\"\n\n\"Sing a little song to her.\"\n\n\"She wouldn't hear me.\"\n\n\"I will take you in, and then she will hear you.\"\n\n\"But that would be rude, wouldn't it? You can go where you please, of\ncourse, but I should have no business in her room.\"\n\n\"You may trust me, Diamond. I shall take as good care of the lady as of\nyou. The window is open. Come.\"\n\nBy a shaded lamp, a lady was seated in a white wrapper, trying to read,\nbut moaning every minute. North Wind floated behind her chair,\nset Diamond down, and told him to sing something. He was a little\nfrightened, but he thought a while, and then sang:--\n\n           The sun is gone down,\n           And the moon's in the sky;\n           But the sun will come up,\n           And the moon be laid by.\n\n           The flower is asleep\n           But it is not dead;\n           When the morning shines,\n           It will lift its head.\n\n           When winter comes,\n           It will die--no, no;\n           It will only hide\n           From the frost and the snow.\n\n           Sure is the summer,\n           Sure is the sun;\n           The night and the winter\n           Are shadows that run.\n\nThe lady never lifted her eyes from her book, or her head from her hand.\n\nAs soon as Diamond had finished, North Wind lifted him and carried him\naway.\n\n\"Didn't the lady hear me?\" asked Diamond when they were once more\nfloating down the river.\n\n\"Oh, yes, she heard you,\" answered North Wind.\n\n\"Was she frightened then?\"\n\n\"Oh, no.\"\n\n\"Why didn't she look to see who it was?\"\n\n\"She didn't know you were there.\"\n\n\"How could she hear me then?\"\n\n\"She didn't hear you with her ears.\"\n\n\"What did she hear me with?\"\n\n\"With her heart.\"\n\n\"Where did she think the words came from?\"\n\n\"She thought they came out of the book she was reading. She will search\nall through it to-morrow to find them, and won't be able to understand\nit at all.\"\n\n\"Oh, what fun!\" said Diamond. \"What will she do?\"\n\n\"I can tell you what she won't do: she'll never forget the meaning of\nthem; and she'll never be able to remember the words of them.\"\n\n\"If she sees them in Mr. Raymond's book, it will puzzle her, won't it?\"\n\n\"Yes, that it will. She will never be able to understand it.\"\n\n\"Until she gets to the back of the north wind,\" suggested Diamond.\n\n\"Until she gets to the back of the north wind,\" assented the lady.\n\n\"Oh!\" cried Diamond, \"I know now where we are. Oh! do let me go into the\nold garden, and into mother's room, and Diamond's stall. I wonder if the\nhole is at the back of my bed still. I should like to stay there all the\nrest of the night. It won't take you long to get home from here, will\nit, North Wind?\"\n\n\"No,\" she answered; \"you shall stay as long as you like.\"\n\n\"Oh, how jolly,\" cried Diamond, as North Wind sailed over the house with\nhim, and set him down on the lawn at the back.\n\nDiamond ran about the lawn for a little while in the moonlight. He found\npart of it cut up into flower-beds, and the little summer-house with the\ncoloured glass and the great elm-tree gone. He did not like this, and\nran into the stable. There were no horses there at all. He ran upstairs.\nThe rooms were empty. The only thing left that he cared about was the\nhole in the wall where his little bed had stood; and that was not enough\nto make him wish to stop. He ran down the stair again, and out upon the\nlawn. There he threw himself down and began to cry. It was all so dreary\nand lost!\n\n\"I thought I liked the place so much,\" said Diamond to himself, \"but I\nfind I don't care about it. I suppose it's only the people in it that\nmake you like a place, and when they're gone, it's dead, and you don't\ncare a bit about it. North Wind told me I might stop as long as I liked,\nand I've stopped longer already. North Wind!\" he cried aloud, turning\nhis face towards the sky.\n\nThe moon was under a cloud, and all was looking dull and dismal. A\nstar shot from the sky, and fell in the grass beside him. The moment it\nlighted, there stood North Wind.\n\n\"Oh!\" cried Diamond, joyfully, \"were you the shooting star?\"\n\n\"Yes, my child.\"\n\n\"Did you hear me call you then?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"So high up as that?\"\n\n\"Yes; I heard you quite well.\"\n\n\"Do take me home.\"\n\n\"Have you had enough of your old home already?\"\n\n\"Yes, more than enough. It isn't a home at all now.\"\n\n\"I thought that would be it,\" said North Wind. \"Everything, dreaming and\nall, has got a soul in it, or else it's worth nothing, and we don't care\na bit about it. Some of our thoughts are worth nothing, because they've\ngot no soul in them. The brain puts them into the mind, not the mind\ninto the brain.\"\n\n\"But how can you know about that, North Wind? You haven't got a body.\"\n\n\"If I hadn't you wouldn't know anything about me. No creature can know\nanother without the help of a body. But I don't care to talk about that.\nIt is time for you to go home.\"\n\nSo saying, North Wind lifted Diamond and bore him away.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVIII. AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND\n\n\nI DID not see Diamond for a week or so after this, and then he told me\nwhat I have now told you. I should have been astonished at his being\nable even to report such conversations as he said he had had with\nNorth Wind, had I not known already that some children are profound in\nmetaphysics. But a fear crosses me, lest, by telling so much about\nmy friend, I should lead people to mistake him for one of those\nconsequential, priggish little monsters, who are always trying to say\nclever things, and looking to see whether people appreciate them. When a\nchild like that dies, instead of having a silly book written about him,\nhe should be stuffed like one of those awful big-headed fishes you\nsee in museums. But Diamond never troubled his head about what people\nthought of him. He never set up for knowing better than others. The\nwisest things he said came out when he wanted one to help him with some\ndifficulty he was in. He was not even offended with Nanny and Jim for\ncalling him a silly. He supposed there was something in it, though he\ncould not quite understand what. I suspect however that the other name\nthey gave him, God's Baby, had some share in reconciling him to it.\n\nHappily for me, I was as much interested in metaphysics as Diamond\nhimself, and therefore, while he recounted his conversations with North\nWind, I did not find myself at all in a strange sea, although certainly\nI could not always feel the bottom, being indeed convinced that the\nbottom was miles away.\n\n\"Could it be all dreaming, do you think, sir?\" he asked anxiously.\n\n\"I daren't say, Diamond,\" I answered. \"But at least there is one thing\nyou may be sure of, that there is a still better love than that of the\nwonderful being you call North Wind. Even if she be a dream, the dream\nof such a beautiful creature could not come to you by chance.\"\n\n\"Yes, I know,\" returned Diamond; \"I know.\"\n\nThen he was silent, but, I confess, appeared more thoughtful than\nsatisfied.\n\nThe next time I saw him, he looked paler than usual.\n\n\"Have you seen your friend again?\" I asked him.\n\n\"Yes,\" he answered, solemnly.\n\n\"Did she take you out with her?\"\n\n\"No. She did not speak to me. I woke all at once, as I generally do when\nI am going to see her, and there she was against the door into the big\nroom, sitting just as I saw her sit on her own doorstep, as white as\nsnow, and her eyes as blue as the heart of an iceberg. She looked at me,\nbut never moved or spoke.\"\n\n\"Weren't you afraid?\" I asked.\n\n\"No. Why should I have been?\" he answered. \"I only felt a little cold.\"\n\n\"Did she stay long?\"\n\n\"I don't know. I fell asleep again. I think I have been rather cold ever\nsince though,\" he added with a smile.\n\nI did not quite like this, but I said nothing.\n\nFour days after, I called again at the Mound. The maid who opened\nthe door looked grave, but I suspected nothing. When I reached the\ndrawing-room, I saw Mrs. Raymond had been crying.\n\n\"Haven't you heard?\" she said, seeing my questioning looks.\n\n\"I've heard nothing,\" I answered.\n\n\"This morning we found our dear little Diamond lying on the floor of the\nbig attic-room, just outside his own door--fast asleep, as we thought.\nBut when we took him up, we did not think he was asleep. We saw\nthat----\"\n\nHere the kind-hearted lady broke out crying afresh.\n\n\"May I go and see him?\" I asked.\n\n\"Yes,\" she sobbed. \"You know your way to the top of the tower.\"\n\nI walked up the winding stair, and entered his room. A lovely figure, as\nwhite and almost as clear as alabaster, was lying on the bed. I saw at\nonce how it was. They thought he was dead. I knew that he had gone to\nthe back of the north wind."