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+Project Gutenberg's At the Back of the North Wind, by George MacDonald
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: At the Back of the North Wind
+
+Author: George MacDonald
+
+Release Date: July 8, 2008 [EBook #225]
+Last Updated: March 9, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Martin Ward
+
+
+
+
+
+AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND
+
+
+By George Mac Donald
+
+Author of “Dealings with Fairies,” “Ranald Bannerman,” etc., etc.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I. THE HAY-LOFT
+
+
+I HAVE been asked to tell you about the back of the north wind. An old
+Greek writer mentions a people who lived there, and were so comfortable
+that they could not bear it any longer, and drowned themselves. My
+story is not the same as his. I do not think Herodotus had got the right
+account of the place. I am going to tell you how it fared with a boy who
+went there.
+
+He lived in a low room over a coach-house; and that was not by any means
+at the back of the north wind, as his mother very well knew. For one
+side of the room was built only of boards, and the boards were so old
+that you might run a penknife through into the north wind. And then let
+them settle between them which was the sharper! I know that when you
+pulled it out again the wind would be after it like a cat after a mouse,
+and you would know soon enough you were not at the back of the north
+wind. Still, this room was not very cold, except when the north wind
+blew stronger than usual: the room I have to do with now was always
+cold, except in summer, when the sun took the matter into his own hands.
+Indeed, I am not sure whether I ought to call it a room at all; for it
+was just a loft where they kept hay and straw and oats for the horses.
+
+And when little Diamond--but stop: I must tell you that his father, who
+was a coachman, had named him after a favourite horse, and his mother
+had had no objection:--when little Diamond, then, lay there in bed, he
+could hear the horses under him munching away in the dark, or moving
+sleepily in their dreams. For Diamond's father had built him a bed in
+the loft with boards all round it, because they had so little room in
+their own end over the coach-house; and Diamond's father put old Diamond
+in the stall under the bed, because he was a quiet horse, and did not
+go to sleep standing, but lay down like a reasonable creature. But,
+although he was a surprisingly reasonable creature, yet, when young
+Diamond woke in the middle of the night, and felt the bed shaking in the
+blasts of the north wind, he could not help wondering whether, if the
+wind should blow the house down, and he were to fall through into
+the manger, old Diamond mightn't eat him up before he knew him in his
+night-gown. And although old Diamond was very quiet all night long, yet
+when he woke he got up like an earthquake, and then young Diamond knew
+what o'clock it was, or at least what was to be done next, which was--to
+go to sleep again as fast as he could.
+
+There was hay at his feet and hay at his head, piled up in great trusses
+to the very roof. Indeed it was sometimes only through a little lane
+with several turnings, which looked as if it had been sawn out for him,
+that he could reach his bed at all. For the stock of hay was, of course,
+always in a state either of slow ebb or of sudden flow. Sometimes the
+whole space of the loft, with the little panes in the roof for the
+stars to look in, would lie open before his open eyes as he lay in bed;
+sometimes a yellow wall of sweet-smelling fibres closed up his view at
+the distance of half a yard. Sometimes, when his mother had undressed
+him in her room, and told him to trot to bed by himself, he would
+creep into the heart of the hay, and lie there thinking how cold it was
+outside in the wind, and how warm it was inside there in his bed, and
+how he could go to it when he pleased, only he wouldn't just yet; he
+would get a little colder first. And ever as he grew colder, his bed
+would grow warmer, till at last he would scramble out of the hay, shoot
+like an arrow into his bed, cover himself up, and snuggle down, thinking
+what a happy boy he was. He had not the least idea that the wind got in
+at a chink in the wall, and blew about him all night. For the back of
+his bed was only of boards an inch thick, and on the other side of them
+was the north wind.
+
+Now, as I have already said, these boards were soft and crumbly. To be
+sure, they were tarred on the outside, yet in many places they were more
+like tinder than timber. Hence it happened that the soft part having
+worn away from about it, little Diamond found one night, after he lay
+down, that a knot had come out of one of them, and that the wind was
+blowing in upon him in a cold and rather imperious fashion. Now he had
+no fancy for leaving things wrong that might be set right; so he jumped
+out of bed again, got a little strike of hay, twisted it up, folded it
+in the middle, and, having thus made it into a cork, stuck it into the
+hole in the wall. But the wind began to blow loud and angrily, and, as
+Diamond was falling asleep, out blew his cork and hit him on the
+nose, just hard enough to wake him up quite, and let him hear the wind
+whistling shrill in the hole. He searched for his hay-cork, found it,
+stuck it in harder, and was just dropping off once more, when, pop! with
+an angry whistle behind it, the cork struck him again, this time on the
+cheek. Up he rose once more, made a fresh stopple of hay, and corked the
+hole severely. But he was hardly down again before--pop! it came on his
+forehead. He gave it up, drew the clothes above his head, and was soon
+fast asleep.
+
+Although the next day was very stormy, Diamond forgot all about the
+hole, for he was busy making a cave by the side of his mother's fire
+with a broken chair, a three-legged stool, and a blanket, and then
+sitting in it. His mother, however, discovered it, and pasted a bit of
+brown paper over it, so that, when Diamond had snuggled down the next
+night, he had no occasion to think of it.
+
+Presently, however, he lifted his head and listened. Who could that be
+talking to him? The wind was rising again, and getting very loud, and
+full of rushes and whistles. He was sure some one was talking--and very
+near him, too, it was. But he was not frightened, for he had not yet
+learned how to be; so he sat up and hearkened. At last the voice, which,
+though quite gentle, sounded a little angry, appeared to come from the
+back of the bed. He crept nearer to it, and laid his ear against the
+wall. Then he heard nothing but the wind, which sounded very loud
+indeed. The moment, however, that he moved his head from the wall, he
+heard the voice again, close to his ear. He felt about with his hand,
+and came upon the piece of paper his mother had pasted over the
+hole. Against this he laid his ear, and then he heard the voice quite
+distinctly. There was, in fact, a little corner of the paper loose, and
+through that, as from a mouth in the wall, the voice came.
+
+“What do you mean, little boy--closing up my window?”
+
+“What window?” asked Diamond.
+
+“You stuffed hay into it three times last night. I had to blow it out
+again three times.”
+
+“You can't mean this little hole! It isn't a window; it's a hole in my
+bed.”
+
+“I did not say it was a window: I said it was my window.”
+
+“But it can't be a window, because windows are holes to see out of.”
+
+“Well, that's just what I made this window for.”
+
+“But you are outside: you can't want a window.”
+
+“You are quite mistaken. Windows are to see out of, you say. Well, I'm
+in my house, and I want windows to see out of it.”
+
+“But you've made a window into my bed.”
+
+“Well, your mother has got three windows into my dancing room, and you
+have three into my garret.”
+
+“But I heard father say, when my mother wanted him to make a window
+through the wall, that it was against the law, for it would look into
+Mr. Dyves's garden.”
+
+The voice laughed.
+
+“The law would have some trouble to catch me!” it said.
+
+“But if it's not right, you know,” said Diamond, “that's no matter. You
+shouldn't do it.”
+
+“I am so tall I am above that law,” said the voice.
+
+“You must have a tall house, then,” said Diamond.
+
+“Yes; a tall house: the clouds are inside it.”
+
+“Dear me!” said Diamond, and thought a minute. “I think, then, you can
+hardly expect me to keep a window in my bed for you. Why don't you make
+a window into Mr. Dyves's bed?”
+
+“Nobody makes a window into an ash-pit,” said the voice, rather sadly.
+“I like to see nice things out of my windows.”
+
+“But he must have a nicer bed than I have, though mine is very nice--so
+nice that I couldn't wish a better.”
+
+“It's not the bed I care about: it's what is in it.--But you just open
+that window.”
+
+“Well, mother says I shouldn't be disobliging; but it's rather hard. You
+see the north wind will blow right in my face if I do.”
+
+“I am the North Wind.”
+
+“O-o-oh!” said Diamond, thoughtfully. “Then will you promise not to blow
+on my face if I open your window?”
+
+“I can't promise that.”
+
+“But you'll give me the toothache. Mother's got it already.”
+
+“But what's to become of me without a window?”
+
+“I'm sure I don't know. All I say is, it will be worse for me than for
+you.”
+
+“No; it will not. You shall not be the worse for it--I promise you that.
+You will be much the better for it. Just you believe what I say, and do
+as I tell you.”
+
+“Well, I can pull the clothes over my head,” said Diamond, and feeling
+with his little sharp nails, he got hold of the open edge of the paper
+and tore it off at once.
+
+In came a long whistling spear of cold, and struck his little naked
+chest. He scrambled and tumbled in under the bedclothes, and covered
+himself up: there was no paper now between him and the voice, and he
+felt a little--not frightened exactly--I told you he had not learned
+that yet--but rather queer; for what a strange person this North Wind
+must be that lived in the great house--“called Out-of-Doors, I suppose,”
+ thought Diamond--and made windows into people's beds! But the voice
+began again; and he could hear it quite plainly, even with his head
+under the bed-clothes. It was a still more gentle voice now, although
+six times as large and loud as it had been, and he thought it sounded a
+little like his mother's.
+
+“What is your name, little boy?” it asked.
+
+“Diamond,” answered Diamond, under the bed-clothes.
+
+“What a funny name!”
+
+“It's a very nice name,” returned its owner.
+
+“I don't know that,” said the voice.
+
+“Well, I do,” retorted Diamond, a little rudely.
+
+“Do you know to whom you are speaking!”
+
+“No,” said Diamond.
+
+And indeed he did not. For to know a person's name is not always to know
+the person's self.
+
+“Then I must not be angry with you.--You had better look and see,
+though.”
+
+“Diamond is a very pretty name,” persisted the boy, vexed that it should
+not give satisfaction.
+
+“Diamond is a useless thing rather,” said the voice.
+
+“That's not true. Diamond is very nice--as big as two--and so quiet all
+night! And doesn't he make a jolly row in the morning, getting upon his
+four great legs! It's like thunder.”
+
+“You don't seem to know what a diamond is.”
+
+“Oh, don't I just! Diamond is a great and good horse; and he sleeps
+right under me. He is old Diamond, and I am young Diamond; or, if you
+like it better, for you're very particular, Mr. North Wind, he's big
+Diamond, and I'm little Diamond; and I don't know which of us my father
+likes best.”
+
+A beautiful laugh, large but very soft and musical, sounded somewhere
+beside him, but Diamond kept his head under the clothes.
+
+“I'm not Mr. North Wind,” said the voice.
+
+“You told me that you were the North Wind,” insisted Diamond.
+
+“I did not say Mister North Wind,” said the voice.
+
+“Well, then, I do; for mother tells me I ought to be polite.”
+
+“Then let me tell you I don't think it at all polite of you to say
+Mister to me.”
+
+“Well, I didn't know better. I'm very sorry.”
+
+“But you ought to know better.”
+
+“I don't know that.”
+
+“I do. You can't say it's polite to lie there talking--with your head
+under the bed-clothes, and never look up to see what kind of person you
+are talking to.--I want you to come out with me.”
+
+“I want to go to sleep,” said Diamond, very nearly crying, for he did
+not like to be scolded, even when he deserved it.
+
+“You shall sleep all the better to-morrow night.”
+
+“Besides,” said Diamond, “you are out in Mr. Dyves's garden, and I can't
+get there. I can only get into our own yard.”
+
+“Will you take your head out of the bed-clothes?” said the voice, just a
+little angrily.
+
+“No!” answered Diamond, half peevish, half frightened.
+
+The instant he said the word, a tremendous blast of wind crashed in a
+board of the wall, and swept the clothes off Diamond. He started up in
+terror. Leaning over him was the large, beautiful, pale face of a woman.
+Her dark eyes looked a little angry, for they had just begun to flash;
+but a quivering in her sweet upper lip made her look as if she were
+going to cry. What was the most strange was that away from her head
+streamed out her black hair in every direction, so that the darkness in
+the hay-loft looked as if it were made of her hair but as Diamond gazed
+at her in speechless amazement, mingled with confidence--for the boy was
+entranced with her mighty beauty--her hair began to gather itself out
+of the darkness, and fell down all about her again, till her face looked
+out of the midst of it like a moon out of a cloud. From her eyes came
+all the light by which Diamond saw her face and her hair; and that was
+all he did see of her yet. The wind was over and gone.
+
+“Will you go with me now, you little Diamond? I am sorry I was forced to
+be so rough with you,” said the lady.
+
+“I will; yes, I will,” answered Diamond, holding out both his arms.
+“But,” he added, dropping them, “how shall I get my clothes? They are in
+mother's room, and the door is locked.”
+
+“Oh, never mind your clothes. You will not be cold. I shall take care of
+that. Nobody is cold with the north wind.”
+
+“I thought everybody was,” said Diamond.
+
+“That is a great mistake. Most people make it, however. They are cold
+because they are not with the north wind, but without it.”
+
+If Diamond had been a little older, and had supposed himself a good deal
+wiser, he would have thought the lady was joking. But he was not older,
+and did not fancy himself wiser, and therefore understood her well
+enough. Again he stretched out his arms. The lady's face drew back a
+little.
+
+“Follow me, Diamond,” she said.
+
+“Yes,” said Diamond, only a little ruefully.
+
+“You're not afraid?” said the North Wind.
+
+“No, ma'am; but mother never would let me go without shoes: she never
+said anything about clothes, so I dare say she wouldn't mind that.”
+
+“I know your mother very well,” said the lady. “She is a good woman.
+I have visited her often. I was with her when you were born. I saw her
+laugh and cry both at once. I love your mother, Diamond.”
+
+“How was it you did not know my name, then, ma'am? Please am I to say
+ma'am to you, ma'am?”
+
+“One question at a time, dear boy. I knew your name quite well, but I
+wanted to hear what you would say for it. Don't you remember that day
+when the man was finding fault with your name--how I blew the window
+in?”
+
+“Yes, yes,” answered Diamond, eagerly. “Our window opens like a door,
+right over the coach-house door. And the wind--you, ma'am--came in, and
+blew the Bible out of the man's hands, and the leaves went all flutter,
+flutter on the floor, and my mother picked it up and gave it back to him
+open, and there----”
+
+“Was your name in the Bible--the sixth stone in the high priest's
+breastplate.”
+
+“Oh!--a stone, was it?” said Diamond. “I thought it had been a horse--I
+did.”
+
+“Never mind. A horse is better than a stone any day. Well, you see, I
+know all about you and your mother.”
+
+“Yes. I will go with you.”
+
+“Now for the next question: you're not to call me ma'am. You must call
+me just my own name--respectfully, you know--just North Wind.”
+
+“Well, please, North Wind, you are so beautiful, I am quite ready to go
+with you.”
+
+“You must not be ready to go with everything beautiful all at once,
+Diamond.”
+
+“But what's beautiful can't be bad. You're not bad, North Wind?”
+
+“No; I'm not bad. But sometimes beautiful things grow bad by doing
+bad, and it takes some time for their badness to spoil their beauty.
+So little boys may be mistaken if they go after things because they are
+beautiful.”
+
+“Well, I will go with you because you are beautiful and good, too.”
+
+“Ah, but there's another thing, Diamond:--What if I should look ugly
+without being bad--look ugly myself because I am making ugly things
+beautiful?--What then?”
+
+“I don't quite understand you, North Wind. You tell me what then.”
+
+“Well, I will tell you. If you see me with my face all black, don't be
+frightened. If you see me flapping wings like a bat's, as big as the
+whole sky, don't be frightened. If you hear me raging ten times worse
+than Mrs. Bill, the blacksmith's wife--even if you see me looking in at
+people's windows like Mrs. Eve Dropper, the gardener's wife--you must
+believe that I am doing my work. Nay, Diamond, if I change into a
+serpent or a tiger, you must not let go your hold of me, for my hand
+will never change in yours if you keep a good hold. If you keep a hold,
+you will know who I am all the time, even when you look at me and can't
+see me the least like the North Wind. I may look something very awful.
+Do you understand?”
+
+“Quite well,” said little Diamond.
+
+“Come along, then,” said North Wind, and disappeared behind the mountain
+of hay.
+
+Diamond crept out of bed and followed her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II. THE LAWN
+
+
+WHEN Diamond got round the corner of the hay, for a moment he hesitated.
+The stair by which he would naturally have gone down to the door was
+at the other side of the loft, and looked very black indeed; for it was
+full of North Wind's hair, as she descended before him. And just beside
+him was the ladder going straight down into the stable, up which his
+father always came to fetch the hay for Diamond's dinner. Through the
+opening in the floor the faint gleam of the-stable lantern was enticing,
+and Diamond thought he would run down that way.
+
+The stair went close past the loose-box in which Diamond the horse
+lived. When Diamond the boy was half-way down, he remembered that it
+was of no use to go this way, for the stable-door was locked. But at the
+same moment there was horse Diamond's great head poked out of his box
+on to the ladder, for he knew boy Diamond although he was in his
+night-gown, and wanted him to pull his ears for him. This Diamond did
+very gently for a minute or so, and patted and stroked his neck too, and
+kissed the big horse, and had begun to take the bits of straw and hay
+out of his mane, when all at once he recollected that the Lady North
+Wind was waiting for him in the yard.
+
+“Good night, Diamond,” he said, and darted up the ladder, across the
+loft, and down the stair to the door. But when he got out into the yard,
+there was no lady.
+
+Now it is always a dreadful thing to think there is somebody and find
+nobody. Children in particular have not made up their minds to it; they
+generally cry at nobody, especially when they wake up at night. But it
+was an especial disappointment to Diamond, for his little heart had been
+beating with joy: the face of the North Wind was so grand! To have
+a lady like that for a friend--with such long hair, too! Why, it was
+longer than twenty Diamonds' tails! She was gone. And there he stood,
+with his bare feet on the stones of the paved yard.
+
+It was a clear night overhead, and the stars were shining. Orion in
+particular was making the most of his bright belt and golden sword.
+But the moon was only a poor thin crescent. There was just one great,
+jagged, black and gray cloud in the sky, with a steep side to it like a
+precipice; and the moon was against this side, and looked as if she had
+tumbled off the top of the cloud-hill, and broken herself in rolling
+down the precipice. She did not seem comfortable, for she was looking
+down into the deep pit waiting for her. At least that was what Diamond
+thought as he stood for a moment staring at her. But he was quite wrong,
+for the moon was not afraid, and there was no pit she was going down
+into, for there were no sides to it, and a pit without sides to it is
+not a pit at all. Diamond, however, had not been out so late before in
+all his life, and things looked so strange about him!--just as if he had
+got into Fairyland, of which he knew quite as much as anybody; for his
+mother had no money to buy books to set him wrong on the subject. I have
+seen this world--only sometimes, just now and then, you know--look as
+strange as ever I saw Fairyland. But I confess that I have not yet seen
+Fairyland at its best. I am always going to see it so some time. But if
+you had been out in the face and not at the back of the North Wind, on a
+cold rather frosty night, and in your night-gown, you would have felt it
+all quite as strange as Diamond did. He cried a little, just a little,
+he was so disappointed to lose the lady: of course, you, little man,
+wouldn't have done that! But for my part, I don't mind people crying so
+much as I mind what they cry about, and how they cry--whether they cry
+quietly like ladies and gentlemen, or go shrieking like vulgar emperors,
+or ill-natured cooks; for all emperors are not gentlemen, and all cooks
+are not ladies--nor all queens and princesses for that matter, either.
+
+But it can't be denied that a little gentle crying does one good. It did
+Diamond good; for as soon as it was over he was a brave boy again.
+
+“She shan't say it was my fault, anyhow!” said Diamond. “I daresay she
+is hiding somewhere to see what I will do. I will look for her.”
+
+So he went round the end of the stable towards the kitchen-garden. But
+the moment he was clear of the shelter of the stable, sharp as a knife
+came the wind against his little chest and his bare legs. Still he
+would look in the kitchen-garden, and went on. But when he got round the
+weeping-ash that stood in the corner, the wind blew much stronger, and
+it grew stronger and stronger till he could hardly fight against it. And
+it was so cold! All the flashy spikes of the stars seemed to have got
+somehow into the wind. Then he thought of what the lady had said about
+people being cold because they were not with the North Wind. How it was
+that he should have guessed what she meant at that very moment I cannot
+tell, but I have observed that the most wonderful thing in the world is
+how people come to understand anything. He turned his back to the wind,
+and trotted again towards the yard; whereupon, strange to say, it blew
+so much more gently against his calves than it had blown against his
+shins that he began to feel almost warm by contrast.
+
+You must not think it was cowardly of Diamond to turn his back to
+the wind: he did so only because he thought Lady North Wind had said
+something like telling him to do so. If she had said to him that he must
+hold his face to it, Diamond would have held his face to it. But the
+most foolish thing is to fight for no good, and to please nobody.
+
+Well, it was just as if the wind was pushing Diamond along. If he turned
+round, it grew very sharp on his legs especially, and so he thought the
+wind might really be Lady North Wind, though he could not see her, and
+he had better let her blow him wherever she pleased. So she blew and
+blew, and he went and went, until he found himself standing at a door
+in a wall, which door led from the yard into a little belt of shrubbery,
+flanking Mr. Coleman's house. Mr. Coleman was his father's master,
+and the owner of Diamond. He opened the door, and went through the
+shrubbery, and out into the middle of the lawn, still hoping to find
+North Wind. The soft grass was very pleasant to his bare feet, and felt
+warm after the stones of the yard; but the lady was nowhere to be seen.
+Then he began to think that after all he must have done wrong, and she
+was offended with him for not following close after her, but staying to
+talk to the horse, which certainly was neither wise nor polite.
+
+There he stood in the middle of the lawn, the wind blowing his
+night-gown till it flapped like a loose sail. The stars were very shiny
+over his head; but they did not give light enough to show that the grass
+was green; and Diamond stood alone in the strange night, which looked
+half solid all about him. He began to wonder whether he was in a dream
+or not. It was important to determine this; “for,” thought Diamond, “if
+I am in a dream, I am safe in my bed, and I needn't cry. But if I'm not
+in a dream, I'm out here, and perhaps I had better cry, or, at least,
+I'm not sure whether I can help it.” He came to the conclusion, however,
+that, whether he was in a dream or not, there could be no harm in not
+crying for a little while longer: he could begin whenever he liked.
+
+The back of Mr. Coleman's house was to the lawn, and one of the
+drawing-room windows looked out upon it. The ladies had not gone to bed;
+for the light was still shining in that window. But they had no idea
+that a little boy was standing on the lawn in his night-gown, or they
+would have run out in a moment. And as long as he saw that light,
+Diamond could not feel quite lonely. He stood staring, not at the great
+warrior Orion in the sky, nor yet at the disconsolate, neglected moon
+going down in the west, but at the drawing-room window with the light
+shining through its green curtains. He had been in that room once or
+twice that he could remember at Christmas times; for the Colemans were
+kind people, though they did not care much about children.
+
+All at once the light went nearly out: he could only see a glimmer of
+the shape of the window. Then, indeed, he felt that he was left alone.
+It was so dreadful to be out in the night after everybody was gone
+to bed! That was more than he could bear. He burst out crying in good
+earnest, beginning with a wail like that of the wind when it is waking
+up.
+
+Perhaps you think this was very foolish; for could he not go home to his
+own bed again when he liked? Yes; but it looked dreadful to him to creep
+up that stair again and lie down in his bed again, and know that North
+Wind's window was open beside him, and she gone, and he might never see
+her again. He would be just as lonely there as here. Nay, it would be
+much worse if he had to think that the window was nothing but a hole in
+the wall.
+
+At the very moment when he burst out crying, the old nurse who had grown
+to be one of the family, for she had not gone away when Miss Coleman did
+not want any more nursing, came to the back door, which was of glass, to
+close the shutters. She thought she heard a cry, and, peering out with a
+hand on each side of her eyes like Diamond's blinkers, she saw something
+white on the lawn. Too old and too wise to be frightened, she opened the
+door, and went straight towards the white thing to see what it was. And
+when Diamond saw her coming he was not frightened either, though
+Mrs. Crump was a little cross sometimes; for there is a good kind
+of crossness that is only disagreeable, and there is a bad kind of
+crossness that is very nasty indeed. So she came up with her neck
+stretched out, and her head at the end of it, and her eyes foremost of
+all, like a snail's, peering into the night to see what it could be that
+went on glimmering white before her. When she did see, she made a
+great exclamation, and threw up her hands. Then without a word, for she
+thought Diamond was walking in his sleep, she caught hold of him, and
+led him towards the house. He made no objection, for he was just in
+the mood to be grateful for notice of any sort, and Mrs. Crump led him
+straight into the drawing-room.
+
+Now, from the neglect of the new housemaid, the fire in Miss Coleman's
+bedroom had gone out, and her mother had told her to brush her hair by
+the drawing-room fire--a disorderly proceeding which a mother's wish
+could justify. The young lady was very lovely, though not nearly so
+beautiful as North Wind; and her hair was extremely long, for it came
+down to her knees--though that was nothing at all to North Wind's hair.
+Yet when she looked round, with her hair all about her, as Diamond
+entered, he thought for one moment that it was North Wind, and, pulling
+his hand from Mrs. Crump's, he stretched out his arms and ran towards
+Miss Coleman. She was so pleased that she threw down her brush, and
+almost knelt on the floor to receive him in her arms. He saw the next
+moment that she was not Lady North Wind, but she looked so like her he
+could not help running into her arms and bursting into tears afresh.
+Mrs. Crump said the poor child had walked out in his sleep, and Diamond
+thought she ought to know, and did not contradict her for anything he
+knew, it might be so indeed. He let them talk on about him, and said
+nothing; and when, after their astonishment was over, and Miss Coleman
+had given him a sponge-cake, it was decreed that Mrs. Crump should take
+him to his mother, he was quite satisfied.
+
+His mother had to get out of bed to open the door when Mrs. Crump
+knocked. She was indeed surprised to see her, boy; and having taken
+him in her arms and carried him to his bed, returned and had a long
+confabulation with Mrs. Crump, for they were still talking when Diamond
+fell fast asleep, and could hear them no longer.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III. OLD DIAMOND
+
+
+DIAMOND woke very early in the morning, and thought what a curious dream
+he had had. But the memory grew brighter and brighter in his head, until
+it did not look altogether like a dream, and he began to doubt whether
+he had not really been abroad in the wind last night. He came to the
+conclusion that, if he had really been brought home to his mother by
+Mrs. Crump, she would say something to him about it, and that would
+settle the matter. Then he got up and dressed himself, but, finding that
+his father and mother were not yet stirring, he went down the ladder to
+the stable. There he found that even old Diamond was not awake yet, for
+he, as well as young Diamond, always got up the moment he woke, and
+now he was lying as flat as a horse could lie upon his nice trim bed of
+straw.
+
+“I'll give old Diamond a surprise,” thought the boy; and creeping up
+very softly, before the horse knew, he was astride of his back. Then
+it was young Diamond's turn to have more of a surprise than he had
+expected; for as with an earthquake, with a rumbling and a rocking
+hither and thither, a sprawling of legs and heaving as of many backs,
+young Diamond found himself hoisted up in the air, with both hands
+twisted in the horse's mane. The next instant old Diamond lashed out
+with both his hind legs, and giving one cry of terror young Diamond
+found himself lying on his neck, with his arms as far round it as they
+would go. But then the horse stood as still as a stone, except that he
+lifted his head gently up to let the boy slip down to his back. For
+when he heard young Diamond's cry he knew that there was nothing to
+kick about; for young Diamond was a good boy, and old Diamond was a good
+horse, and the one was all right on the back of the other.
+
+As soon as Diamond had got himself comfortable on the saddle place, the
+horse began pulling at the hay, and the boy began thinking. He had never
+mounted Diamond himself before, and he had never got off him without
+being lifted down. So he sat, while the horse ate, wondering how he was
+to reach the ground.
+
+But while he meditated, his mother woke, and her first thought was to
+see her boy. She had visited him twice during the night, and found him
+sleeping quietly. Now his bed was empty, and she was frightened.
+
+“Diamond! Diamond! Where are you, Diamond?” she called out.
+
+Diamond turned his head where he sat like a knight on his steed in
+enchanted stall, and cried aloud,--
+
+“Here, mother!”
+
+“Where, Diamond?” she returned.
+
+“Here, mother, on Diamond's back.”
+
+She came running to the ladder, and peeping down, saw him aloft on the
+great horse.
+
+“Come down, Diamond,” she said.
+
+“I can't,” answered Diamond.
+
+“How did you get up?” asked his mother.
+
+“Quite easily,” answered he; “but when I got up, Diamond would get up
+too, and so here I am.”
+
+His mother thought he had been walking in his sleep again, and hurried
+down the ladder. She did not much like going up to the horse, for she
+had not been used to horses; but she would have gone into a lion's den,
+not to say a horse's stall, to help her boy. So she went and lifted him
+off Diamond's back, and felt braver all her life after. She carried him
+in her arms up to her room; but, afraid of frightening him at his own
+sleep-walking, as she supposed it, said nothing about last night. Before
+the next day was over, Diamond had almost concluded the whole adventure
+a dream.
+
+For a week his mother watched him very carefully--going into the loft
+several times a night--as often, in fact, as she woke. Every time she
+found him fast asleep.
+
+All that week it was hard weather. The grass showed white in the morning
+with the hoar-frost which clung like tiny comfits to every blade. And
+as Diamond's shoes were not good, and his mother had not quite saved
+up enough money to get him the new pair she so much wanted for him,
+she would not let him run out. He played all his games over and over
+indoors, especially that of driving two chairs harnessed to the baby's
+cradle; and if they did not go very fast, they went as fast as could be
+expected of the best chairs in the world, although one of them had only
+three legs, and the other only half a back.
+
+At length his mother brought home his new shoes, and no sooner did she
+find they fitted him than she told him he might run out in the yard and
+amuse himself for an hour.
+
+The sun was going down when he flew from the door like a bird from its
+cage. All the world was new to him. A great fire of sunset burned on the
+top of the gate that led from the stables to the house; above the fire
+in the sky lay a large lake of green light, above that a golden cloud,
+and over that the blue of the wintry heavens. And Diamond thought that,
+next to his own home, he had never seen any place he would like so much
+to live in as that sky. For it is not fine things that make home a nice
+place, but your mother and your father.
+
+As he was looking at the lovely colours, the gates were thrown open,
+and there was old Diamond and his friend in the carriage, dancing with
+impatience to get at their stalls and their oats. And in they came.
+Diamond was not in the least afraid of his father driving over him, but,
+careful not to spoil the grand show he made with his fine horses and his
+multitudinous cape, with a red edge to every fold, he slipped out of the
+way and let him dash right on to the stables. To be quite safe he had
+to step into the recess of the door that led from the yard to the
+shrubbery.
+
+As he stood there he remembered how the wind had driven him to this same
+spot on the night of his dream. And once more he was almost sure that
+it was no dream. At all events, he would go in and see whether things
+looked at all now as they did then. He opened the door, and passed
+through the little belt of shrubbery. Not a flower was to be seen in the
+beds on the lawn. Even the brave old chrysanthemums and Christmas roses
+had passed away before the frost. What? Yes! There was one! He ran and
+knelt down to look at it.
+
+It was a primrose--a dwarfish thing, but perfect in shape--a
+baby-wonder. As he stooped his face to see it close, a little wind began
+to blow, and two or three long leaves that stood up behind the flower
+shook and waved and quivered, but the primrose lay still in the green
+hollow, looking up at the sky, and not seeming to know that the wind was
+blowing at all. It was just a one eye that the dull black wintry earth
+had opened to look at the sky with. All at once Diamond thought it was
+saying its prayers, and he ought not to be staring at it so. He ran to
+the stable to see his father make Diamond's bed. Then his father took
+him in his arms, carried him up the ladder, and set him down at the
+table where they were going to have their tea.
+
+“Miss is very poorly,” said Diamond's father. “Mis'ess has been to
+the doctor with her to-day, and she looked very glum when she came out
+again. I was a-watching of them to see what doctor had said.”
+
+“And didn't Miss look glum too?” asked his mother.
+
+“Not half as glum as Mis'ess,” returned the coachman. “You see--”
+
+But he lowered his voice, and Diamond could not make out more than a
+word here and there. For Diamond's father was not only one of the finest
+of coachmen to look at, and one of the best of drivers, but one of
+the most discreet of servants as well. Therefore he did not talk about
+family affairs to any one but his wife, whom he had proved better than
+himself long ago, and was careful that even Diamond should hear nothing
+he could repeat again concerning master and his family.
+
+It was bed-time soon, and Diamond went to bed and fell fast asleep.
+
+He awoke all at once, in the dark.
+
+“Open the window, Diamond,” said a voice.
+
+Now Diamond's mother had once more pasted up North Wind's window.
+
+“Are you North Wind?” said Diamond: “I don't hear you blowing.”
+
+“No; but you hear me talking. Open the window, for I haven't overmuch
+time.”
+
+“Yes,” returned Diamond. “But, please, North Wind, where's the use? You
+left me all alone last time.”
+
+He had got up on his knees, and was busy with his nails once more at the
+paper over the hole in the wall. For now that North Wind spoke again,
+he remembered all that had taken place before as distinctly as if it had
+happened only last night.
+
+“Yes, but that was your fault,” returned North Wind. “I had work to do;
+and, besides, a gentleman should never keep a lady waiting.”
+
+“But I'm not a gentleman,” said Diamond, scratching away at the paper.
+
+“I hope you won't say so ten years after this.”
+
+“I'm going to be a coachman, and a coachman is not a gentleman,”
+ persisted Diamond.
+
+“We call your father a gentleman in our house,” said North Wind.
+
+“He doesn't call himself one,” said Diamond.
+
+“That's of no consequence: every man ought to be a gentleman, and your
+father is one.”
+
+Diamond was so pleased to hear this that he scratched at the paper like
+ten mice, and getting hold of the edge of it, tore it off. The next
+instant a young girl glided across the bed, and stood upon the floor.
+
+“Oh dear!” said Diamond, quite dismayed; “I didn't know--who are you,
+please?”
+
+“I'm North Wind.”
+
+“Are you really?”
+
+“Yes. Make haste.”
+
+“But you're no bigger than me.”
+
+“Do you think I care about how big or how little I am? Didn't you see me
+this evening? I was less then.”
+
+“No. Where was you?”
+
+“Behind the leaves of the primrose. Didn't you see them blowing?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Make haste, then, if you want to go with me.”
+
+“But you are not big enough to take care of me. I think you are only
+Miss North Wind.”
+
+“I am big enough to show you the way, anyhow. But if you won't come,
+why, you must stay.”
+
+“I must dress myself. I didn't mind with a grown lady, but I couldn't go
+with a little girl in my night-gown.”
+
+“Very well. I'm not in such a hurry as I was the other night. Dress
+as fast as you can, and I'll go and shake the primrose leaves till you
+come.”
+
+“Don't hurt it,” said Diamond.
+
+North Wind broke out in a little laugh like the breaking of silver
+bubbles, and was gone in a moment. Diamond saw--for it was a starlit
+night, and the mass of hay was at a low ebb now--the gleam of something
+vanishing down the stair, and, springing out of bed, dressed himself as
+fast as ever he could. Then he crept out into the yard, through the
+door in the wall, and away to the primrose. Behind it stood North
+Wind, leaning over it, and looking at the flower as if she had been its
+mother.
+
+“Come along,” she said, jumping up and holding out her hand.
+
+Diamond took her hand. It was cold, but so pleasant and full of life, it
+was better than warm. She led him across the garden. With one bound she
+was on the top of the wall. Diamond was left at the foot.
+
+“Stop, stop!” he cried. “Please, I can't jump like that.”
+
+“You don't try” said North Wind, who from the top looked down a foot
+taller than before.
+
+“Give me your hand again, and I will, try” said Diamond.
+
+She reached down, Diamond laid hold of her hand, gave a great spring,
+and stood beside her.
+
+“This is nice!” he said.
+
+Another bound, and they stood in the road by the river. It was full
+tide, and the stars were shining clear in its depths, for it lay still,
+waiting for the turn to run down again to the sea. They walked along its
+side. But they had not walked far before its surface was covered with
+ripples, and the stars had vanished from its bosom.
+
+And North Wind was now tall as a full-grown girl. Her hair was flying
+about her head, and the wind was blowing a breeze down the river. But
+she turned aside and went up a narrow lane, and as she went her hair
+fell down around her.
+
+“I have some rather disagreeable work to do to-night,” she said, “before
+I get out to sea, and I must set about it at once. The disagreeable work
+must be looked after first.”
+
+So saying, she laid hold of Diamond and began to run, gliding along
+faster and faster. Diamond kept up with her as well as he could. She
+made many turnings and windings, apparently because it was not quite
+easy to get him over walls and houses. Once they ran through a hall
+where they found back and front doors open. At the foot of the stair
+North Wind stood still, and Diamond, hearing a great growl, started in
+terror, and there, instead of North Wind, was a huge wolf by his side.
+He let go his hold in dismay, and the wolf bounded up the stair. The
+windows of the house rattled and shook as if guns were firing, and the
+sound of a great fall came from above. Diamond stood with white face
+staring up at the landing.
+
+“Surely,” he thought, “North Wind can't be eating one of the children!”
+ Coming to himself all at once, he rushed after her with his little fist
+clenched. There were ladies in long trains going up and down the stairs,
+and gentlemen in white neckties attending on them, who stared at him,
+but none of them were of the people of the house, and they said nothing.
+Before he reached the head of the stair, however, North Wind met him,
+took him by the hand, and hurried down and out of the house.
+
+“I hope you haven't eaten a baby, North Wind!” said Diamond, very
+solemnly.
+
+North Wind laughed merrily, and went tripping on faster. Her grassy robe
+swept and swirled about her steps, and wherever it passed over withered
+leaves, they went fleeing and whirling in spirals, and running on their
+edges like wheels, all about her feet.
+
+“No,” she said at last, “I did not eat a baby. You would not have had
+to ask that foolish question if you had not let go your hold of me. You
+would have seen how I served a nurse that was calling a child bad names,
+and telling her she was wicked. She had been drinking. I saw an ugly gin
+bottle in a cupboard.”
+
+“And you frightened her?” said Diamond.
+
+“I believe so!” answered North Wind laughing merrily. “I flew at her
+throat, and she tumbled over on the floor with such a crash that they
+ran in. She'll be turned away to-morrow--and quite time, if they knew as
+much as I do.”
+
+“But didn't you frighten the little one?”
+
+“She never saw me. The woman would not have seen me either if she had
+not been wicked.”
+
+“Oh!” said Diamond, dubiously.
+
+“Why should you see things,” returned North Wind, “that you wouldn't
+understand or know what to do with? Good people see good things; bad
+people, bad things.”
+
+“Then are you a bad thing?”
+
+“No. For you see me, Diamond, dear,” said the girl, and she looked down
+at him, and Diamond saw the loving eyes of the great lady beaming from
+the depths of her falling hair.
+
+“I had to make myself look like a bad thing before she could see me. If
+I had put on any other shape than a wolf's she would not have seen me,
+for that is what is growing to be her own shape inside of her.”
+
+“I don't know what you mean,” said Diamond, “but I suppose it's all
+right.”
+
+They were now climbing the slope of a grassy ascent. It was Primrose
+Hill, in fact, although Diamond had never heard of it. The moment they
+reached the top, North Wind stood and turned her face towards London The
+stars were still shining clear and cold overhead. There was not a cloud
+to be seen. The air was sharp, but Diamond did not find it cold.
+
+“Now,” said the lady, “whatever you do, do not let my hand go. I might
+have lost you the last time, only I was not in a hurry then: now I am in
+a hurry.”
+
+Yet she stood still for a moment.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV. NORTH WIND
+
+
+AND as she stood looking towards London, Diamond saw that she was
+trembling.
+
+“Are you cold, North Wind?” he asked.
+
+“No, Diamond,” she answered, looking down upon him with a smile; “I am
+only getting ready to sweep one of my rooms. Those careless, greedy,
+untidy children make it in such a mess.”
+
+As she spoke he could have told by her voice, if he had not seen with
+his eyes, that she was growing larger and larger. Her head went up and
+up towards the stars; and as she grew, still trembling through all her
+body, her hair also grew--longer and longer, and lifted itself from her
+head, and went out in black waves. The next moment, however, it fell
+back around her, and she grew less and less till she was only a tall
+woman. Then she put her hands behind her head, and gathered some of her
+hair, and began weaving and knotting it together. When she had done, she
+bent down her beautiful face close to his, and said--
+
+“Diamond, I am afraid you would not keep hold of me, and if I were to
+drop you, I don't know what might happen; so I have been making a place
+for you in my hair. Come.”
+
+Diamond held out his arms, for with that grand face looking at him,
+he believed like a baby. She took him in her hands, threw him over her
+shoulder, and said, “Get in, Diamond.”
+
+And Diamond parted her hair with his hands, crept between, and feeling
+about soon found the woven nest. It was just like a pocket, or like
+the shawl in which gipsy women carry their children. North Wind put her
+hands to her back, felt all about the nest, and finding it safe, said--
+
+“Are you comfortable, Diamond?”
+
+“Yes, indeed,” answered Diamond.
+
+The next moment he was rising in the air. North Wind grew towering up to
+the place of the clouds. Her hair went streaming out from her, till it
+spread like a mist over the stars. She flung herself abroad in space.
+
+Diamond held on by two of the twisted ropes which, parted and
+interwoven, formed his shelter, for he could not help being a little
+afraid. As soon as he had come to himself, he peeped through the woven
+meshes, for he did not dare to look over the top of the nest. The earth
+was rushing past like a river or a sea below him. Trees and water and
+green grass hurried away beneath. A great roar of wild animals rose
+as they rushed over the Zoological Gardens, mixed with a chattering of
+monkeys and a screaming of birds; but it died away in a moment behind
+them. And now there was nothing but the roofs of houses, sweeping along
+like a great torrent of stones and rocks. Chimney-pots fell, and tiles
+flew from the roofs; but it looked to him as if they were left behind
+by the roofs and the chimneys as they scudded away. There was a great
+roaring, for the wind was dashing against London like a sea; but at
+North Wind's back Diamond, of course, felt nothing of it all. He was in
+a perfect calm. He could hear the sound of it, that was all.
+
+By and by he raised himself and looked over the edge of his nest. There
+were the houses rushing up and shooting away below him, like a fierce
+torrent of rocks instead of water. Then he looked up to the sky, but
+could see no stars; they were hidden by the blinding masses of the
+lady's hair which swept between. He began to wonder whether she would
+hear him if he spoke. He would try.
+
+“Please, North Wind,” he said, “what is that noise?”
+
+From high over his head came the voice of North Wind, answering him,
+gently--
+
+“The noise of my besom. I am the old woman that sweeps the cobwebs from
+the sky; only I'm busy with the floor now.”
+
+“What makes the houses look as if they were running away?”
+
+“I am sweeping so fast over them.”
+
+“But, please, North Wind, I knew London was very big, but I didn't know
+it was so big as this. It seems as if we should never get away from it.”
+
+“We are going round and round, else we should have left it long ago.”
+
+“Is this the way you sweep, North Wind?”
+
+“Yes; I go round and round with my great besom.”
+
+“Please, would you mind going a little slower, for I want to see the
+streets?”
+
+“You won't see much now.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Because I have nearly swept all the people home.”
+
+“Oh! I forgot,” said Diamond, and was quiet after that, for he did not
+want to be troublesome.
+
+But she dropped a little towards the roofs of the houses, and Diamond
+could see down into the streets. There were very few people about,
+though. The lamps flickered and flared again, but nobody seemed to want
+them.
+
+Suddenly Diamond espied a little girl coming along a street. She was
+dreadfully blown by the wind, and a broom she was trailing behind her
+was very troublesome. It seemed as if the wind had a spite at her--it
+kept worrying her like a wild beast, and tearing at her rags. She was so
+lonely there!
+
+“Oh! please, North Wind,” he cried, “won't you help that little girl?”
+
+“No, Diamond; I mustn't leave my work.”
+
+“But why shouldn't you be kind to her?”
+
+“I am kind to her. I am sweeping the wicked smells away.”
+
+“But you're kinder to me, dear North Wind. Why shouldn't you be as kind
+to her as you are to me?”
+
+“There are reasons, Diamond. Everybody can't be done to all the same.
+Everybody is not ready for the same thing.”
+
+“But I don't see why I should be kinder used than she.”
+
+“Do you think nothing's to be done but what you can see, Diamond, you
+silly! It's all right. Of course you can help her if you like. You've
+got nothing particular to do at this moment; I have.”
+
+“Oh! do let me help her, then. But you won't be able to wait, perhaps?”
+
+“No, I can't wait; you must do it yourself. And, mind, the wind will get
+a hold of you, too.”
+
+“Don't you want me to help her, North Wind?”
+
+“Not without having some idea what will happen. If you break down and
+cry, that won't be much of a help to her, and it will make a goose of
+little Diamond.”
+
+“I want to go,” said Diamond. “Only there's just one thing--how am I to
+get home?”
+
+“If you're anxious about that, perhaps you had better go with me. I am
+bound to take you home again, if you do.”
+
+“There!” cried Diamond, who was still looking after the little girl.
+“I'm sure the wind will blow her over, and perhaps kill her. Do let me
+go.”
+
+They had been sweeping more slowly along the line of the street. There
+was a lull in the roaring.
+
+“Well, though I cannot promise to take you home,” said North Wind, as
+she sank nearer and nearer to the tops of the houses, “I can promise
+you it will be all right in the end. You will get home somehow. Have you
+made up your mind what to do?”
+
+“Yes; to help the little girl,” said Diamond firmly.
+
+The same moment North Wind dropt into the street and stood, only a tall
+lady, but with her hair flying up over the housetops. She put her hands
+to her back, took Diamond, and set him down in the street. The same
+moment he was caught in the fierce coils of the blast, and all but blown
+away. North Wind stepped back a step, and at once towered in stature to
+the height of the houses. A chimney-pot clashed at Diamond's feet. He
+turned in terror, but it was to look for the little girl, and when he
+turned again the lady had vanished, and the wind was roaring along the
+street as if it had been the bed of an invisible torrent. The little
+girl was scudding before the blast, her hair flying too, and behind her
+she dragged her broom. Her little legs were going as fast as ever they
+could to keep her from falling. Diamond crept into the shelter of a
+doorway, thinking to stop her; but she passed him like a bird, crying
+gently and pitifully.
+
+“Stop! stop! little girl,” shouted Diamond, starting in pursuit.
+
+“I can't,” wailed the girl, “the wind won't leave go of me.”
+
+Diamond could run faster than she, and he had no broom. In a few moments
+he had caught her by the frock, but it tore in his hand, and away went
+the little girl. So he had to run again, and this time he ran so fast
+that he got before her, and turning round caught her in his arms, when
+down they went both together, which made the little girl laugh in the
+midst of her crying.
+
+“Where are you going?” asked Diamond, rubbing the elbow that had stuck
+farthest out. The arm it belonged to was twined round a lamp-post as he
+stood between the little girl and the wind.
+
+“Home,” she said, gasping for breath.
+
+“Then I will go with you,” said Diamond.
+
+And then they were silent for a while, for the wind blew worse than
+ever, and they had both to hold on to the lamp-post.
+
+“Where is your crossing?” asked the girl at length.
+
+“I don't sweep,” answered Diamond.
+
+“What do you do, then?” asked she. “You ain't big enough for most
+things.”
+
+“I don't know what I do do,” answered he, feeling rather ashamed.
+“Nothing, I suppose. My father's Mr. Coleman's coachman.”
+
+“Have you a father?” she said, staring at him as if a boy with a father
+was a natural curiosity.
+
+“Yes. Haven't you?” returned Diamond.
+
+“No; nor mother neither. Old Sal's all I've got.” And she began to cry
+again.
+
+“I wouldn't go to her if she wasn't good to me,” said Diamond.
+
+“But you must go somewheres.”
+
+“Move on,” said the voice of a policeman behind them.
+
+“I told you so,” said the girl. “You must go somewheres. They're always
+at it.”
+
+“But old Sal doesn't beat you, does she?”
+
+“I wish she would.”
+
+“What do you mean?” asked Diamond, quite bewildered.
+
+“She would if she was my mother. But she wouldn't lie abed a-cuddlin' of
+her ugly old bones, and laugh to hear me crying at the door.”
+
+“You don't mean she won't let you in to-night?”
+
+“It'll be a good chance if she does.”
+
+“Why are you out so late, then?” asked Diamond.
+
+“My crossing's a long way off at the West End, and I had been indulgin'
+in door-steps and mewses.”
+
+“We'd better have a try anyhow,” said Diamond. “Come along.”
+
+As he spoke Diamond thought he caught a glimpse of North Wind turning a
+corner in front of them; and when they turned the corner too, they found
+it quiet there, but he saw nothing of the lady.
+
+“Now you lead me,” he said, taking her hand, “and I'll take care of
+you.”
+
+The girl withdrew her hand, but only to dry her eyes with her frock, for
+the other had enough to do with her broom. She put it in his again, and
+led him, turning after turning, until they stopped at a cellar-door in a
+very dirty lane. There she knocked.
+
+“I shouldn't like to live here,” said Diamond.
+
+“Oh, yes, you would, if you had nowhere else to go to,” answered the
+girl. “I only wish we may get in.”
+
+“I don't want to go in,” said Diamond.
+
+“Where do you mean to go, then?”
+
+“Home to my home.”
+
+“Where's that?”
+
+“I don't exactly know.”
+
+“Then you're worse off than I am.”
+
+“Oh no, for North Wind--” began Diamond, and stopped, he hardly knew
+why.
+
+“What?” said the girl, as she held her ear to the door listening.
+
+But Diamond did not reply. Neither did old Sal.
+
+“I told you so,” said the girl. “She is wide awake hearkening. But we
+don't get in.”
+
+“What will you do, then?” asked Diamond.
+
+“Move on,” she answered.
+
+“Where?”
+
+“Oh, anywheres. Bless you, I'm used to it.”
+
+“Hadn't you better come home with me, then?”
+
+“That's a good joke, when you don't know where it is. Come on.”
+
+“But where?”
+
+“Oh, nowheres in particular. Come on.”
+
+Diamond obeyed. The wind had now fallen considerably. They wandered on
+and on, turning in this direction and that, without any reason for one
+way more than another, until they had got out of the thick of the houses
+into a waste kind of place. By this time they were both very tired.
+Diamond felt a good deal inclined to cry, and thought he had been very
+silly to get down from the back of North Wind; not that he would have
+minded it if he had done the girl any good; but he thought he had been
+of no use to her. He was mistaken there, for she was far happier for
+having Diamond with her than if she had been wandering about alone. She
+did not seem so tired as he was.
+
+“Do let us rest a bit,” said Diamond.
+
+“Let's see,” she answered. “There's something like a railway there.
+Perhaps there's an open arch.”
+
+They went towards it and found one, and, better still, there was an
+empty barrel lying under the arch.
+
+“Hallo! here we are!” said the girl. “A barrel's the jolliest bed
+going--on the tramp, I mean. We'll have forty winks, and then go on
+again.”
+
+She crept in, and Diamond crept in beside her. They put their arms round
+each other, and when he began to grow warm, Diamond's courage began to
+come back.
+
+“This is jolly!” he said. “I'm so glad!”
+
+“I don't think so much of it,” said the girl. “I'm used to it, I
+suppose. But I can't think how a kid like you comes to be out all alone
+this time o' night.”
+
+She called him a kid, but she was not really a month older than he was;
+only she had had to work for her bread, and that so soon makes people
+older.
+
+“But I shouldn't have been out so late if I hadn't got down to help
+you,” said Diamond. “North Wind is gone home long ago.”
+
+“I think you must ha' got out o' one o' them Hidget Asylms,” said the
+girl. “You said something about the north wind afore that I couldn't get
+the rights of.”
+
+So now, for the sake of his character, Diamond had to tell her the whole
+story.
+
+She did not believe a word of it. She said he wasn't such a flat as to
+believe all that bosh. But as she spoke there came a great blast of wind
+through the arch, and set the barrel rolling. So they made haste to get
+out of it, for they had no notion of being rolled over and over as if
+they had been packed tight and wouldn't hurt, like a barrel of herrings.
+
+“I thought we should have had a sleep,” said Diamond; “but I can't say
+I'm very sleepy after all. Come, let's go on again.”
+
+They wandered on and on, sometimes sitting on a door-step, but always
+turning into lanes or fields when they had a chance.
+
+They found themselves at last on a rising ground that sloped rather
+steeply on the other side. It was a waste kind of spot below, bounded by
+an irregular wall, with a few doors in it. Outside lay broken things in
+general, from garden rollers to flower-pots and wine-bottles. But the
+moment they reached the brow of the rising ground, a gust of wind
+seized them and blew them down hill as fast as they could run. Nor could
+Diamond stop before he went bang against one of the doors in the wall.
+To his dismay it burst open. When they came to themselves they peeped
+in. It was the back door of a garden.
+
+“Ah, ah!” cried Diamond, after staring for a few moments, “I thought
+so! North Wind takes nobody in! Here I am in master's garden! I tell you
+what, little girl, you just bore a hole in old Sal's wall, and put your
+mouth to it, and say, 'Please, North Wind, mayn't I go out with you?'
+and then you'll see what'll come.”
+
+“I daresay I shall. But I'm out in the wind too often already to want
+more of it.”
+
+“I said with the North Wind, not in it.”
+
+“It's all one.”
+
+“It's not all one.”
+
+“It is all one.”
+
+“But I know best.”
+
+“And I know better. I'll box your ears,” said the girl.
+
+Diamond got very angry. But he remembered that even if she did box his
+ears, he musn't box hers again, for she was a girl, and all that boys
+must do, if girls are rude, is to go away and leave them. So he went in
+at the door.
+
+“Good-bye, mister” said the girl.
+
+This brought Diamond to his senses.
+
+“I'm sorry I was cross,” he said. “Come in, and my mother will give you
+some breakfast.”
+
+“No, thank you. I must be off to my crossing. It's morning now.”
+
+“I'm very sorry for you,” said Diamond.
+
+“Well, it is a life to be tired of--what with old Sal, and so many holes
+in my shoes.”
+
+“I wonder you're so good. I should kill myself.”
+
+“Oh, no, you wouldn't! When I think of it, I always want to see what's
+coming next, and so I always wait till next is over. Well! I suppose
+there's somebody happy somewheres. But it ain't in them carriages. Oh
+my! how they do look sometimes--fit to bite your head off! Good-bye!”
+
+She ran up the hill and disappeared behind it. Then Diamond shut the
+door as he best could, and ran through the kitchen-garden to the stable.
+And wasn't he glad to get into his own blessed bed again!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V. THE SUMMER-HOUSE
+
+
+DIAMOND said nothing to his mother about his adventures. He had half a
+notion that North Wind was a friend of his mother, and that, if she did
+not know all about it, at least she did not mind his going anywhere with
+the lady of the wind. At the same time he doubted whether he might not
+appear to be telling stories if he told all, especially as he could
+hardly believe it himself when he thought about it in the middle of the
+day, although when the twilight was once half-way on to night he had no
+doubt about it, at least for the first few days after he had been with
+her. The girl that swept the crossing had certainly refused to believe
+him. Besides, he felt sure that North Wind would tell him if he ought to
+speak.
+
+It was some time before he saw the lady of the wind again. Indeed
+nothing remarkable took place in Diamond's history until the following
+week. This was what happened then. Diamond the horse wanted new shoes,
+and Diamond's father took him out of the stable, and was just getting on
+his back to ride him to the forge, when he saw his little boy standing
+by the pump, and looking at him wistfully. Then the coachman took his
+foot out of the stirrup, left his hold of the mane and bridle, came
+across to his boy, lifted him up, and setting him on the horse's back,
+told him to sit up like a man. He then led away both Diamonds together.
+
+The boy atop felt not a little tremulous as the great muscles that
+lifted the legs of the horse knotted and relaxed against his legs, and
+he cowered towards the withers, grasping with his hands the bit of mane
+worn short by the collar; but when his father looked back at him,
+saying once more, “Sit up, Diamond,” he let the mane go and sat up,
+notwithstanding that the horse, thinking, I suppose, that his master
+had said to him, “Come up, Diamond,” stepped out faster. For both the
+Diamonds were just grandly obedient. And Diamond soon found that, as he
+was obedient to his father, so the horse was obedient to him. For he had
+not ridden far before he found courage to reach forward and catch hold
+of the bridle, and when his father, whose hand was upon it, felt the boy
+pull it towards him, he looked up and smiled, and, well pleased, let go
+his hold, and left Diamond to guide Diamond; and the boy soon found that
+he could do so perfectly. It was a grand thing to be able to guide a
+great beast like that. And another discovery he made was that, in order
+to guide the horse, he had in a measure to obey the horse first. If he
+did not yield his body to the motions of the horse's body, he could not
+guide him; he must fall off.
+
+The blacksmith lived at some distance, deeper into London. As they
+crossed the angle of a square, Diamond, who was now quite comfortable
+on his living throne, was glancing this way and that in a gentle pride,
+when he saw a girl sweeping a crossing scuddingly before a lady. The
+lady was his father's mistress, Mrs. Coleman, and the little girl was
+she for whose sake he had got off North Wind's back. He drew Diamond's
+bridle in eager anxiety to see whether her outstretched hand would
+gather a penny from Mrs. Coleman. But she had given one at the last
+crossing, and the hand returned only to grasp its broom. Diamond could
+not bear it. He had a penny in his pocket, a gift of the same lady the
+day before, and he tumbled off his horse to give it to the girl. He
+tumbled off, I say, for he did tumble when he reached the ground. But he
+got up in an instant, and ran, searching his pocket as he ran. She
+made him a pretty courtesy when he offered his treasure, but with a
+bewildered stare. She thought first: “Then he was on the back of the
+North Wind after all!” but, looking up at the sound of the horse's feet
+on the paved crossing, she changed her idea, saying to herself, “North
+Wind is his father's horse! That's the secret of it! Why couldn't he say
+so?” And she had a mind to refuse the penny. But his smile put it all
+right, and she not only took his penny but put it in her mouth with a
+“Thank you, mister. Did they wollop you then?”
+
+“Oh no!” answered Diamond. “They never wollops me.”
+
+“Lor!” said the little girl, and was speechless.
+
+Meantime his father, looking up, and seeing the horse's back bare,
+suffered a pang of awful dread, but the next moment catching sight of
+him, took him up and put him on, saying--
+
+“Don't get off again, Diamond. The horse might have put his foot on
+you.”
+
+“No, father,” answered the boy, and rode on in majestic safety.
+
+The summer drew near, warm and splendid. Miss Coleman was a little
+better in health, and sat a good deal in the garden. One day she saw
+Diamond peeping through the shrubbery, and called him. He talked to her
+so frankly that she often sent for him after that, and by degrees it
+came about that he had leave to run in the garden as he pleased. He
+never touched any of the flowers or blossoms, for he was not like some
+boys who cannot enjoy a thing without pulling it to pieces, and so
+preventing every one from enjoying it after them.
+
+A week even makes such a long time in a child's life, that Diamond had
+begun once more to feel as if North Wind were a dream of some far-off
+year.
+
+One hot evening, he had been sitting with the young mistress, as they
+called her, in a little summer-house at the bottom of the lawn--a
+wonderful thing for beauty, the boy thought, for a little window in the
+side of it was made of coloured glass. It grew dusky, and the lady began
+to feel chill, and went in, leaving the boy in the summer-house. He sat
+there gazing out at a bed of tulips, which, although they had closed for
+the night, could not go quite asleep for the wind that kept waving
+them about. All at once he saw a great bumble-bee fly out of one of the
+tulips.
+
+“There! that is something done,” said a voice--a gentle, merry, childish
+voice, but so tiny. “At last it was. I thought he would have had to stay
+there all night, poor fellow! I did.”
+
+Diamond could not tell whether the voice was near or far away, it was so
+small and yet so clear. He had never seen a fairy, but he had heard of
+such, and he began to look all about for one. And there was the tiniest
+creature sliding down the stem of the tulip!
+
+“Are you the fairy that herds the bees?” he asked, going out of the
+summer-house, and down on his knees on the green shore of the tulip-bed.
+
+“I'm not a fairy,” answered the little creature.
+
+“How do you know that?”
+
+“It would become you better to ask how you are to know it.”
+
+“You've just told me.”
+
+“Yes. But what's the use of knowing a thing only because you're told
+it?”
+
+“Well, how am I to know you are not a fairy? You do look very like one.”
+
+“In the first place, fairies are much bigger than you see me.”
+
+“Oh!” said Diamond reflectively; “I thought they were very little.”
+
+“But they might be tremendously bigger than I am, and yet not very big.
+Why, I could be six times the size I am, and not be very huge. Besides,
+a fairy can't grow big and little at will, though the nursery-tales do
+say so: they don't know better. You stupid Diamond! have you never seen
+me before?”
+
+And, as she spoke, a moan of wind bent the tulips almost to the ground,
+and the creature laid her hand on Diamond's shoulder. In a moment he
+knew that it was North Wind.
+
+“I am very stupid,” he said; “but I never saw you so small before, not
+even when you were nursing the primrose.”
+
+“Must you see me every size that can be measured before you know me,
+Diamond?”
+
+“But how could I think it was you taking care of a great stupid
+bumble-bee?”
+
+“The more stupid he was the more need he had to be taken care of. What
+with sucking honey and trying to open the door, he was nearly dated; and
+when it opened in the morning to let the sun see the tulip's heart, what
+would the sun have thought to find such a stupid thing lying there--with
+wings too?”
+
+“But how do you have time to look after bees?”
+
+“I don't look after bees. I had this one to look after. It was hard
+work, though.”
+
+“Hard work! Why, you could blow a chimney down, or--or a boy's cap off,”
+ said Diamond.
+
+“Both are easier than to blow a tulip open. But I scarcely know the
+difference between hard and easy. I am always able for what I have to
+do. When I see my work, I just rush at it--and it is done. But I mustn't
+chatter. I have got to sink a ship to-night.”
+
+“Sink a ship! What! with men in it?”
+
+“Yes, and women too.”
+
+“How dreadful! I wish you wouldn't talk so.”
+
+“It is rather dreadful. But it is my work. I must do it.”
+
+“I hope you won't ask me to go with you.”
+
+“No, I won't ask you. But you must come for all that.”
+
+“I won't then.”
+
+“Won't you?” And North Wind grew a tall lady, and looked him in the
+eyes, and Diamond said--
+
+“Please take me. You cannot be cruel.”
+
+“No; I could not be cruel if I would. I can do nothing cruel, although I
+often do what looks like cruel to those who do not know what I really am
+doing. The people they say I drown, I only carry away to--to--to--well,
+the back of the North Wind--that is what they used to call it long ago,
+only I never saw the place.”
+
+“How can you carry them there if you never saw it?”
+
+“I know the way.”
+
+“But how is it you never saw it?”
+
+“Because it is behind me.”
+
+“But you can look round.”
+
+“Not far enough to see my own back. No; I always look before me. In
+fact, I grow quite blind and deaf when I try to see my back. I only mind
+my work.”
+
+“But how does it be your work?”
+
+“Ah, that I can't tell you. I only know it is, because when I do it I
+feel all right, and when I don't I feel all wrong. East Wind says--only
+one does not exactly know how much to believe of what she says, for she
+is very naughty sometimes--she says it is all managed by a baby; but
+whether she is good or naughty when she says that, I don't know. I just
+stick to my work. It is all one to me to let a bee out of a tulip, or to
+sweep the cobwebs from the sky. You would like to go with me to-night?”
+
+“I don't want to see a ship sunk.”
+
+“But suppose I had to take you?”
+
+“Why, then, of course I must go.”
+
+“There's a good Diamond.--I think I had better be growing a bit. Only
+you must go to bed first. I can't take you till you're in bed. That's
+the law about the children. So I had better go and do something else
+first.”
+
+“Very well, North Wind,” said Diamond. “What are you going to do first,
+if you please?”
+
+“I think I may tell you. Jump up on the top of the wall, there.”
+
+“I can't.”
+
+“Ah! and I can't help you--you haven't been to bed yet, you see. Come
+out to the road with me, just in front of the coach-house, and I will
+show you.”
+
+North Wind grew very small indeed, so small that she could not have
+blown the dust off a dusty miller, as the Scotch children call a yellow
+auricula. Diamond could not even see the blades of grass move as she
+flitted along by his foot. They left the lawn, went out by the wicket
+in the-coach-house gates, and then crossed the road to the low wall that
+separated it from the river.
+
+“You can get up on this wall, Diamond,” said North Wind.
+
+“Yes; but my mother has forbidden me.”
+
+“Then don't,” said North Wind.
+
+“But I can see over,” said Diamond.
+
+“Ah! to be sure. I can't.”
+
+So saying, North Wind gave a little bound, and stood on the top of the
+wall. She was just about the height a dragon-fly would be, if it stood
+on end.
+
+“You darling!” said Diamond, seeing what a lovely little toy-woman she
+was.
+
+“Don't be impertinent, Master Diamond,” said North Wind. “If there's one
+thing makes me more angry than another, it is the way you humans judge
+things by their size. I am quite as respectable now as I shall be six
+hours after this, when I take an East Indiaman by the royals, twist her
+round, and push her under. You have no right to address me in such a
+fashion.”
+
+But as she spoke, the tiny face wore the smile of a great, grand woman.
+She was only having her own beautiful fun out of Diamond, and true
+woman's fun never hurts.
+
+“But look there!” she resumed. “Do you see a boat with one man in it--a
+green and white boat?”
+
+“Yes; quite well.”
+
+“That's a poet.”
+
+“I thought you said it was a bo-at.”
+
+“Stupid pet! Don't you know what a poet is?”
+
+“Why, a thing to sail on the water in.”
+
+“Well, perhaps you're not so far wrong. Some poets do carry people over
+the sea. But I have no business to talk so much. The man is a poet.”
+
+“The boat is a boat,” said Diamond.
+
+“Can't you spell?” asked North Wind.
+
+“Not very well.”
+
+“So I see. A poet is not a bo-at, as you call it. A poet is a man who is
+glad of something, and tries to make other people glad of it too.”
+
+“Ah! now I know. Like the man in the sweety-shop.”
+
+“Not very. But I see it is no use. I wasn't sent to tell you, and so I
+can't tell you. I must be off. Only first just look at the man.”
+
+“He's not much of a rower” said Diamond--“paddling first with one fin
+and then with the other.”
+
+“Now look here!” said North Wind.
+
+And she flashed like a dragon-fly across the water, whose surface
+rippled and puckered as she passed. The next moment the man in the boat
+glanced about him, and bent to his oars. The boat flew over the rippling
+water. Man and boat and river were awake. The same instant almost, North
+Wind perched again upon the river wall.
+
+“How did you do that?” asked Diamond.
+
+“I blew in his face,” answered North Wind. “I don't see how that could
+do it,” said Diamond. “I daresay not. And therefore you will say you
+don't believe it could.”
+
+“No, no, dear North Wind. I know you too well not to believe you.”
+
+“Well, I blew in his face, and that woke him up.”
+
+“But what was the good of it?”
+
+“Why! don't you see? Look at him--how he is pulling. I blew the mist out
+of him.”
+
+“How was that?”
+
+“That is just what I cannot tell you.”
+
+“But you did it.”
+
+“Yes. I have to do ten thousand things without being able to tell how.”
+
+“I don't like that,” said Diamond.
+
+He was staring after the boat. Hearing no answer, he looked down to the
+wall.
+
+North Wind was gone. Away across the river went a long ripple--what
+sailors call a cat's paw. The man in the boat was putting up a sail. The
+moon was coming to herself on the edge of a great cloud, and the sail
+began to shine white. Diamond rubbed his eyes, and wondered what it was
+all about. Things seemed going on around him, and all to understand
+each other, but he could make nothing of it. So he put his hands in his
+pockets, and went in to have his tea. The night was very hot, for the
+wind had fallen again.
+
+“You don't seem very well to-night, Diamond,” said his mother.
+
+“I am quite well, mother,” returned Diamond, who was only puzzled.
+
+“I think you had better go to bed,” she added.
+
+“Very well, mother,” he answered.
+
+He stopped for one moment to look out of the window. Above the moon the
+clouds were going different ways. Somehow or other this troubled him,
+but, notwithstanding, he was soon fast asleep.
+
+He woke in the middle of the night and the darkness. A terrible noise
+was rumbling overhead, like the rolling beat of great drums echoing
+through a brazen vault. The roof of the loft in which he lay had no
+ceiling; only the tiles were between him and the sky. For a while he
+could not come quite awake, for the noise kept beating him down, so that
+his heart was troubled and fluttered painfully. A second peal of thunder
+burst over his head, and almost choked him with fear. Nor did he recover
+until the great blast that followed, having torn some tiles off the
+roof, sent a spout of wind down into his bed and over his face, which
+brought him wide awake, and gave him back his courage. The same moment
+he heard a mighty yet musical voice calling him.
+
+“Come up, Diamond,” it said. “It's all ready. I'm waiting for you.”
+
+He looked out of the bed, and saw a gigantic, powerful, but most lovely
+arm--with a hand whose fingers were nothing the less ladylike that they
+could have strangled a boa-constrictor, or choked a tigress off its
+prey--stretched down through a big hole in the roof. Without a moment's
+hesitation he reached out his tiny one, and laid it in the grand palm
+before him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI. OUT IN THE STORM
+
+
+THE hand felt its way up his arm, and, grasping it gently and strongly
+above the elbow, lifted Diamond from the bed. The moment he was through
+the hole in the roof, all the winds of heaven seemed to lay hold upon
+him, and buffet him hither and thither. His hair blew one way, his
+night-gown another, his legs threatened to float from under him, and
+his head to grow dizzy with the swiftness of the invisible assailant.
+Cowering, he clung with the other hand to the huge hand which held his
+arm, and fear invaded his heart.
+
+“Oh, North Wind!” he murmured, but the words vanished from his lips as
+he had seen the soap-bubbles that burst too soon vanish from the mouth
+of his pipe. The wind caught them, and they were nowhere. They couldn't
+get out at all, but were torn away and strangled. And yet North Wind
+heard them, and in her answer it seemed to Diamond that just because she
+was so big and could not help it, and just because her ear and her mouth
+must seem to him so dreadfully far away, she spoke to him more tenderly
+and graciously than ever before. Her voice was like the bass of a deep
+organ, without the groan in it; like the most delicate of violin tones
+without the wail in it; like the most glorious of trumpet-ejaculations
+without the defiance in it; like the sound of falling water without
+the clatter and clash in it: it was like all of them and neither
+of them--all of them without their faults, each of them without its
+peculiarity: after all, it was more like his mother's voice than
+anything else in the world.
+
+“Diamond, dear,” she said, “be a man. What is fearful to you is not the
+least fearful to me.”
+
+“But it can't hurt you,” murmured Diamond, “for you're it.”
+
+“Then if I'm it, and have you in my arms, how can it hurt you?”
+
+“Oh yes! I see,” whispered Diamond. “But it looks so dreadful, and it
+pushes me about so.”
+
+“Yes, it does, my dear. That is what it was sent for.”
+
+At the same moment, a peal of thunder which shook Diamond's heart
+against the sides of his bosom hurtled out of the heavens: I cannot
+say out of the sky, for there was no sky. Diamond had not seen the
+lightning, for he had been intent on finding the face of North Wind.
+Every moment the folds of her garment would sweep across his eyes and
+blind him, but between, he could just persuade himself that he saw great
+glories of woman's eyes looking down through rifts in the mountainous
+clouds over his head.
+
+He trembled so at the thunder, that his knees failed him, and he sunk
+down at North Wind's feet, and clasped her round the column of her
+ankle. She instantly stooped, lifted him from the roof--up--up into her
+bosom, and held him there, saying, as if to an inconsolable child--
+
+“Diamond, dear, this will never do.”
+
+“Oh yes, it will,” answered Diamond. “I am all right now--quite
+comfortable, I assure you, dear North Wind. If you will only let me stay
+here, I shall be all right indeed.”
+
+“But you will feel the wind here, Diamond.”
+
+“I don't mind that a bit, so long as I feel your arms through it,”
+ answered Diamond, nestling closer to her grand bosom.
+
+“Brave boy!” returned North Wind, pressing him closer.
+
+“No,” said Diamond, “I don't see that. It's not courage at all, so long
+as I feel you there.”
+
+“But hadn't you better get into my hair? Then you would not feel the
+wind; you will here.”
+
+“Ah, but, dear North Wind, you don't know how nice it is to feel your
+arms about me. It is a thousand times better to have them and the wind
+together, than to have only your hair and the back of your neck and no
+wind at all.”
+
+“But it is surely more comfortable there?”
+
+“Well, perhaps; but I begin to think there are better things than being
+comfortable.”
+
+“Yes, indeed there are. Well, I will keep you in front of me. You will
+feel the wind, but not too much. I shall only want one arm to take care
+of you; the other will be quite enough to sink the ship.”
+
+“Oh, dear North Wind! how can you talk so?”
+
+“My dear boy, I never talk; I always mean what I say.”
+
+“Then you do mean to sink the ship with the other hand?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“It's not like you.”
+
+“How do you know that?”
+
+“Quite easily. Here you are taking care of a poor little boy with one
+arm, and there you are sinking a ship with the other. It can't be like
+you.”
+
+“Ah! but which is me? I can't be two mes, you know.”
+
+“No. Nobody can be two mes.”
+
+“Well, which me is me?”
+
+“Now I must think. There looks to be two.”
+
+“Yes. That's the very point.--You can't be knowing the thing you don't
+know, can you?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Which me do you know?”
+
+“The kindest, goodest, best me in the world,” answered Diamond, clinging
+to North Wind.
+
+“Why am I good to you?”
+
+“I don't know.”
+
+“Have you ever done anything for me?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Then I must be good to you because I choose to be good to you.”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Why should I choose?”
+
+“Because--because--because you like.”
+
+“Why should I like to be good to you?”
+
+“I don't know, except it be because it's good to be good to me.”
+
+“That's just it; I am good to you because I like to be good.”
+
+“Then why shouldn't you be good to other people as well as to me?”
+
+“That's just what I don't know. Why shouldn't I?”
+
+“I don't know either. Then why shouldn't you?”
+
+“Because I am.”
+
+“There it is again,” said Diamond. “I don't see that you are. It looks
+quite the other thing.”
+
+“Well, but listen to me, Diamond. You know the one me, you say, and that
+is good.”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Do you know the other me as well?”
+
+“No. I can't. I shouldn't like to.”
+
+“There it is. You don't know the other me. You are sure of one of them?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“And you are sure there can't be two mes?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Then the me you don't know must be the same as the me you do
+know,--else there would be two mes?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Then the other me you don't know must be as kind as the me you do
+know?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Besides, I tell you that it is so, only it doesn't look like it. That I
+confess freely. Have you anything more to object?”
+
+“No, no, dear North Wind; I am quite satisfied.”
+
+“Then I will tell you something you might object. You might say that the
+me you know is like the other me, and that I am cruel all through.”
+
+“I know that can't be, because you are so kind.”
+
+“But that kindness might be only a pretence for the sake of being more
+cruel afterwards.”
+
+Diamond clung to her tighter than ever, crying--
+
+“No, no, dear North Wind; I can't believe that. I don't believe it. I
+won't believe it. That would kill me. I love you, and you must love me,
+else how did I come to love you? How could you know how to put on such a
+beautiful face if you did not love me and the rest? No. You may sink
+as many ships as you like, and I won't say another word. I can't say I
+shall like to see it, you know.”
+
+“That's quite another thing,” said North Wind; and as she spoke she gave
+one spring from the roof of the hay-loft, and rushed up into the clouds,
+with Diamond on her left arm close to her heart. And as if the clouds
+knew she had come, they burst into a fresh jubilation of thunderous
+light. For a few moments, Diamond seemed to be borne up through the
+depths of an ocean of dazzling flame; the next, the winds were writhing
+around him like a storm of serpents. For they were in the midst of
+the clouds and mists, and they of course took the shapes of the wind,
+eddying and wreathing and whirling and shooting and dashing about like
+grey and black water, so that it was as if the wind itself had taken
+shape, and he saw the grey and black wind tossing and raving most madly
+all about him. Now it blinded him by smiting him upon the eyes; now it
+deafened him by bellowing in his ears; for even when the thunder came he
+knew now that it was the billows of the great ocean of the air dashing
+against each other in their haste to fill the hollow scooped out by the
+lightning; now it took his breath quite away by sucking it from his body
+with the speed of its rush. But he did not mind it. He only gasped first
+and then laughed, for the arm of North Wind was about him, and he was
+leaning against her bosom. It is quite impossible for me to describe
+what he saw. Did you ever watch a great wave shoot into a winding
+passage amongst rocks? If you ever did, you would see that the water
+rushed every way at once, some of it even turning back and opposing
+the rest; greater confusion you might see nowhere except in a crowd of
+frightened people. Well, the wind was like that, except that it went
+much faster, and therefore was much wilder, and twisted and shot and
+curled and dodged and clashed and raved ten times more madly than
+anything else in creation except human passions. Diamond saw the threads
+of the lady's hair streaking it all. In parts indeed he could not tell
+which was hair and which was black storm and vapour. It seemed sometimes
+that all the great billows of mist-muddy wind were woven out of the
+crossing lines of North Wind's infinite hair, sweeping in endless
+intertwistings. And Diamond felt as the wind seized on his hair, which
+his mother kept rather long, as if he too was a part of the storm, and
+some of its life went out from him. But so sheltered was he by North
+Wind's arm and bosom that only at times, in the fiercer onslaught of
+some curl-billowed eddy, did he recognise for a moment how wild was the
+storm in which he was carried, nestling in its very core and formative
+centre.
+
+It seemed to Diamond likewise that they were motionless in this centre,
+and that all the confusion and fighting went on around them. Flash after
+flash illuminated the fierce chaos, revealing in varied yellow and blue
+and grey and dusky red the vapourous contention; peal after peal of
+thunder tore the infinite waste; but it seemed to Diamond that North
+Wind and he were motionless, all but the hair. It was not so. They were
+sweeping with the speed of the wind itself towards the sea.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII. THE CATHEDRAL
+
+
+I MUST not go on describing what cannot be described, for nothing is
+more wearisome.
+
+Before they reached the sea, Diamond felt North Wind's hair just
+beginning to fall about him.
+
+“Is the storm over, North Wind?” he called out.
+
+“No, Diamond. I am only waiting a moment to set you down. You would not
+like to see the ship sunk, and I am going to give you a place to stop in
+till I come back for you.”
+
+“Oh! thank you,” said Diamond. “I shall be sorry to leave you, North
+Wind, but I would rather not see the ship go down. And I'm afraid the
+poor people will cry, and I should hear them. Oh, dear!”
+
+“There are a good many passengers on board; and to tell the truth,
+Diamond, I don't care about your hearing the cry you speak of. I am
+afraid you would not get it out of your little head again for a long
+time.”
+
+“But how can you bear it then, North Wind? For I am sure you are kind. I
+shall never doubt that again.”
+
+“I will tell you how I am able to bear it, Diamond: I am always hearing,
+through every noise, through all the noise I am making myself even, the
+sound of a far-off song. I do not exactly know where it is, or what it
+means; and I don't hear much of it, only the odour of its music, as it
+were, flitting across the great billows of the ocean outside this air in
+which I make such a storm; but what I do hear is quite enough to make
+me able to bear the cry from the drowning ship. So it would you if you
+could hear it.”
+
+“No, it wouldn't,” returned Diamond, stoutly. “For they wouldn't hear
+the music of the far-away song; and if they did, it wouldn't do them
+any good. You see you and I are not going to be drowned, and so we might
+enjoy it.”
+
+“But you have never heard the psalm, and you don't know what it is like.
+Somehow, I can't say how, it tells me that all is right; that it is
+coming to swallow up all cries.”
+
+“But that won't do them any good--the people, I mean,” persisted
+Diamond.
+
+“It must. It must,” said North Wind, hurriedly. “It wouldn't be the song
+it seems to be if it did not swallow up all their fear and pain too, and
+set them singing it themselves with the rest. I am sure it will. And do
+you know, ever since I knew I had hair, that is, ever since it began
+to go out and away, that song has been coming nearer and nearer. Only I
+must say it was some thousand years before I heard it.”
+
+“But how can you say it was coming nearer when you did not hear it?”
+ asked doubting little Diamond.
+
+“Since I began to hear it, I know it is growing louder, therefore I
+judge it was coming nearer and nearer until I did hear it first. I'm not
+so very old, you know--a few thousand years only--and I was quite a baby
+when I heard the noise first, but I knew it must come from the voices
+of people ever so much older and wiser than I was. I can't sing at all,
+except now and then, and I can never tell what my song is going to be; I
+only know what it is after I have sung it.--But this will never do. Will
+you stop here?”
+
+“I can't see anywhere to stop,” said Diamond. “Your hair is all down
+like a darkness, and I can't see through it if I knock my eyes into it
+ever so much.”
+
+“Look, then,” said North Wind; and, with one sweep of her great white
+arm, she swept yards deep of darkness like a great curtain from before
+the face of the boy.
+
+And lo! it was a blue night, lit up with stars. Where it did not shine
+with stars it shimmered with the milk of the stars, except where, just
+opposite to Diamond's face, the grey towers of a cathedral blotted out
+each its own shape of sky and stars.
+
+“Oh! what's that?” cried Diamond, struck with a kind of terror, for he
+had never seen a cathedral, and it rose before him with an awful reality
+in the midst of the wide spaces, conquering emptiness with grandeur.
+
+“A very good place for you to wait in,” said North Wind. “But we shall
+go in, and you shall judge for yourself.”
+
+There was an open door in the middle of one of the towers, leading out
+upon the roof, and through it they passed. Then North Wind set Diamond
+on his feet, and he found himself at the top of a stone stair, which
+went twisting away down into the darkness for only a little light came
+in at the door. It was enough, however, to allow Diamond to see that
+North Wind stood beside him. He looked up to find her face, and saw that
+she was no longer a beautiful giantess, but the tall gracious lady he
+liked best to see. She took his hand, and, giving him the broad part
+of the spiral stair to walk on, led him down a good way; then, opening
+another little door, led him out upon a narrow gallery that ran all
+round the central part of the church, on the ledges of the windows
+of the clerestory, and through openings in the parts of the wall that
+divided the windows from each other. It was very narrow, and except when
+they were passing through the wall, Diamond saw nothing to keep him
+from falling into the church. It lay below him like a great silent gulf
+hollowed in stone, and he held his breath for fear as he looked down.
+
+“What are you trembling for, little Diamond?” said the lady, as she
+walked gently along, with her hand held out behind her leading him, for
+there was not breadth enough for them to walk side by side.
+
+“I am afraid of falling down there,” answered Diamond. “It is so deep
+down.”
+
+“Yes, rather,” answered North Wind; “but you were a hundred times higher
+a few minutes ago.”
+
+“Ah, yes, but somebody's arm was about me then,” said Diamond, putting
+his little mouth to the beautiful cold hand that had a hold of his.
+
+“What a dear little warm mouth you've got!” said North Wind. “It is a
+pity you should talk nonsense with it. Don't you know I have a hold of
+you?”
+
+“Yes; but I'm walking on my own legs, and they might slip. I can't trust
+myself so well as your arms.”
+
+“But I have a hold of you, I tell you, foolish child.”
+
+“Yes, but somehow I can't feel comfortable.”
+
+“If you were to fall, and my hold of you were to give way, I should be
+down after you in a less moment than a lady's watch can tick, and catch
+you long before you had reached the ground.”
+
+“I don't like it though,” said Diamond.
+
+“Oh! oh! oh!” he screamed the next moment, bent double with terror, for
+North Wind had let go her hold of his hand, and had vanished, leaving
+him standing as if rooted to the gallery.
+
+She left the words, “Come after me,” sounding in his ears.
+
+But move he dared not. In a moment more he would from very terror have
+fallen into the church, but suddenly there came a gentle breath of cool
+wind upon his face, and it kept blowing upon him in little puffs, and at
+every puff Diamond felt his faintness going away, and his fear with it.
+Courage was reviving in his little heart, and still the cool wafts of
+the soft wind breathed upon him, and the soft wind was so mighty and
+strong within its gentleness, that in a minute more Diamond was marching
+along the narrow ledge as fearless for the time as North Wind herself.
+
+He walked on and on, with the windows all in a row on one side of him,
+and the great empty nave of the church echoing to every one of his brave
+strides on the other, until at last he came to a little open door, from
+which a broader stair led him down and down and down, till at last all
+at once he found himself in the arms of North Wind, who held him close
+to her, and kissed him on the forehead. Diamond nestled to her, and
+murmured into her bosom,--“Why did you leave me, dear North Wind?”
+
+“Because I wanted you to walk alone,” she answered.
+
+“But it is so much nicer here!” said Diamond.
+
+“I daresay; but I couldn't hold a little coward to my heart. It would
+make me so cold!”
+
+“But I wasn't brave of myself,” said Diamond, whom my older readers will
+have already discovered to be a true child in this, that he was given to
+metaphysics. “It was the wind that blew in my face that made me brave.
+Wasn't it now, North Wind?”
+
+“Yes: I know that. You had to be taught what courage was. And you
+couldn't know what it was without feeling it: therefore it was given
+you. But don't you feel as if you would try to be brave yourself next
+time?”
+
+“Yes, I do. But trying is not much.”
+
+“Yes, it is--a very great deal, for it is a beginning. And a beginning
+is the greatest thing of all. To try to be brave is to be brave. The
+coward who tries to be brave is before the man who is brave because he
+is made so, and never had to try.”
+
+“How kind you are, North Wind!”
+
+“I am only just. All kindness is but justice. We owe it.”
+
+“I don't quite understand that.”
+
+“Never mind; you will some day. There is no hurry about understanding it
+now.”
+
+“Who blew the wind on me that made me brave?”
+
+“I did.”
+
+“I didn't see you.”
+
+“Therefore you can believe me.”
+
+“Yes, yes; of course. But how was it that such a little breath could be
+so strong?”
+
+“That I don't know.”
+
+“But you made it strong?”
+
+“No: I only blew it. I knew it would make you strong, just as it did the
+man in the boat, you remember. But how my breath has that power I cannot
+tell. It was put into it when I was made. That is all I know. But really
+I must be going about my work.”
+
+“Ah! the poor ship! I wish you would stop here, and let the poor ship
+go.”
+
+“That I dare not do. Will you stop here till I come back?”
+
+“Yes. You won't be long?”
+
+“Not longer than I can help. Trust me, you shall get home before the
+morning.”
+
+In a moment North Wind was gone, and the next Diamond heard a moaning
+about the church, which grew and grew to a roaring. The storm was up
+again, and he knew that North Wind's hair was flying.
+
+The church was dark. Only a little light came through the windows, which
+were almost all of that precious old stained glass which is so much
+lovelier than the new. But Diamond could not see how beautiful they
+were, for there was not enough of light in the stars to show the colours
+of them. He could only just distinguish them from the walls, He looked
+up, but could not see the gallery along which he had passed. He could
+only tell where it was far up by the faint glimmer of the windows of
+the clerestory, whose sills made part of it. The church grew very lonely
+about him, and he began to feel like a child whose mother has forsaken
+it. Only he knew that to be left alone is not always to be forsaken.
+
+He began to feel his way about the place, and for a while went wandering
+up and down. His little footsteps waked little answering echoes in the
+great house. It wasn't too big to mind him. It was as if the church knew
+he was there, and meant to make itself his house. So it went on giving
+back an answer to every step, until at length Diamond thought he should
+like to say something out loud, and see what the church would answer.
+But he found he was afraid to speak. He could not utter a word for fear
+of the loneliness. Perhaps it was as well that he did not, for the sound
+of a spoken word would have made him feel the place yet more deserted
+and empty. But he thought he could sing. He was fond of singing, and
+at home he used to sing, to tunes of his own, all the nursery rhymes he
+knew. So he began to try `Hey diddle diddle', but it wouldn't do. Then
+he tried `Little Boy Blue', but it was no better. Neither would `Sing a
+Song of Sixpence' sing itself at all. Then he tried `Poor old Cockytoo',
+but he wouldn't do. They all sounded so silly! and he had never thought
+them silly before. So he was quiet, and listened to the echoes that came
+out of the dark corners in answer to his footsteps.
+
+At last he gave a great sigh, and said, “I'm so tired.” But he did not
+hear the gentle echo that answered from far away over his head, for at
+the same moment he came against the lowest of a few steps that stretched
+across the church, and fell down and hurt his arm. He cried a little
+first, and then crawled up the steps on his hands and knees. At the top
+he came to a little bit of carpet, on which he lay down; and there he
+lay staring at the dull window that rose nearly a hundred feet above his
+head.
+
+Now this was the eastern window of the church, and the moon was at that
+moment just on the edge of the horizon. The next, she was peeping over
+it. And lo! with the moon, St. John and St. Paul, and the rest of them,
+began to dawn in the window in their lovely garments. Diamond did not
+know that the wonder-working moon was behind, and he thought all the
+light was coming out of the window itself, and that the good old men
+were appearing to help him, growing out of the night and the darkness,
+because he had hurt his arm, and was very tired and lonely, and North
+Wind was so long in coming. So he lay and looked at them backwards over
+his head, wondering when they would come down or what they would do
+next. They were very dim, for the moonlight was not strong enough for
+the colours, and he had enough to do with his eyes trying to make out
+their shapes. So his eyes grew tired, and more and more tired, and his
+eyelids grew so heavy that they would keep tumbling down over his eyes.
+He kept lifting them and lifting them, but every time they were heavier
+than the last. It was no use: they were too much for him. Sometimes
+before he had got them half up, down they were again; and at length he
+gave it up quite, and the moment he gave it up, he was fast asleep.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII. THE EAST WINDOW
+
+
+THAT Diamond had fallen fast asleep is very evident from the strange
+things he now fancied as taking place. For he thought he heard a sound
+as of whispering up in the great window. He tried to open his eyes, but
+he could not. And the whispering went on and grew louder and louder,
+until he could hear every word that was said. He thought it was the
+Apostles talking about him. But he could not open his eyes.
+
+“And how comes he to be lying there, St. Peter?” said one.
+
+“I think I saw him a while ago up in the gallery, under the Nicodemus
+window. Perhaps he has fallen down.
+
+“What do you think, St. Matthew?”
+
+“I don't think he could have crept here after falling from such a
+height. He must have been killed.”
+
+“What are we to do with him? We can't leave him lying there. And we
+could not make him comfortable up here in the window: it's rather
+crowded already. What do you say, St. Thomas?”
+
+“Let's go down and look at him.”
+
+There came a rustling, and a chinking, for some time, and then there was
+a silence, and Diamond felt somehow that all the Apostles were standing
+round him and looking down on him. And still he could not open his eyes.
+
+“What is the matter with him, St. Luke?” asked one.
+
+“There's nothing the matter with him,” answered St. Luke, who must
+have joined the company of the Apostles from the next window, one would
+think. “He's in a sound sleep.”
+
+“I have it,” cried another. “This is one of North Wind's tricks. She
+has caught him up and dropped him at our door, like a withered leaf or a
+foundling baby. I don't understand that woman's conduct, I must say. As
+if we hadn't enough to do with our money, without going taking care
+of other people's children! That's not what our forefathers built
+cathedrals for.”
+
+Now Diamond could not bear to hear such things against North Wind, who,
+he knew, never played anybody a trick. She was far too busy with her own
+work for that. He struggled hard to open his eyes, but without success.
+
+“She should consider that a church is not a place for pranks, not to
+mention that we live in it,” said another.
+
+“It certainly is disrespectful of her. But she always is disrespectful.
+What right has she to bang at our windows as she has been doing the
+whole of this night? I daresay there is glass broken somewhere. I know
+my blue robe is in a dreadful mess with the rain first and the dust
+after. It will cost me shillings to clean it.”
+
+Then Diamond knew that they could not be Apostles, talking like this.
+They could only be the sextons and vergers and such-like, who got up at
+night, and put on the robes of deans and bishops, and called each other
+grand names, as the foolish servants he had heard his father tell of
+call themselves lords and ladies, after their masters and mistresses.
+And he was so angry at their daring to abuse North Wind, that he jumped
+up, crying--“North Wind knows best what she is about. She has a good
+right to blow the cobwebs from your windows, for she was sent to do it.
+She sweeps them away from grander places, I can tell you, for I've been
+with her at it.”
+
+This was what he began to say, but as he spoke his eyes came wide open,
+and behold, there were neither Apostles nor vergers there--not even a
+window with the effigies of holy men in it, but a dark heap of hay all
+about him, and the little panes in the roof of his loft glimmering blue
+in the light of the morning. Old Diamond was coming awake down below in
+the stable. In a moment more he was on his feet, and shaking himself so
+that young Diamond's bed trembled under him.
+
+“He's grand at shaking himself,” said Diamond. “I wish I could shake
+myself like that. But then I can wash myself, and he can't. What fun
+it would be to see Old Diamond washing his face with his hoofs and iron
+shoes! Wouldn't it be a picture?”
+
+So saying, he got up and dressed himself. Then he went out into the
+garden. There must have been a tremendous wind in the night, for
+although all was quiet now, there lay the little summer-house crushed
+to the ground, and over it the great elm-tree, which the wind had broken
+across, being much decayed in the middle. Diamond almost cried to see
+the wilderness of green leaves, which used to be so far up in the blue
+air, tossing about in the breeze, and liking it best when the wind blew
+it most, now lying so near the ground, and without any hope of ever
+getting up into the deep air again.
+
+“I wonder how old the tree is!” thought Diamond. “It must take a long
+time to get so near the sky as that poor tree was.”
+
+“Yes, indeed,” said a voice beside him, for Diamond had spoken the last
+words aloud.
+
+Diamond started, and looking around saw a clergyman, a brother of Mrs.
+Coleman, who happened to be visiting her. He was a great scholar, and
+was in the habit of rising early.
+
+“Who are you, my man?” he added.
+
+“Little Diamond,” answered the boy.
+
+“Oh! I have heard of you. How do you come to be up so early?”
+
+“Because the sham Apostles talked such nonsense, they waked me up.”
+
+The clergyman stared. Diamond saw that he had better have held his
+tongue, for he could not explain things.
+
+“You must have been dreaming, my little man,” said he. “Dear! dear!” he
+went on, looking at the tree, “there has been terrible work here. This
+is the north wind's doing. What a pity! I wish we lived at the back of
+it, I'm sure.”
+
+“Where is that sir?” asked Diamond.
+
+“Away in the Hyperborean regions,” answered the clergyman, smiling.
+
+“I never heard of the place,” returned Diamond.
+
+“I daresay not,” answered the clergyman; “but if this tree had been
+there now, it would not have been blown down, for there is no wind
+there.”
+
+“But, please, sir, if it had been there,” said Diamond, “we should not
+have had to be sorry for it.”
+
+“Certainly not.”
+
+“Then we shouldn't have had to be glad for it, either.”
+
+“You're quite right, my boy,” said the clergyman, looking at him very
+kindly, as he turned away to the house, with his eyes bent towards the
+earth. But Diamond thought within himself, “I will ask North Wind next
+time I see her to take me to that country. I think she did speak about
+it once before.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX. HOW DIAMOND GOT TO THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND
+
+
+WHEN Diamond went home to breakfast, he found his father and mother
+already seated at the table. They were both busy with their bread and
+butter, and Diamond sat himself down in his usual place. His mother
+looked up at him, and, after watching him for a moment, said:
+
+“I don't think the boy is looking well, husband.”
+
+“Don't you? Well, I don't know. I think he looks pretty bobbish. How do
+you feel yourself, Diamond, my boy?”
+
+“Quite well, thank you, father; at least, I think I've got a little
+headache.”
+
+“There! I told you,” said his father and mother both at once.
+
+“The child's very poorly” added his mother.
+
+“The child's quite well,” added his father.
+
+And then they both laughed.
+
+“You see,” said his mother, “I've had a letter from my sister at
+Sandwich.”
+
+“Sleepy old hole!” said his father.
+
+“Don't abuse the place; there's good people in it,” said his mother.
+
+“Right, old lady,” returned his father; “only I don't believe there are
+more than two pair of carriage-horses in the whole blessed place.”
+
+“Well, people can get to heaven without carriages--or coachmen either,
+husband. Not that I should like to go without my coachman, you know. But
+about the boy?”
+
+“What boy?”
+
+“That boy, there, staring at you with his goggle-eyes.”
+
+“Have I got goggle-eyes, mother?” asked Diamond, a little dismayed.
+
+“Not too goggle,” said his mother, who was quite proud of her boy's
+eyes, only did not want to make him vain.
+
+“Not too goggle; only you need not stare so.”
+
+“Well, what about him?” said his father.
+
+“I told you I had got a letter.”
+
+“Yes, from your sister; not from Diamond.”
+
+“La, husband! you've got out of bed the wrong leg first this morning, I
+do believe.”
+
+“I always get out with both at once,” said his father, laughing.
+
+“Well, listen then. His aunt wants the boy to go down and see her.”
+
+“And that's why you want to make out that he ain't looking well.”
+
+“No more he is. I think he had better go.”
+
+“Well, I don't care, if you can find the money,” said his father.
+
+“I'll manage that,” said his mother; and so it was agreed that Diamond
+should go to Sandwich.
+
+I will not describe the preparations Diamond made. You would have
+thought he had been going on a three months' voyage. Nor will I describe
+the journey, for our business is now at the place. He was met at the
+station by his aunt, a cheerful middle-aged woman, and conveyed in
+safety to the sleepy old town, as his father called it. And no wonder
+that it was sleepy, for it was nearly dead of old age.
+
+Diamond went about staring with his beautiful goggle-eyes, at the quaint
+old streets, and the shops, and the houses. Everything looked very
+strange, indeed; for here was a town abandoned by its nurse, the sea,
+like an old oyster left on the shore till it gaped for weariness. It
+used to be one of the five chief seaports in England, but it began to
+hold itself too high, and the consequence was the sea grew less and less
+intimate with it, gradually drew back, and kept more to itself, till at
+length it left it high and dry: Sandwich was a seaport no more; the sea
+went on with its own tide-business a long way off, and forgot it. Of
+course it went to sleep, and had no more to do with ships. That's what
+comes to cities and nations, and boys and girls, who say, “I can do
+without your help. I'm enough for myself.”
+
+Diamond soon made great friends with an old woman who kept a toyshop,
+for his mother had given him twopence for pocket-money before he left,
+and he had gone into her shop to spend it, and she got talking to him.
+She looked very funny, because she had not got any teeth, but Diamond
+liked her, and went often to her shop, although he had nothing to spend
+there after the twopence was gone.
+
+One afternoon he had been wandering rather wearily about the streets
+for some time. It was a hot day, and he felt tired. As he passed the
+toyshop, he stepped in.
+
+“Please may I sit down for a minute on this box?” he said, thinking the
+old woman was somewhere in the shop. But he got no answer, and sat down
+without one. Around him were a great many toys of all prices, from a
+penny up to shillings. All at once he heard a gentle whirring somewhere
+amongst them. It made him start and look behind him. There were the
+sails of a windmill going round and round almost close to his ear. He
+thought at first it must be one of those toys which are wound up and go
+with clockwork; but no, it was a common penny toy, with the windmill at
+the end of a whistle, and when the whistle blows the windmill goes. But
+the wonder was that there was no one at the whistle end blowing, and
+yet the sails were turning round and round--now faster, now slower, now
+faster again.
+
+“What can it mean?” said Diamond, aloud.
+
+“It means me,” said the tiniest voice he had ever heard.
+
+“Who are you, please?” asked Diamond.
+
+“Well, really, I begin to be ashamed of you,” said the voice. “I wonder
+how long it will be before you know me; or how often I might take you in
+before you got sharp enough to suspect me. You are as bad as a baby that
+doesn't know his mother in a new bonnet.”
+
+“Not quite so bad as that, dear North Wind,” said Diamond, “for I didn't
+see you at all, and indeed I don't see you yet, although I recognise
+your voice. Do grow a little, please.”
+
+“Not a hair's-breadth,” said the voice, and it was the smallest voice
+that ever spoke. “What are you doing here?”
+
+“I am come to see my aunt. But, please, North Wind, why didn't you come
+back for me in the church that night?”
+
+“I did. I carried you safe home. All the time you were dreaming about
+the glass Apostles, you were lying in my arms.”
+
+“I'm so glad,” said Diamond. “I thought that must be it, only I wanted
+to hear you say so. Did you sink the ship, then?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“And drown everybody?”
+
+“Not quite. One boat got away with six or seven men in it.”
+
+“How could the boat swim when the ship couldn't?”
+
+“Of course I had some trouble with it. I had to contrive a bit, and
+manage the waves a little. When they're once thoroughly waked up, I have
+a good deal of trouble with them sometimes. They're apt to get stupid
+with tumbling over each other's heads. That's when they're fairly at it.
+However, the boat got to a desert island before noon next day.”
+
+“And what good will come of that?”
+
+“I don't know. I obeyed orders. Good bye.”
+
+“Oh! stay, North Wind, do stay!” cried Diamond, dismayed to see the
+windmill get slower and slower.
+
+“What is it, my dear child?” said North Wind, and the windmill began
+turning again so swiftly that Diamond could scarcely see it. “What a big
+voice you've got! and what a noise you do make with it? What is it you
+want? I have little to do, but that little must be done.”
+
+“I want you to take me to the country at the back of the north wind.”
+
+“That's not so easy,” said North Wind, and was silent for so long that
+Diamond thought she was gone indeed. But after he had quite given her
+up, the voice began again.
+
+“I almost wish old Herodotus had held his tongue about it. Much he knew
+of it!”
+
+“Why do you wish that, North Wind?”
+
+“Because then that clergyman would never have heard of it, and set you
+wanting to go. But we shall see. We shall see. You must go home now, my
+dear, for you don't seem very well, and I'll see what can be done for
+you. Don't wait for me. I've got to break a few of old Goody's toys;
+she's thinking too much of her new stock. Two or three will do. There!
+go now.”
+
+Diamond rose, quite sorry, and without a word left the shop, and went
+home.
+
+It soon appeared that his mother had been right about him, for that same
+afternoon his head began to ache very much, and he had to go to bed.
+
+He awoke in the middle of the night. The lattice window of his room had
+blown open, and the curtains of his little bed were swinging about in
+the wind.
+
+“If that should be North Wind now!” thought Diamond.
+
+But the next moment he heard some one closing the window, and his aunt
+came to his bedside. She put her hand on his face, and said--
+
+“How's your head, dear?”
+
+“Better, auntie, I think.”
+
+“Would you like something to drink?”
+
+“Oh, yes! I should, please.”
+
+So his aunt gave him some lemonade, for she had been used to nursing
+sick people, and Diamond felt very much refreshed, and laid his head
+down again to go very fast asleep, as he thought. And so he did, but
+only to come awake again, as a fresh burst of wind blew the lattice
+open a second time. The same moment he found himself in a cloud of North
+Wind's hair, with her beautiful face, set in it like a moon, bending
+over him.
+
+“Quick, Diamond!” she said. “I have found such a chance!”
+
+“But I'm not well,” said Diamond.
+
+“I know that, but you will be better for a little fresh air. You shall
+have plenty of that.”
+
+“You want me to go, then?”
+
+“Yes, I do. It won't hurt you.”
+
+“Very well,” said Diamond; and getting out of the bed-clothes, he jumped
+into North Wind's arms.
+
+“We must make haste before your aunt comes,” said she, as she glided out
+of the open lattice and left it swinging.
+
+The moment Diamond felt her arms fold around him he began to feel
+better. It was a moonless night, and very dark, with glimpses of stars
+when the clouds parted.
+
+“I used to dash the waves about here,” said North Wind, “where cows and
+sheep are feeding now; but we shall soon get to them. There they are.”
+
+And Diamond, looking down, saw the white glimmer of breaking water far
+below him.
+
+“You see, Diamond,” said North Wind, “it is very difficult for me to
+get you to the back of the north wind, for that country lies in the very
+north itself, and of course I can't blow northwards.”
+
+“Why not?” asked Diamond.
+
+“You little silly!” said North Wind. “Don't you see that if I were to
+blow northwards I should be South Wind, and that is as much as to say
+that one person could be two persons?”
+
+“But how can you ever get home at all, then?”
+
+“You are quite right--that is my home, though I never get farther than
+the outer door. I sit on the doorstep, and hear the voices inside. I am
+nobody there, Diamond.”
+
+“I'm very sorry.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“That you should be nobody.”
+
+“Oh, I don't mind it. Dear little man! you will be very glad some day
+to be nobody yourself. But you can't understand that now, and you had
+better not try; for if you do, you will be certain to go fancying some
+egregious nonsense, and making yourself miserable about it.”
+
+“Then I won't,” said Diamond.
+
+“There's a good boy. It will all come in good time.”
+
+“But you haven't told me how you get to the doorstep, you know.”
+
+“It is easy enough for me. I have only to consent to be nobody, and
+there I am. I draw into myself and there I am on the doorstep. But you
+can easily see, or you have less sense than I think, that to drag you,
+you heavy thing, along with me, would take centuries, and I could not
+give the time to it.”
+
+“Oh, I'm so sorry!” said Diamond.
+
+“What for now, pet?”
+
+“That I'm so heavy for you. I would be lighter if I could, but I don't
+know how.”
+
+“You silly darling! Why, I could toss you a hundred miles from me if I
+liked. It is only when I am going home that I shall find you heavy.”
+
+“Then you are going home with me?”
+
+“Of course. Did I not come to fetch you just for that?”
+
+“But all this time you must be going southwards.”
+
+“Yes. Of course I am.”
+
+“How can you be taking me northwards, then?”
+
+“A very sensible question. But you shall see. I will get rid of a few of
+these clouds--only they do come up so fast! It's like trying to blow a
+brook dry. There! What do you see now?”
+
+“I think I see a little boat, away there, down below.”
+
+“A little boat, indeed! Well! She's a yacht of two hundred tons; and the
+captain of it is a friend of mine; for he is a man of good sense, and
+can sail his craft well. I've helped him many a time when he little
+thought it. I've heard him grumbling at me, when I was doing the very
+best I could for him. Why, I've carried him eighty miles a day, again
+and again, right north.”
+
+“He must have dodged for that,” said Diamond, who had been watching the
+vessels, and had seen that they went other ways than the wind blew.
+
+“Of course he must. But don't you see, it was the best I could do? I
+couldn't be South Wind. And besides it gave him a share in the business.
+It is not good at all--mind that, Diamond--to do everything for those
+you love, and not give them a share in the doing. It's not kind. It's
+making too much of yourself, my child. If I had been South Wind, he
+would only have smoked his pipe all day, and made himself stupid.”
+
+“But how could he be a man of sense and grumble at you when you were
+doing your best for him?”
+
+“Oh! you must make allowances,” said North Wind, “or you will never do
+justice to anybody.--You do understand, then, that a captain may sail
+north----”
+
+“In spite of a north wind--yes,” supplemented Diamond.
+
+“Now, I do think you must be stupid, my dear” said North Wind. “Suppose
+the north wind did not blow where would he be then?”
+
+“Why then the south wind would carry him.”
+
+“So you think that when the north wind stops the south wind blows.
+Nonsense. If I didn't blow, the captain couldn't sail his eighty miles
+a day. No doubt South Wind would carry him faster, but South Wind is
+sitting on her doorstep then, and if I stopped there would be a dead
+calm. So you are all wrong to say he can sail north in spite of me; he
+sails north by my help, and my help alone. You see that, Diamond?”
+
+“Yes, I do, North Wind. I am stupid, but I don't want to be stupid.”
+
+“Good boy! I am going to blow you north in that little craft, one of the
+finest that ever sailed the sea. Here we are, right over it. I shall
+be blowing against you; you will be sailing against me; and all will be
+just as we want it. The captain won't get on so fast as he would like,
+but he will get on, and so shall we. I'm just going to put you on board.
+Do you see in front of the tiller--that thing the man is working, now to
+one side, now to the other--a round thing like the top of a drum?”
+
+“Yes,” said Diamond.
+
+“Below that is where they keep their spare sails, and some stores of
+that sort. I am going to blow that cover off. The same moment I will
+drop you on deck, and you must tumble in. Don't be afraid, it is of no
+depth, and you will fall on sail-cloth. You will find it nice and warm
+and dry-only dark; and you will know I am near you by every roll and
+pitch of the vessel. Coil yourself up and go to sleep. The yacht shall
+be my cradle and you shall be my baby.”
+
+“Thank you, dear North Wind. I am not a bit afraid,” said Diamond.
+
+In a moment they were on a level with the bulwarks, and North Wind sent
+the hatch of the after-store rattling away over the deck to leeward. The
+next, Diamond found himself in the dark, for he had tumbled through the
+hole as North Wind had told him, and the cover was replaced over his
+head. Away he went rolling to leeward, for the wind began all at once to
+blow hard. He heard the call of the captain, and the loud trampling of
+the men over his head, as they hauled at the main sheet to get the boom
+on board that they might take in a reef in the mainsail. Diamond felt
+about until he had found what seemed the most comfortable place, and
+there he snuggled down and lay.
+
+Hours after hours, a great many of them, went by; and still Diamond
+lay there. He never felt in the least tired or impatient, for a strange
+pleasure filled his heart. The straining of the masts, the creaking of
+the boom, the singing of the ropes, the banging of the blocks as they
+put the vessel about, all fell in with the roaring of the wind above,
+the surge of the waves past her sides, and the thud with which every now
+and then one would strike her; while through it all Diamond could hear
+the gurgling, rippling, talking flow of the water against her planks,
+as she slipped through it, lying now on this side, now on that--like a
+subdued air running through the grand music his North Wind was making
+about him to keep him from tiring as they sped on towards the country at
+the back of her doorstep.
+
+How long this lasted Diamond had no idea. He seemed to fall asleep
+sometimes, only through the sleep he heard the sounds going on. At
+length the weather seemed to get worse. The confusion and trampling of
+feet grew more frequent over his head; the vessel lay over more and
+more on her side, and went roaring through the waves, which banged and
+thumped at her as if in anger. All at once arose a terrible uproar. The
+hatch was blown off; a cold fierce wind swept in upon him; and a long
+arm came with it which laid hold of him and lifted him out. The same
+moment he saw the little vessel far below him righting herself. She had
+taken in all her sails and lay now tossing on the waves like a sea-bird
+with folded wings. A short distance to the south lay a much larger
+vessel, with two or three sails set, and towards it North Wind was
+carrying Diamond. It was a German ship, on its way to the North Pole.
+
+“That vessel down there will give us a lift now,” said North Wind; “and
+after that I must do the best I can.”
+
+She managed to hide him amongst the flags of the big ship, which were
+all snugly stowed away, and on and on they sped towards the north. At
+length one night she whispered in his ear, “Come on deck, Diamond;” and
+he got up at once and crept on deck. Everything looked very strange.
+Here and there on all sides were huge masses of floating ice, looking
+like cathedrals, and castles, and crags, while away beyond was a blue
+sea.
+
+“Is the sun rising or setting?” asked Diamond.
+
+“Neither or both, which you please. I can hardly tell which myself. If
+he is setting now, he will be rising the next moment.”
+
+“What a strange light it is!” said Diamond. “I have heard that the sun
+doesn't go to bed all the summer in these parts. Miss Coleman told me
+that. I suppose he feels very sleepy, and that is why the light he sends
+out looks so like a dream.”
+
+“That will account for it well enough for all practical purposes,” said
+North Wind.
+
+Some of the icebergs were drifting northwards; one was passing very near
+the ship. North Wind seized Diamond, and with a single bound lighted on
+one of them--a huge thing, with sharp pinnacles and great clefts. The
+same instant a wind began to blow from the south. North Wind hurried
+Diamond down the north side of the iceberg, stepping by its jags and
+splintering; for this berg had never got far enough south to be melted
+and smoothed by the summer sun. She brought him to a cave near the
+water, where she entered, and, letting Diamond go, sat down as if weary
+on a ledge of ice.
+
+Diamond seated himself on the other side, and for a while was enraptured
+with the colour of the air inside the cave. It was a deep, dazzling,
+lovely blue, deeper than the deepest blue of the sky. The blue seemed to
+be in constant motion, like the blackness when you press your eyeballs
+with your fingers, boiling and sparkling. But when he looked across to
+North Wind he was frightened; her face was worn and livid.
+
+“What is the matter with you, dear North Wind?” he said.
+
+“Nothing much. I feel very faint. But you mustn't mind it, for I can
+bear it quite well. South Wind always blows me faint. If it were not for
+the cool of the thick ice between me and her, I should faint altogether.
+Indeed, as it is, I fear I must vanish.”
+
+Diamond stared at her in terror, for he saw that her form and face were
+growing, not small, but transparent, like something dissolving, not in
+water, but in light. He could see the side of the blue cave through her
+very heart. And she melted away till all that was left was a pale face,
+like the moon in the morning, with two great lucid eyes in it.
+
+“I am going, Diamond,” she said.
+
+“Does it hurt you?” asked Diamond.
+
+“It's very uncomfortable,” she answered; “but I don't mind it, for I
+shall come all right again before long. I thought I should be able to go
+with you all the way, but I cannot. You must not be frightened though.
+Just go straight on, and you will come all right. You'll find me on the
+doorstep.”
+
+As she spoke, her face too faded quite away, only Diamond thought he
+could still see her eyes shining through the blue. When he went closer,
+however, he found that what he thought her eyes were only two hollows in
+the ice. North Wind was quite gone; and Diamond would have cried, if he
+had not trusted her so thoroughly. So he sat still in the blue air of
+the cavern listening to the wash and ripple of the water all about the
+base of the iceberg, as it sped on and on into the open sea northwards.
+It was an excellent craft to go with the current, for there was twice as
+much of it below water as above. But a light south wind was blowing too,
+and so it went fast.
+
+After a little while Diamond went out and sat on the edge of his
+floating island, and looked down into the ocean beneath him. The white
+sides of the berg reflected so much light below the water, that he could
+see far down into the green abyss. Sometimes he fancied he saw the eyes
+of North Wind looking up at him from below, but the fancy never lasted
+beyond the moment of its birth. And the time passed he did not know how,
+for he felt as if he were in a dream. When he got tired of the green
+water, he went into the blue cave; and when he got tired of the blue
+cave he went out and gazed all about him on the blue sea, ever sparkling
+in the sun, which kept wheeling about the sky, never going below the
+horizon. But he chiefly gazed northwards, to see whether any land were
+appearing. All this time he never wanted to eat. He broke off little
+bits of the berg now and then and sucked them, and he thought them very
+nice.
+
+At length, one time he came out of his cave, he spied far off on the
+horizon, a shining peak that rose into the sky like the top of some
+tremendous iceberg; and his vessel was bearing him straight towards
+it. As it went on the peak rose and rose higher and higher above the
+horizon; and other peaks rose after it, with sharp edges and jagged
+ridges connecting them. Diamond thought this must be the place he was
+going to; and he was right; for the mountains rose and rose, till he saw
+the line of the coast at their feet and at length the iceberg drove into
+a little bay, all around which were lofty precipices with snow on their
+tops, and streaks of ice down their sides. The berg floated slowly up to
+a projecting rock. Diamond stepped on shore, and without looking behind
+him began to follow a natural path which led windingly towards the top
+of the precipice.
+
+When he reached it, he found himself on a broad table of ice,
+along which he could walk without much difficulty. Before him, at a
+considerable distance, rose a lofty ridge of ice, which shot up into
+fantastic pinnacles and towers and battlements. The air was very cold,
+and seemed somehow dead, for there was not the slightest breath of wind.
+
+In the centre of the ridge before him appeared a gap like the opening
+of a valley. But as he walked towards it, gazing, and wondering whether
+that could be the way he had to take, he saw that what had appeared a
+gap was the form of a woman seated against the ice front of the ridge,
+leaning forwards with her hands in her lap, and her hair hanging down to
+the ground.
+
+“It is North Wind on her doorstep,” said Diamond joyfully, and hurried
+on.
+
+He soon came up to the place, and there the form sat, like one of
+the great figures at the door of an Egyptian temple, motionless, with
+drooping arms and head. Then Diamond grew frightened, because she did
+not move nor speak. He was sure it was North Wind, but he thought she
+must be dead at last. Her face was white as the snow, her eyes were
+blue as the air in the ice-cave, and her hair hung down straight, like
+icicles. She had on a greenish robe, like the colour in the hollows of a
+glacier seen from far off.
+
+He stood up before her, and gazed fearfully into her face for a few
+minutes before he ventured to speak. At length, with a great effort and
+a trembling voice, he faltered out--
+
+“North Wind!”
+
+“Well, child?” said the form, without lifting its head.
+
+“Are you ill, dear North Wind?”
+
+“No. I am waiting.”
+
+“What for?”
+
+“Till I'm wanted.”
+
+“You don't care for me any more,” said Diamond, almost crying now.
+
+“Yes I do. Only I can't show it. All my love is down at the bottom of my
+heart. But I feel it bubbling there.”
+
+“What do you want me to do next, dear North Wind?” said Diamond, wishing
+to show his love by being obedient.
+
+“What do you want to do yourself?”
+
+“I want to go into the country at your back.”
+
+“Then you must go through me.”
+
+“I don't know what you mean.”
+
+“I mean just what I say. You must walk on as if I were an open door, and
+go right through me.”
+
+“But that will hurt you.”
+
+“Not in the least. It will hurt you, though.”
+
+“I don't mind that, if you tell me to do it.”
+
+“Do it,” said North Wind.
+
+Diamond walked towards her instantly. When he reached her knees, he put
+out his hand to lay it on her, but nothing was there save an intense
+cold. He walked on. Then all grew white about him; and the cold stung
+him like fire. He walked on still, groping through the whiteness. It
+thickened about him. At last, it got into his heart, and he lost all
+sense. I would say that he fainted--only whereas in common faints all
+grows black about you, he felt swallowed up in whiteness. It was when he
+reached North Wind's heart that he fainted and fell. But as he fell, he
+rolled over the threshold, and it was thus that Diamond got to the back
+of the north wind.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X. AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND
+
+
+I HAVE now come to the most difficult part of my story. And why? Because
+I do not know enough about it. And why should I not know as much about
+this part as about any other part? For of course I could know nothing
+about the story except Diamond had told it; and why should not Diamond
+tell about the country at the back of the north wind, as well as about
+his adventures in getting there? Because, when he came back, he had
+forgotten a great deal, and what he did remember was very hard to tell.
+Things there are so different from things here! The people there do not
+speak the same language for one thing. Indeed, Diamond insisted that
+there they do not speak at all. I do not think he was right, but it may
+well have appeared so to Diamond. The fact is, we have different reports
+of the place from the most trustworthy people. Therefore we are bound
+to believe that it appears somewhat different to different people. All,
+however, agree in a general way about it.
+
+I will tell you something of what two very different people have
+reported, both of whom knew more about it, I believe, than Herodotus.
+One of them speaks from his own experience, for he visited the country;
+the other from the testimony of a young peasant girl who came back from
+it for a month's visit to her friends. The former was a great Italian
+of noble family, who died more than five hundred years ago; the latter a
+Scotch shepherd who died not forty years ago.
+
+The Italian, then, informs us that he had to enter that country through
+a fire so hot that he would have thrown himself into boiling glass to
+cool himself. This was not Diamond's experience, but then Durante--that
+was the name of the Italian, and it means Lasting, for his books will
+last as long as there are enough men in the world worthy of having
+them--Durante was an elderly man, and Diamond was a little boy, and so
+their experience must be a little different. The peasant girl, on the
+other hand, fell fast asleep in a wood, and woke in the same country.
+
+In describing it, Durante says that the ground everywhere smelt sweetly,
+and that a gentle, even-tempered wind, which never blew faster or
+slower, breathed in his face as he went, making all the leaves point one
+way, not so as to disturb the birds in the tops of the trees, but, on
+the contrary, sounding a bass to their song. He describes also a little
+river which was so full that its little waves, as it hurried along, bent
+the grass, full of red and yellow flowers, through which it flowed. He
+says that the purest stream in the world beside this one would look as
+if it were mixed with something that did not belong to it, even although
+it was flowing ever in the brown shadow of the trees, and neither sun
+nor moon could shine upon it. He seems to imply that it is always the
+month of May in that country. It would be out of place to describe here
+the wonderful sights he saw, for the music of them is in another key
+from that of this story, and I shall therefore only add from the account
+of this traveller, that the people there are so free and so just and so
+healthy, that every one of them has a crown like a king and a mitre like
+a priest.
+
+The peasant girl--Kilmeny was her name--could not report such grand
+things as Durante, for, as the shepherd says, telling her story as I
+tell Diamond's--
+
+           “Kilmeny had been she knew not where,
+           And Kilmeny had seen what she could not declare;
+           Kilmeny had been where the cock never crew,
+           Where the rain never fell, and the wind never blew.
+           But it seemed as the harp of the sky had rung,
+           And the airs of heaven played round her tongue,
+           When she spoke of the lovely forms she had seen,
+           And a land where sin had never been;
+           A land of love and a land of light,
+           Withouten sun, or moon, or night;
+           Where the river swayed a living stream,
+           And the light a pure and cloudless beam:
+           The land of vision it would seem,
+           And still an everlasting dream.”
+
+
+The last two lines are the shepherd's own remark, and a matter of
+opinion. But it is clear, I think, that Kilmeny must have described
+the same country as Durante saw, though, not having his experience, she
+could neither understand nor describe it so well.
+
+Now I must give you such fragments of recollection as Diamond was able
+to bring back with him.
+
+When he came to himself after he fell, he found himself at the back of
+the north wind. North Wind herself was nowhere to be seen. Neither
+was there a vestige of snow or of ice within sight. The sun too had
+vanished; but that was no matter, for there was plenty of a certain
+still rayless light. Where it came from he never found out; but he
+thought it belonged to the country itself. Sometimes he thought it came
+out of the flowers, which were very bright, but had no strong colour.
+He said the river--for all agree that there is a river there--flowed
+not only through, but over grass: its channel, instead of being rock,
+stones, pebbles, sand, or anything else, was of pure meadow grass, not
+over long. He insisted that if it did not sing tunes in people's ears,
+it sung tunes in their heads, in proof of which I may mention that, in
+the troubles which followed, Diamond was often heard singing; and when
+asked what he was singing, would answer, “One of the tunes the river
+at the back of the north wind sung.” And I may as well say at once that
+Diamond never told these things to any one but--no, I had better not say
+who it was; but whoever it was told me, and I thought it would be well
+to write them for my child-readers.
+
+He could not say he was very happy there, for he had neither his father
+nor mother with him, but he felt so still and quiet and patient and
+contented, that, as far as the mere feeling went, it was something
+better than mere happiness. Nothing went wrong at the back of the north
+wind. Neither was anything quite right, he thought. Only everything was
+going to be right some day. His account disagreed with that of Durante,
+and agreed with that of Kilmeny, in this, that he protested there was no
+wind there at all. I fancy he missed it. At all events we could not do
+without wind. It all depends on how big our lungs are whether the wind
+is too strong for us or not.
+
+When the person he told about it asked him whether he saw anybody he
+knew there, he answered, “Only a little girl belonging to the gardener,
+who thought he had lost her, but was quite mistaken, for there she was
+safe enough, and was to come back some day, as I came back, if they
+would only wait.”
+
+“Did you talk to her, Diamond?”
+
+“No. Nobody talks there. They only look at each other, and understand
+everything.”
+
+“Is it cold there?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Is it hot?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“What is it then?”
+
+“You never think about such things there.”
+
+“What a queer place it must be!”
+
+“It's a very good place.”
+
+“Do you want to go back again?”
+
+“No; I don't think I have left it; I feel it here, somewhere.”
+
+“Did the people there look pleased?”
+
+“Yes--quite pleased, only a little sad.”
+
+“Then they didn't look glad?”
+
+“They looked as if they were waiting to be gladder some day.”
+
+This was how Diamond used to answer questions about that country. And
+now I will take up the story again, and tell you how he got back to this
+country.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI. HOW DIAMOND GOT HOME AGAIN
+
+
+WHEN one at the back of the north wind wanted to know how things were
+going with any one he loved, he had to go to a certain tree, climb the
+stem, and sit down in the branches. In a few minutes, if he kept very
+still, he would see something at least of what was going on with the
+people he loved.
+
+One day when Diamond was sitting in this tree, he began to long very
+much to get home again, and no wonder, for he saw his mother crying.
+Durante says that the people there may always follow their wishes,
+because they never wish but what is good. Diamond's wish was to get
+home, and he would fain follow his wish.
+
+But how was he to set about it? If he could only see North Wind! But the
+moment he had got to her back, she was gone altogether from his sight.
+He had never seen her back. She might be sitting on her doorstep still,
+looking southwards, and waiting, white and thin and blue-eyed, until she
+was wanted. Or she might have again become a mighty creature, with
+power to do that which was demanded of her, and gone far away upon many
+missions. She must be somewhere, however. He could not go home without
+her, and therefore he must find her. She could never have intended to
+leave him always away from his mother. If there had been any danger of
+that, she would have told him, and given him his choice about going. For
+North Wind was right honest. How to find North Wind, therefore, occupied
+all his thoughts.
+
+In his anxiety about his mother, he used to climb the tree every day,
+and sit in its branches. However many of the dwellers there did so, they
+never incommoded one another; for the moment one got into the tree, he
+became invisible to every one else; and it was such a wide-spreading
+tree that there was room for every one of the people of the country
+in it, without the least interference with each other. Sometimes, on
+getting down, two of them would meet at the root, and then they would
+smile to each other more sweetly than at any other time, as much as to
+say, “Ah, you've been up there too!”
+
+One day he was sitting on one of the outer branches of the tree, looking
+southwards after his home. Far away was a blue shining sea, dotted with
+gleaming and sparkling specks of white. Those were the icebergs. Nearer
+he saw a great range of snow-capped mountains, and down below him the
+lovely meadow-grass of the country, with the stream flowing and flowing
+through it, away towards the sea. As he looked he began to wonder, for
+the whole country lay beneath him like a map, and that which was near
+him looked just as small as that which he knew to be miles away. The
+ridge of ice which encircled it appeared but a few yards off, and no
+larger than the row of pebbles with which a child will mark out the
+boundaries of the kingdom he has appropriated on the sea-shore. He
+thought he could distinguish the vapoury form of North Wind, seated as
+he had left her, on the other side. Hastily he descended the tree, and
+to his amazement found that the map or model of the country still lay at
+his feet. He stood in it. With one stride he had crossed the river; with
+another he had reached the ridge of ice; with the third he stepped over
+its peaks, and sank wearily down at North Wind's knees. For there she
+sat on her doorstep. The peaks of the great ridge of ice were as lofty
+as ever behind her, and the country at her back had vanished from
+Diamond's view.
+
+North Wind was as still as Diamond had left her. Her pale face was white
+as the snow, and her motionless eyes were as blue as the caverns in the
+ice. But the instant Diamond touched her, her face began to change like
+that of one waking from sleep. Light began to glimmer from the blue of
+her eyes.
+
+A moment more, and she laid her hand on Diamond's head, and began
+playing with his hair. Diamond took hold of her hand, and laid his face
+to it. She gave a little start.
+
+“How very alive you are, child!” she murmured. “Come nearer to me.”
+
+By the help of the stones all around he clambered up beside her, and
+laid himself against her bosom. She gave a great sigh, slowly lifted her
+arms, and slowly folded them about him, until she clasped him close. Yet
+a moment, and she roused herself, and came quite awake; and the cold of
+her bosom, which had pierced Diamond's bones, vanished.
+
+“Have you been sitting here ever since I went through you, dear North
+Wind?” asked Diamond, stroking her hand.
+
+“Yes,” she answered, looking at him with her old kindness.
+
+“Ain't you very tired?”
+
+“No; I've often had to sit longer. Do you know how long you have been?”
+
+“Oh! years and years,” answered Diamond.
+
+“You have just been seven days,” returned North Wind.
+
+“I thought I had been a hundred years!” exclaimed Diamond.
+
+“Yes, I daresay,” replied North Wind. “You've been away from here seven
+days; but how long you may have been in there is quite another thing.
+Behind my back and before my face things are so different! They don't go
+at all by the same rule.”
+
+“I'm very glad,” said Diamond, after thinking a while.
+
+“Why?” asked North Wind.
+
+“Because I've been such a long time there, and such a little while away
+from mother. Why, she won't be expecting me home from Sandwich yet!”
+
+“No. But we mustn't talk any longer. I've got my orders now, and we must
+be off in a few minutes.”
+
+Next moment Diamond found himself sitting alone on the rock. North Wind
+had vanished. A creature like a great humble-bee or cockchafer flew past
+his face; but it could be neither, for there were no insects amongst the
+ice. It passed him again and again, flying in circles around him, and he
+concluded that it must be North Wind herself, no bigger than Tom Thumb
+when his mother put him in the nutshell lined with flannel. But she was
+no longer vapoury and thin. She was solid, although tiny. A moment more,
+and she perched on his shoulder.
+
+“Come along, Diamond,” she said in his ear, in the smallest and highest
+of treble voices; “it is time we were setting out for Sandwich.”
+
+Diamond could just see her, by turning his head towards his shoulder as
+far as he could, but only with one eye, for his nose came between her
+and the other.
+
+“Won't you take me in your arms and carry me?” he said in a whisper, for
+he knew she did not like a loud voice when she was small.
+
+“Ah! you ungrateful boy,” returned North Wind, smiling “how dare you
+make game of me? Yes, I will carry you, but you shall walk a bit for
+your impertinence first. Come along.”
+
+She jumped from his shoulder, but when Diamond looked for her upon the
+ground, he could see nothing but a little spider with long legs that
+made its way over the ice towards the south. It ran very fast indeed for
+a spider, but Diamond ran a long way before it, and then waited for
+it. It was up with him sooner than he had expected, however, and it
+had grown a good deal. And the spider grew and grew and went faster and
+faster, till all at once Diamond discovered that it was not a spider,
+but a weasel; and away glided the weasel, and away went Diamond after
+it, and it took all the run there was in him to keep up with the weasel.
+And the weasel grew, and grew, and grew, till all at once Diamond saw
+that the weasel was not a weasel but a cat. And away went the cat, and
+Diamond after it. And when he had run half a mile, he found the cat
+waiting for him, sitting up and washing her face not to lose time. And
+away went the cat again, and Diamond after it. But the next time he came
+up with the cat, the cat was not a cat, but a hunting-leopard. And the
+hunting-leopard grew to a jaguar, all covered with spots like eyes.
+And the jaguar grew to a Bengal tiger. And at none of them was Diamond
+afraid, for he had been at North Wind's back, and he could be afraid of
+her no longer whatever she did or grew. And the tiger flew over the snow
+in a straight line for the south, growing less and less to Diamond's
+eyes till it was only a black speck upon the whiteness; and then it
+vanished altogether. And now Diamond felt that he would rather not run
+any farther, and that the ice had got very rough. Besides, he was near
+the precipices that bounded the sea, so he slackened his pace to a walk,
+saying aloud to himself:
+
+“When North Wind has punished me enough for making game of her, she will
+come back to me; I know she will, for I can't go much farther without
+her.”
+
+“You dear boy! It was only in fun. Here I am!” said North Wind's voice
+behind him.
+
+Diamond turned, and saw her as he liked best to see her, standing beside
+him, a tall lady.
+
+“Where's the tiger?” he asked, for he knew all the creatures from a
+picture book that Miss Coleman had given him. “But, of course,” he
+added, “you were the tiger. I was puzzled and forgot. I saw it such a
+long way off before me, and there you were behind me. It's so odd, you
+know.”
+
+“It must look very odd to you, Diamond: I see that. But it is no more
+odd to me than to break an old pine in two.”
+
+“Well, that's odd enough,” remarked Diamond.
+
+“So it is! I forgot. Well, none of these things are odder to me than it
+is to you to eat bread and butter.”
+
+“Well, that's odd too, when I think of it,” persisted Diamond. “I should
+just like a slice of bread and butter! I'm afraid to say how long it
+is--how long it seems to me, that is--since I had anything to eat.”
+
+“Come then,” said North Wind, stooping and holding out her arms. “You
+shall have some bread and butter very soon. I am glad to find you want
+some.”
+
+Diamond held up his arms to meet hers, and was safe upon her bosom.
+North Wind bounded into the air. Her tresses began to lift and rise and
+spread and stream and flow and flutter; and with a roar from her hair
+and an answering roar from one of the great glaciers beside them, whose
+slow torrent tumbled two or three icebergs at once into the waves at
+their feet, North Wind and Diamond went flying southwards.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII. WHO MET DIAMOND AT SANDWICH
+
+
+As THEY flew, so fast they went that the sea slid away from under them
+like a great web of shot silk, blue shot with grey, and green shot with
+purple. They went so fast that the stars themselves appeared to sail
+away past them overhead, “like golden boats,” on a blue sea turned
+upside down. And they went so fast that Diamond himself went the other
+way as fast--I mean he went fast asleep in North Wind's arms.
+
+When he woke, a face was bending over him; but it was not North Wind's;
+it was his mother's. He put out his arms to her, and she clasped him to
+her bosom and burst out crying. Diamond kissed her again and again to
+make her stop. Perhaps kissing is the best thing for crying, but it will
+not always stop it.
+
+“What is the matter, mother?” he said.
+
+“Oh, Diamond, my darling! you have been so ill!” she sobbed.
+
+“No, mother dear. I've only been at the back of the north wind,”
+ returned Diamond.
+
+“I thought you were dead,” said his mother.
+
+But that moment the doctor came in.
+
+“Oh! there!” said the doctor with gentle cheerfulness; “we're better
+to-day, I see.”
+
+Then he drew the mother aside, and told her not to talk to Diamond, or
+to mind what he might say; for he must be kept as quiet as possible. And
+indeed Diamond was not much inclined to talk, for he felt very strange
+and weak, which was little wonder, seeing that all the time he had been
+away he had only sucked a few lumps of ice, and there could not be much
+nourishment in them.
+
+Now while he is lying there, getting strong again with chicken broth and
+other nice things, I will tell my readers what had been taking place at
+his home, for they ought to be told it.
+
+They may have forgotten that Miss Coleman was in a very poor state of
+health. Now there were three reasons for this. In the first place,
+her lungs were not strong. In the second place, there was a gentleman
+somewhere who had not behaved very well to her. In the third place, she
+had not anything particular to do. These three nots together are enough
+to make a lady very ill indeed. Of course she could not help the first
+cause; but if the other two causes had not existed, that would have been
+of little consequence; she would only have to be a little careful. The
+second she could not help quite; but if she had had anything to do,
+and had done it well, it would have been very difficult for any man to
+behave badly to her. And for this third cause of her illness, if she had
+had anything to do that was worth doing, she might have borne his bad
+behaviour so that even that would not have made her ill. It is not
+always easy, I confess, to find something to do that is worth doing, but
+the most difficult things are constantly being done, and she might have
+found something if she had tried. Her fault lay in this, that she had
+not tried. But, to be sure, her father and mother were to blame that
+they had never set her going. Only then again, nobody had told her
+father and mother that they ought to set her going in that direction. So
+as none of them would find it out of themselves, North Wind had to teach
+them.
+
+We know that North Wind was very busy that night on which she left
+Diamond in the cathedral. She had in a sense been blowing through
+and through the Colemans' house the whole of the night. First, Miss
+Coleman's maid had left a chink of her mistress's window open, thinking
+she had shut it, and North Wind had wound a few of her hairs round the
+lady's throat. She was considerably worse the next morning. Again, the
+ship which North Wind had sunk that very night belonged to Mr. Coleman.
+Nor will my readers understand what a heavy loss this was to him until
+I have informed them that he had been getting poorer and poorer for some
+time. He was not so successful in his speculations as he had been,
+for he speculated a great deal more than was right, and it was time he
+should be pulled up. It is a hard thing for a rich man to grow poor;
+but it is an awful thing for him to grow dishonest, and some kinds of
+speculation lead a man deep into dishonesty before he thinks what he is
+about. Poverty will not make a man worthless--he may be worth a great
+deal more when he is poor than he was when he was rich; but dishonesty
+goes very far indeed to make a man of no value--a thing to be thrown
+out in the dust-hole of the creation, like a bit of a broken basin, or a
+dirty rag. So North Wind had to look after Mr. Coleman, and try to make
+an honest man of him. So she sank the ship which was his last venture,
+and he was what himself and his wife and the world called ruined.
+
+Nor was this all yet. For on board that vessel Miss Coleman's lover was
+a passenger; and when the news came that the vessel had gone down, and
+that all on board had perished, we may be sure she did not think
+the loss of their fine house and garden and furniture the greatest
+misfortune in the world.
+
+Of course, the trouble did not end with Mr. Coleman and his family.
+Nobody can suffer alone. When the cause of suffering is most deeply
+hidden in the heart, and nobody knows anything about it but the man
+himself, he must be a great and a good man indeed, such as few of us
+have known, if the pain inside him does not make him behave so as to
+cause all about him to be more or less uncomfortable. But when a man
+brings money-troubles on himself by making haste to be rich, then
+most of the people he has to do with must suffer in the same way with
+himself. The elm-tree which North Wind blew down that very night, as
+if small and great trials were to be gathered in one heap, crushed Miss
+Coleman's pretty summer-house: just so the fall of Mr. Coleman crushed
+the little family that lived over his coach-house and stable. Before
+Diamond was well enough to be taken home, there was no home for him
+to go to. Mr. Coleman--or his creditors, for I do not know the
+particulars--had sold house, carriage, horses, furniture, and
+everything. He and his wife and daughter and Mrs. Crump had gone to live
+in a small house in Hoxton, where he would be unknown, and whence he
+could walk to his place of business in the City. For he was not an old
+man, and hoped yet to retrieve his fortunes. Let us hope that he lived
+to retrieve his honesty, the tail of which had slipped through his
+fingers to the very last joint, if not beyond it.
+
+Of course, Diamond's father had nothing to do for a time, but it was
+not so hard for him to have nothing to do as it was for Miss Coleman. He
+wrote to his wife that, if her sister would keep her there till he got
+a place, it would be better for them, and he would be greatly obliged
+to her. Meantime, the gentleman who had bought the house had allowed his
+furniture to remain where it was for a little while.
+
+Diamond's aunt was quite willing to keep them as long as she could. And
+indeed Diamond was not yet well enough to be moved with safety.
+
+When he had recovered so far as to be able to go out, one day his mother
+got her sister's husband, who had a little pony-cart, to carry them
+down to the sea-shore, and leave them there for a few hours. He had
+some business to do further on at Ramsgate, and would pick them up as he
+returned. A whiff of the sea-air would do them both good, she said, and
+she thought besides she could best tell Diamond what had happened if she
+had him quite to herself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII. THE SEASIDE
+
+
+DIAMOND and his mother sat down upon the edge of the rough grass that
+bordered the sand. The sun was just far enough past its highest not to
+shine in their eyes when they looked eastward. A sweet little wind blew
+on their left side, and comforted the mother without letting her know
+what it was that comforted her. Away before them stretched the sparkling
+waters of the ocean, every wave of which flashed out its own delight
+back in the face of the great sun, which looked down from the stillness
+of its blue house with glorious silent face upon its flashing children.
+On each hand the shore rounded outwards, forming a little bay. There
+were no white cliffs here, as further north and south, and the place was
+rather dreary, but the sky got at them so much the better. Not a house,
+not a creature was within sight. Dry sand was about their feet, and
+under them thin wiry grass, that just managed to grow out of the
+poverty-stricken shore.
+
+“Oh dear!” said Diamond's mother, with a deep sigh, “it's a sad world!”
+
+“Is it?” said Diamond. “I didn't know.”
+
+“How should you know, child? You've been too well taken care of, I
+trust.”
+
+“Oh yes, I have,” returned Diamond. “I'm sorry! I thought you were taken
+care of too. I thought my father took care of you. I will ask him about
+it. I think he must have forgotten.”
+
+“Dear boy!” said his mother, “your father's the best man in the world.”
+
+“So I thought!” returned Diamond with triumph. “I was sure of it!--Well,
+doesn't he take very good care of you?”
+
+“Yes, yes, he does,” answered his mother, bursting into tears. “But
+who's to take care of him? And how is he to take care of us if he's got
+nothing to eat himself?”
+
+“Oh dear!” said Diamond with a gasp; “hasn't he got anything to eat? Oh!
+I must go home to him.”
+
+“No, no, child. He's not come to that yet. But what's to become of us, I
+don't know.”
+
+“Are you very hungry, mother? There's the basket. I thought you put
+something to eat in it.”
+
+“O you darling stupid! I didn't say I was hungry,” returned his mother,
+smiling through her tears.
+
+“Then I don't understand you at all,” said Diamond. “Do tell me what's
+the matter.”
+
+“There are people in the world who have nothing to eat, Diamond.”
+
+“Then I suppose they don't stop in it any longer. They--they--what you
+call--die--don't they?”
+
+“Yes, they do. How would you like that?”
+
+“I don't know. I never tried. But I suppose they go where they get
+something to eat.”
+
+“Like enough they don't want it,” said his mother, petulantly.
+
+“That's all right then,” said Diamond, thinking I daresay more than he
+chose to put in words.
+
+“Is it though? Poor boy! how little you know about things! Mr. Coleman's
+lost all his money, and your father has nothing to do, and we shall have
+nothing to eat by and by.”
+
+“Are you sure, mother?”
+
+“Sure of what?”
+
+“Sure that we shall have nothing to eat.”
+
+“No, thank Heaven! I'm not sure of it. I hope not.”
+
+“Then I can't understand it, mother. There's a piece of gingerbread in
+the basket, I know.”
+
+“O you little bird! You have no more sense than a sparrow that picks
+what it wants, and never thinks of the winter and the frost and, the
+snow.”
+
+“Ah--yes--I see. But the birds get through the winter, don't they?”
+
+“Some of them fall dead on the ground.”
+
+“They must die some time. They wouldn't like to be birds always. Would
+you, mother?”
+
+“What a child it is!” thought his mother, but she said nothing.
+
+“Oh! now I remember,” Diamond went on. “Father told me that day I went
+to Epping Forest with him, that the rose-bushes, and the may-bushes, and
+the holly-bushes were the bird's barns, for there were the hips, and the
+haws, and the holly-berries, all ready for the winter.”
+
+“Yes; that's all very true. So you see the birds are provided for. But
+there are no such barns for you and me, Diamond.”
+
+“Ain't there?”
+
+“No. We've got to work for our bread.”
+
+“Then let's go and work,” said Diamond, getting up.
+
+“It's no use. We've not got anything to do.”
+
+“Then let's wait.”
+
+“Then we shall starve.”
+
+“No. There's the basket. Do you know, mother, I think I shall call that
+basket the barn.”
+
+“It's not a very big one. And when it's empty--where are we then?”
+
+“At auntie's cupboard,” returned Diamond promptly.
+
+“But we can't eat auntie's things all up and leave her to starve.”
+
+“No, no. We'll go back to father before that. He'll have found a
+cupboard somewhere by that time.”
+
+“How do you know that?”
+
+“I don't know it. But I haven't got even a cupboard, and I've always had
+plenty to eat. I've heard you say I had too much, sometimes.”
+
+“But I tell you that's because I've had a cupboard for you, child.”
+
+“And when yours was empty, auntie opened hers.”
+
+“But that can't go on.”
+
+“How do you know? I think there must be a big cupboard somewhere, out of
+which the little cupboards are filled, you know, mother.”
+
+“Well, I wish I could find the door of that cupboard,” said his mother.
+But the same moment she stopped, and was silent for a good while. I
+cannot tell whether Diamond knew what she was thinking, but I think I
+know. She had heard something at church the day before, which came back
+upon her--something like this, that she hadn't to eat for tomorrow as
+well as for to-day; and that what was not wanted couldn't be missed.
+So, instead of saying anything more, she stretched out her hand for the
+basket, and she and Diamond had their dinner.
+
+And Diamond did enjoy it. For the drive and the fresh air had made him
+quite hungry; and he did not, like his mother, trouble himself about
+what they should dine off that day week. The fact was he had lived so
+long without any food at all at the back of the north wind, that he knew
+quite well that food was not essential to existence; that in fact, under
+certain circumstances, people could live without it well enough.
+
+His mother did not speak much during their dinner. After it was over she
+helped him to walk about a little, but he was not able for much and soon
+got tired. He did not get fretful, though. He was too glad of having the
+sun and the wind again, to fret because he could not run about. He lay
+down on the dry sand, and his mother covered him with a shawl. She then
+sat by his side, and took a bit of work from her pocket. But Diamond
+felt rather sleepy, and turned on his side and gazed sleepily over the
+sand. A few yards off he saw something fluttering.
+
+“What is that, mother?” he said.
+
+“Only a bit of paper,” she answered.
+
+“It flutters more than a bit of paper would, I think,” said Diamond.
+
+“I'll go and see if you like,” said his mother. “My eyes are none of the
+best.”
+
+So she rose and went and found that they were both right, for it was a
+little book, partly buried in the sand. But several of its leaves were
+clear of the sand, and these the wind kept blowing about in a very
+flutterful manner. She took it up and brought it to Diamond.
+
+“What is it, mother?” he asked.
+
+“Some nursery rhymes, I think,” she answered.
+
+“I'm too sleepy,” said Diamond. “Do read some of them to me.”
+
+“Yes, I will,” she said, and began one.--“But this is such nonsense!”
+ she said again. “I will try to find a better one.”
+
+She turned the leaves searching, but three times, with sudden puffs, the
+wind blew the leaves rustling back to the same verses.
+
+“Do read that one,” said Diamond, who seemed to be of the same mind as
+the wind. “It sounded very nice. I am sure it is a good one.”
+
+So his mother thought it might amuse him, though she couldn't find any
+sense in it. She never thought he might understand it, although she
+could not.
+
+Now I do not exactly know what the mother read, but this is what Diamond
+heard, or thought afterwards that he had heard. He was, however, as I
+have said, very sleepy. And when he thought he understood the verses he
+may have been only dreaming better ones. This is how they went--
+
+I know a river whose waters run asleep run run ever singing in the
+shallows dumb in the hollows sleeping so deep and all the swallows that
+dip their feathers in the hollows or in the shallows are the merriest
+swallows of all for the nests they bake with the clay they cake with
+the water they shake from their wings that rake the water out of the
+shallows or the hollows will hold together in any weather and so the
+swallows are the merriest fellows and have the merriest children and
+are built so narrow like the head of an arrow to cut the air and go just
+where the nicest water is flowing and the nicest dust is blowing for
+each so narrow like head of an arrow is only a barrow to carry the
+mud he makes from the nicest water flowing and the nicest dust that is
+blowing to build his nest for her he loves best with the nicest cakes
+which the sunshine bakes all for their merry children all so callow with
+beaks that follow gaping and hollow wider and wider after their father
+or after their mother the food-provider who brings them a spider or a
+worm the poor hider down in the earth so there's no dearth for their
+beaks as yellow as the buttercups growing beside the flowing of the
+singing river always and ever growing and blowing for fast as the sheep
+awake or asleep crop them and crop them they cannot stop them but up
+they creep and on they go blowing and so with the daisies the little
+white praises they grow and they blow and they spread out their crown
+and they praise the sun and when he goes down their praising is done and
+they fold up their crown and they sleep every one till over the plain
+he's shining amain and they're at it again praising and praising such
+low songs raising that no one hears them but the sun who rears them and
+the sheep that bite them are the quietest sheep awake or asleep with the
+merriest bleat and the little lambs are the merriest lambs they forget
+to eat for the frolic in their feet and the lambs and their dams are
+the whitest sheep with the woolliest wool and the longest wool and the
+trailingest tails and they shine like snow in the grasses that grow by
+the singing river that sings for ever and the sheep and the lambs are
+merry for ever because the river sings and they drink it and the lambs
+and their dams are quiet and white because of their diet for what they
+bite is buttercups yellow and daisies white and grass as green as the
+river can make it with wind as mellow to kiss it and shake it as never
+was seen but here in the hollows beside the river where all the swallows
+are merriest of fellows for the nests they make with the clay they cake
+in the sunshine bake till they are like bone as dry in the wind as a
+marble stone so firm they bind the grass in the clay that dries in the
+wind the sweetest wind that blows by the river flowing for ever but
+never you find whence comes the wind that blows on the hollows and over
+the shallows where dip the swallows alive it blows the life as it goes
+awake or asleep into the river that sings as it flows and the life it
+blows into the sheep awake or asleep with the woolliest wool and the
+trailingest tails and it never fails gentle and cool to wave the wool
+and to toss the grass as the lambs and the sheep over it pass and tug
+and bite with their teeth so white and then with the sweep of their
+trailing tails smooth it again and it grows amain and amain it grows and
+the wind as it blows tosses the swallows over the hollows and down on
+the shallows till every feather doth shake and quiver and all their
+feathers go all together blowing the life and the joy so rife into the
+swallows that skim the shallows and have the yellowest children for the
+wind that blows is the life of the river flowing for ever that washes
+the grasses still as it passes and feeds the daisies the little white
+praises and buttercups bonny so golden and sunny with butter and honey
+that whiten the sheep awake or asleep that nibble and bite and grow
+whiter than white and merry and quiet on the sweet diet fed by the river
+and tossed for ever by the wind that tosses the swallow that crosses
+over the shallows dipping his wings to gather the water and bake the
+cake that the wind shall make as hard as a bone as dry as a stone it's
+all in the wind that blows from behind and all in the river that flows
+for ever and all in the grasses and the white daisies and the merry
+sheep awake or asleep and the happy swallows skimming the shallows and
+it's all in the wind that blows from behind.
+
+
+Here Diamond became aware that his mother had stopped reading.
+
+“Why don't you go on, mother dear?” he asked.
+
+“It's such nonsense!” said his mother. “I believe it would go on for
+ever.”
+
+“That's just what it did,” said Diamond.
+
+“What did?” she asked.
+
+“Why, the river. That's almost the very tune it used to sing.”
+
+His mother was frightened, for she thought the fever was coming on
+again. So she did not contradict him.
+
+“Who made that poem?” asked Diamond.
+
+“I don't know,” she answered. “Some silly woman for her children, I
+suppose--and then thought it good enough to print.”
+
+“She must have been at the back of the north wind some time or other,
+anyhow,” said Diamond. “She couldn't have got a hold of it anywhere
+else. That's just how it went.” And he began to chant bits of it here
+and there; but his mother said nothing for fear of making him, worse;
+and she was very glad indeed when she saw her brother-in-law jogging
+along in his little cart. They lifted Diamond in, and got up themselves,
+and away they went, “home again, home again, home again,” as Diamond
+sang. But he soon grew quiet, and before they reached Sandwich he was
+fast asleep and dreaming of the country at the back of the north wind.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV. OLD DIAMOND
+
+
+AFTER this Diamond recovered so fast, that in a few days he was quite
+able to go home as soon as his father had a place for them to go. Now
+his father having saved a little money, and finding that no situation
+offered itself, had been thinking over a new plan. A strange occurrence
+it was which turned his thoughts in that direction. He had a friend in
+the Bloomsbury region, who lived by letting out cabs and horses to the
+cabmen. This man, happening to meet him one day as he was returning from
+an unsuccessful application, said to him:
+
+“Why don't you set up for yourself now--in the cab line, I mean?”
+
+“I haven't enough for that,” answered Diamond's father.
+
+“You must have saved a goodish bit, I should think. Just come home with
+me now and look at a horse I can let you have cheap. I bought him only a
+few weeks ago, thinking he'd do for a Hansom, but I was wrong. He's got
+bone enough for a waggon, but a waggon ain't a Hansom. He ain't got go
+enough for a Hansom. You see parties as takes Hansoms wants to go like
+the wind, and he ain't got wind enough, for he ain't so young as he once
+was. But for a four-wheeler as takes families and their luggages, he's
+the very horse. He'd carry a small house any day. I bought him cheap,
+and I'll sell him cheap.”
+
+“Oh, I don't want him,” said Diamond's father. “A body must have time
+to think over an affair of so much importance. And there's the cab too.
+That would come to a deal of money.”
+
+“I could fit you there, I daresay,” said his friend. “But come and look
+at the animal, anyhow.”
+
+“Since I lost my own old pair, as was Mr. Coleman's,” said Diamond's
+father, turning to accompany the cab-master, “I ain't almost got the
+heart to look a horse in the face. It's a thousand pities to part man
+and horse.”
+
+“So it is,” returned his friend sympathetically.
+
+But what was the ex-coachman's delight, when, on going into the stable
+where his friend led him, he found the horse he wanted him to buy was
+no other than his own old Diamond, grown very thin and bony and
+long-legged, as if they, had been doing what they could to fit him for
+Hansom work!
+
+“He ain't a Hansom horse,” said Diamond's father indignantly.
+
+“Well, you're right. He ain't handsome, but he's a good un” said his
+owner.
+
+“Who says he ain't handsome? He's one of the handsomest horses a
+gentleman's coachman ever druv,” said Diamond's father; remarking to
+himself under his breath--“though I says it as shouldn't”--for he did
+not feel inclined all at once to confess that his own old horse could
+have sunk so low.
+
+“Well,” said his friend, “all I say is--There's a animal for you, as
+strong as a church; an'll go like a train, leastways a parly,” he added,
+correcting himself.
+
+But the coachman had a lump in his throat and tears in his eyes. For the
+old horse, hearing his voice, had turned his long neck, and when his
+old friend went up to him and laid his hand on his side, he whinnied
+for joy, and laid his big head on his master's breast. This settled the
+matter. The coachman's arms were round the horse's neck in a moment, and
+he fairly broke down and cried. The cab-master had never been so fond of
+a horse himself as to hug him like that, but he saw in a moment how it
+was. And he must have been a good-hearted fellow, for I never heard of
+such an idea coming into the head of any other man with a horse to sell:
+instead of putting something on to the price because he was now pretty
+sure of selling him, he actually took a pound off what he had meant to
+ask for him, saying to himself it was a shame to part old friends.
+
+Diamond's father, as soon as he came to himself, turned and asked how
+much he wanted for the horse.
+
+“I see you're old friends,” said the owner.
+
+“It's my own old Diamond. I liked him far the best of the pair, though
+the other was good. You ain't got him too, have you?”
+
+“No; nothing in the stable to match him there.”
+
+“I believe you,” said the coachman. “But you'll be wanting a long price
+for him, I know.”
+
+“No, not so much. I bought him cheap, and as I say, he ain't for my
+work.”
+
+The end of it was that Diamond's father bought old Diamond again, along
+with a four-wheeled cab. And as there were some rooms to be had over the
+stable, he took them, wrote to his wife to come home, and set up as a
+cabman.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV. THE MEWS
+
+
+IT WAS late in the afternoon when Diamond and his mother and the baby
+reached London. I was so full of Diamond that I forgot to tell you a
+baby had arrived in the meantime. His father was waiting for them with
+his own cab, but they had not told Diamond who the horse was; for his
+father wanted to enjoy the pleasure of his surprise when he found it
+out. He got in with his mother without looking at the horse, and his
+father having put up Diamond's carpet-bag and his mother's little trunk,
+got upon the box himself and drove off; and Diamond was quite proud of
+riding home in his father's own carriage. But when he got to the mews,
+he could not help being a little dismayed at first; and if he had never
+been to the back of the north wind, I am afraid he would have cried a
+little. But instead of that, he said to himself it was a fine thing all
+the old furniture was there. And instead of helping his mother to be
+miserable at the change, he began to find out all the advantages of the
+place; for every place has some advantages, and they are always
+better worth knowing than the disadvantages. Certainly the weather was
+depressing, for a thick, dull, persistent rain was falling by the time
+they reached home. But happily the weather is very changeable; and
+besides, there was a good fire burning in the room, which their
+neighbour with the drunken husband had attended to for them; and the
+tea-things were put out, and the kettle was boiling on the fire. And
+with a good fire, and tea and bread and butter, things cannot be said to
+be miserable.
+
+Diamond's father and mother were, notwithstanding, rather miserable, and
+Diamond began to feel a kind of darkness beginning to spread over his
+own mind. But the same moment he said to himself, “This will never do.
+I can't give in to this. I've been to the back of the north wind. Things
+go right there, and so I must try to get things to go right here. I've
+got to fight the miserable things. They shan't make me miserable if I
+can help it.” I do not mean that he thought these very words. They are
+perhaps too grown-up for him to have thought, but they represent the
+kind of thing that was in his heart and his head. And when heart and
+head go together, nothing can stand before them.
+
+“What nice bread and butter this is!” said Diamond.
+
+“I'm glad you like it, my dear” said his father. “I bought the butter
+myself at the little shop round the corner.”
+
+“It's very nice, thank you, father. Oh, there's baby waking! I'll take
+him.”
+
+“Sit still, Diamond,” said his mother. “Go on with your bread and
+butter. You're not strong enough to lift him yet.”
+
+So she took the baby herself, and set him on her knee. Then Diamond
+began to amuse him, and went on till the little fellow was shrieking
+with laughter. For the baby's world was his mother's arms; and the
+drizzling rain, and the dreary mews, and even his father's troubled
+face could not touch him. What cared baby for the loss of a hundred
+situations? Yet neither father nor mother thought him hard-hearted
+because he crowed and laughed in the middle of their troubles. On the
+contrary, his crowing and laughing were infectious. His little heart was
+so full of merriment that it could not hold it all, and it ran over into
+theirs. Father and mother began to laugh too, and Diamond laughed till
+he had a fit of coughing which frightened his mother, and made them all
+stop. His father took the baby, and his mother put him to bed.
+
+But it was indeed a change to them all, not only from Sandwich, but from
+their old place, instead of the great river where the huge barges with
+their mighty brown and yellow sails went tacking from side to side like
+little pleasure-skiffs, and where the long thin boats shot past with
+eight and sometimes twelve rowers, their windows now looked out upon a
+dirty paved yard. And there was no garden more for Diamond to run into
+when he pleased, with gay flowers about his feet, and solemn sun-filled
+trees over his head. Neither was there a wooden wall at the back of
+his bed with a hole in it for North Wind to come in at when she liked.
+Indeed, there was such a high wall, and there were so many houses about
+the mews, that North Wind seldom got into the place at all, except when
+something must be done, and she had a grand cleaning out like other
+housewives; while the partition at the head of Diamond's new bed only
+divided it from the room occupied by a cabman who drank too much beer,
+and came home chiefly to quarrel with his wife and pinch his children.
+It was dreadful to Diamond to hear the scolding and the crying. But it
+could not make him miserable, because he had been at the back of the
+north wind.
+
+If my reader find it hard to believe that Diamond should be so good,
+he must remember that he had been to the back of the north wind. If he
+never knew a boy so good, did he ever know a boy that had been to the
+back of the north wind? It was not in the least strange of Diamond to
+behave as he did; on the contrary, it was thoroughly sensible of him.
+
+We shall see how he got on.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI. DIAMOND MAKES A BEGINNING
+
+
+THE wind blew loud, but Diamond slept a deep sleep, and never heard
+it. My own impression is that every time when Diamond slept well and
+remembered nothing about it in the morning, he had been all that night
+at the back of the north wind. I am almost sure that was how he woke
+so refreshed, and felt so quiet and hopeful all the day. Indeed he said
+this much, though not to me--that always when he woke from such a sleep
+there was a something in his mind, he could not tell what--could not
+tell whether it was the last far-off sounds of the river dying away in
+the distance, or some of the words of the endless song his mother had
+read to him on the sea-shore. Sometimes he thought it must have been
+the twittering of the swallows--over the shallows, you, know; but it may
+have been the chirping of the dingy sparrows picking up their breakfast
+in the yard--how can I tell? I don't know what I know, I only know what
+I think; and to tell the truth, I am more for the swallows than the
+sparrows. When he knew he was coming awake, he would sometimes try hard
+to keep hold of the words of what seemed a new song, one he had not
+heard before--a song in which the words and the music somehow appeared
+to be all one; but even when he thought he had got them well fixed in
+his mind, ever as he came awaker--as he would say--one line faded away
+out of it, and then another, and then another, till at last there was
+nothing left but some lovely picture of water or grass or daisies, or
+something else very common, but with all the commonness polished off it,
+and the lovely soul of it, which people so seldom see, and, alas! yet
+seldomer believe in, shining out. But after that he would sing the
+oddest, loveliest little songs to the baby--of his own making, his
+mother said; but Diamond said he did not make them; they were made
+somewhere inside him, and he knew nothing about them till they were
+coming out.
+
+When he woke that first morning he got up at once, saying to himself,
+“I've been ill long enough, and have given a great deal of trouble; I
+must try and be of use now, and help my mother.” When he went into her
+room he found her lighting the fire, and his father just getting out of
+bed. They had only the one room, besides the little one, not much more
+than a closet, in which Diamond slept. He began at once to set things
+to rights, but the baby waking up, he took him, and nursed him till
+his mother had got the breakfast ready. She was looking gloomy, and his
+father was silent; and indeed except Diamond had done all he possibly
+could to keep out the misery that was trying to get in at doors and
+windows, he too would have grown miserable, and then they would have
+been all miserable together. But to try to make others comfortable is
+the only way to get right comfortable ourselves, and that comes partly
+of not being able to think so much about ourselves when we are helping
+other people. For our Selves will always do pretty well if we don't pay
+them too much attention. Our Selves are like some little children who
+will be happy enough so long as they are left to their own games, but
+when we begin to interfere with them, and make them presents of too nice
+playthings, or too many sweet things, they begin at once to fret and
+spoil.
+
+“Why, Diamond, child!” said his mother at last, “you're as good to your
+mother as if you were a girl--nursing the baby, and toasting the bread,
+and sweeping up the hearth! I declare a body would think you had been
+among the fairies.”
+
+Could Diamond have had greater praise or greater pleasure? You see
+when he forgot his Self his mother took care of his Self, and loved and
+praised his Self. Our own praises poison our Selves, and puff and swell
+them up, till they lose all shape and beauty, and become like great
+toadstools. But the praises of father or mother do our Selves good, and
+comfort them and make them beautiful. They never do them any harm. If
+they do any harm, it comes of our mixing some of our own praises with
+them, and that turns them nasty and slimy and poisonous.
+
+When his father had finished his breakfast, which he did rather in a
+hurry, he got up and went down into the yard to get out his horse and
+put him to the cab.
+
+“Won't you come and see the cab, Diamond?” he said.
+
+“Yes, please, father--if mother can spare me a minute,” answered
+Diamond.
+
+“Bless the child! I don't want him,” said his mother cheerfully.
+
+But as he was following his father out of the door, she called him back.
+
+“Diamond, just hold the baby one minute. I have something to say to your
+father.”
+
+So Diamond sat down again, took the baby in his lap, and began poking
+his face into its little body, laughing and singing all the while,
+so that the baby crowed like a little bantam. And what he sang was
+something like this--such nonsense to those that couldn't understand it!
+but not to the baby, who got all the good in the world out of it:--
+baby's a-sleeping wake up baby for all the swallows are the merriest
+fellows and have the yellowest children who would go sleeping and
+snore like a gaby disturbing his mother and father and brother and all
+a-boring their ears with his snoring snoring snoring for himself and no
+other for himself in particular wake up baby sit up perpendicular hark
+to the gushing hark to the rushing where the sheep are the woolliest and
+the lambs the unruliest and their tails the whitest and their eyes the
+brightest and baby's the bonniest and baby's the funniest and baby's the
+shiniest and baby's the tiniest and baby's the merriest and baby's
+the worriest of all the lambs that plague their dams and mother's
+the whitest of all the dams that feed the lambs that go crop-cropping
+without stop-stopping and father's the best of all the swallows that
+build their nest out of the shining shallows and he has the merriest
+children that's baby and Diamond and Diamond and baby and baby and
+Diamond and Diamond and baby--
+
+
+Here Diamond's knees went off in a wild dance which tossed the baby
+about and shook the laughter out of him in immoderate peals. His mother
+had been listening at the door to the last few lines of his song, and
+came in with the tears in her eyes. She took the baby from him, gave him
+a kiss, and told him to run to his father.
+
+By the time Diamond got into the yard, the horse was between the shafts,
+and his father was looping the traces on. Diamond went round to look at
+the horse. The sight of him made him feel very queer. He did not know
+much about different horses, and all other horses than their own were
+very much the same to him. But he could not make it out. This was
+Diamond and it wasn't Diamond. Diamond didn't hang his head like that;
+yet the head that was hanging was very like the one that Diamond used
+to hold so high. Diamond's bones didn't show through his skin like that;
+but the skin they pushed out of shape so was very like Diamond's skin;
+and the bones might be Diamond's bones, for he had never seen the shape
+of them. But when he came round in front of the old horse, and he put
+out his long neck, and began sniffing at him and rubbing his upper lip
+and his nose on him, then Diamond saw it could be no other than old
+Diamond, and he did just as his father had done before--put his arms
+round his neck and cried--but not much.
+
+“Ain't it jolly, father?” he said. “Was there ever anybody so lucky as
+me? Dear old Diamond!”
+
+And he hugged the horse again, and kissed both his big hairy cheeks. He
+could only manage one at a time, however--the other cheek was so far off
+on the other side of his big head.
+
+His father mounted the box with just the same air, as Diamond thought,
+with which he had used to get upon the coach-box, and Diamond said
+to himself, “Father's as grand as ever anyhow.” He had kept his brown
+livery-coat, only his wife had taken the silver buttons off and put
+brass ones instead, because they did not think it polite to Mr. Coleman
+in his fallen fortunes to let his crest be seen upon the box of a cab.
+Old Diamond had kept just his collar; and that had the silver crest upon
+it still, for his master thought nobody would notice that, and so let it
+remain for a memorial of the better days of which it reminded him--not
+unpleasantly, seeing it had been by no fault either of his or of the old
+horse's that they had come down in the world together.
+
+“Oh, father, do let me drive a bit,” said Diamond, jumping up on the box
+beside him.
+
+His father changed places with him at once, putting the reins into his
+hands. Diamond gathered them up eagerly.
+
+“Don't pull at his mouth,” said his father, “just feel, at it gently
+to let him know you're there and attending to him. That's what I call
+talking to him through the reins.”
+
+“Yes, father, I understand,” said Diamond. Then to the horse he said,
+“Go on Diamond.” And old Diamond's ponderous bulk began at once to move
+to the voice of the little boy.
+
+But before they had reached the entrance of the mews, another voice
+called after young Diamond, which, in his turn, he had to obey, for it
+was that of his mother. “Diamond! Diamond!” it cried; and Diamond pulled
+the reins, and the horse stood still as a stone.
+
+“Husband,” said his mother, coming up, “you're never going to trust him
+with the reins--a baby like that?”
+
+“He must learn some day, and he can't begin too soon. I see already he's
+a born coachman,” said his father proudly. “And I don't see well how
+he could escape it, for my father and my grandfather, that's his
+great-grandfather, was all coachmen, I'm told; so it must come natural
+to him, any one would think. Besides, you see, old Diamond's as proud of
+him as we are our own selves, wife. Don't you see how he's turning round
+his ears, with the mouths of them open, for the first word he speaks to
+tumble in? He's too well bred to turn his head, you know.”
+
+“Well, but, husband, I can't do without him to-day. Everything's got to
+be done, you know. It's my first day here. And there's that baby!”
+
+“Bless you, wife! I never meant to take him away--only to the bottom of
+Endell Street. He can watch his way back.”
+
+“No thank you, father; not to-day,” said Diamond. “Mother wants me.
+Perhaps she'll let me go another day.”
+
+“Very well, my man,” said his father, and took the reins which Diamond
+was holding out to him.
+
+Diamond got down, a little disappointed of course, and went with his
+mother, who was too pleased to speak. She only took hold of his hand as
+tight as if she had been afraid of his running away instead of glad that
+he would not leave her.
+
+Now, although they did not know it, the owner of the stables, the same
+man who had sold the horse to his father, had been standing just inside
+one of the stable-doors, with his hands in his pockets, and had heard
+and seen all that passed; and from that day John Stonecrop took a great
+fancy to the little boy. And this was the beginning of what came of it.
+
+The same evening, just as Diamond was feeling tired of the day's work,
+and wishing his father would come home, Mr. Stonecrop knocked at the
+door. His mother went and opened it.
+
+“Good evening, ma'am,” said he. “Is the little master in?”
+
+“Yes, to be sure he is--at your service, I'm sure, Mr. Stonecrop,” said
+his mother.
+
+“No, no, ma'am; it's I'm at his service. I'm just a-going out with my
+own cab, and if he likes to come with me, he shall drive my old horse
+till he's tired.”
+
+“It's getting rather late for him,” said his mother thoughtfully. “You
+see he's been an invalid.”
+
+Diamond thought, what a funny thing! How could he have been an invalid
+when he did not even know what the word meant? But, of course, his
+mother was right.
+
+“Oh, well,” said Mr. Stonecrop, “I can just let him drive through
+Bloomsbury Square, and then he shall run home again.”
+
+“Very good, sir. And I'm much obliged to you,” said his mother.
+And Diamond, dancing with delight, got his cap, put his hand in Mr.
+Stonecrop's, and went with him to the yard where the cab was waiting.
+He did not think the horse looked nearly so nice as Diamond, nor Mr.
+Stonecrop nearly so grand as his father; but he was none, the less
+pleased. He got up on the box, and his new friend got up beside him.
+
+“What's the horse's name?” whispered Diamond, as he took the reins from
+the man.
+
+“It's not a nice name,” said Mr. Stonecrop. “You needn't call him by it.
+I didn't give it him. He'll go well enough without it. Give the boy a
+whip, Jack. I never carries one when I drive old----”
+
+He didn't finish the sentence. Jack handed Diamond a whip, with which,
+by holding it half down the stick, he managed just to flack the haunches
+of the horse; and away he went.
+
+“Mind the gate,” said Mr. Stonecrop; and Diamond did mind the gate, and
+guided the nameless horse through it in safety, pulling him this way and
+that according as was necessary. Diamond learned to drive all the sooner
+that he had been accustomed to do what he was told, and could obey the
+smallest hint in a moment. Nothing helps one to get on like that. Some
+people don't know how to do what they are told; they have not been used
+to it, and they neither understand quickly nor are able to turn what
+they do understand into action quickly. With an obedient mind one learns
+the rights of things fast enough; for it is the law of the universe, and
+to obey is to understand.
+
+“Look out!” cried Mr. Stonecrop, as they were turning the corner into
+Bloomsbury Square.
+
+It was getting dusky now. A cab was approaching rather rapidly from
+the opposite direction, and Diamond pulling aside, and the other driver
+pulling up, they only just escaped a collision. Then they knew each
+other.
+
+“Why, Diamond, it's a bad beginning to run into your own father,” cried
+the driver.
+
+“But, father, wouldn't it have been a bad ending to run into your own
+son?” said Diamond in return; and the two men laughed heartily.
+
+“This is very kind of you, I'm sure, Stonecrop,” said his father.
+
+“Not a bit. He's a brave fellow, and'll be fit to drive on his own hook
+in a week or two. But I think you'd better let him drive you home now,
+for his mother don't like his having over much of the night air, and I
+promised not to take him farther than the square.”
+
+“Come along then, Diamond,” said his father, as he brought his cab up to
+the other, and moved off the box to the seat beside it. Diamond jumped
+across, caught at the reins, said “Good-night, and thank you, Mr.
+Stonecrop,” and drove away home, feeling more of a man than he had ever
+yet had a chance of feeling in all his life. Nor did his father find it
+necessary to give him a single hint as to his driving. Only I suspect
+the fact that it was old Diamond, and old Diamond on his way to his
+stable, may have had something to do with young Diamond's success.
+
+“Well, child,” said his mother, when he entered the room, “you've not
+been long gone.”
+
+“No, mother; here I am. Give me the baby.”
+
+“The baby's asleep,” said his mother.
+
+“Then give him to me, and I'll lay him down.”
+
+But as Diamond took him, he woke up and began to laugh. For he was
+indeed one of the merriest children. And no wonder, for he was as plump
+as a plum-pudding, and had never had an ache or a pain that lasted more
+than five minutes at a time. Diamond sat down with him and began to sing
+to him.
+
+baby baby babbing your father's gone a-cabbing to catch a shilling for
+its pence to make the baby babbing dance for old Diamond's a duck they
+say he can swim but the duck of diamonds is baby that's him and of all
+the swallows the merriest fellows that bake their cake with the water
+they shake out of the river flowing for ever and make dust into clay on
+the shiniest day to build their nest father's the best and mother's the
+whitest and her eyes are the brightest of all the dams that watch their
+lambs cropping the grass where the waters pass singing for ever and of
+all the lambs with the shakingest tails and the jumpingest feet baby's
+the funniest baby's the bonniest and he never wails and he's always
+sweet and Diamond's his nurse and Diamond's his nurse and Diamond's his
+nurse
+
+
+When Diamond's rhymes grew scarce, he always began dancing the baby.
+Some people wondered that such a child could rhyme as he did, but his
+rhymes were not very good, for he was only trying to remember what he
+had heard the river sing at the back of the north wind.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII. DIAMOND GOES ON
+
+
+DIAMOND became a great favourite with all the men about the mews. Some
+may think it was not the best place in the world for him to be brought
+up in; but it must have been, for there he was. At first, he heard a
+good many rough and bad words; but he did not like them, and so they did
+him little harm. He did not know in the least what they meant, but there
+was something in the very sound of them, and in the tone of voice in
+which they were said, which Diamond felt to be ugly. So they did not
+even stick to him, not to say get inside him. He never took any notice
+of them, and his face shone pure and good in the middle of them, like
+a primrose in a hailstorm. At first, because his face was so quiet
+and sweet, with a smile always either awake or asleep in his eyes, and
+because he never heeded their ugly words and rough jokes, they said he
+wasn't all there, meaning that he was half an idiot, whereas he was a
+great deal more there than they had the sense to see. And before long
+the bad words found themselves ashamed to come out of the men's mouths
+when Diamond was near. The one would nudge the other to remind him that
+the boy was within hearing, and the words choked themselves before they
+got any farther. When they talked to him nicely he had always a good
+answer, sometimes a smart one, ready, and that helped much to make them
+change their minds about him.
+
+One day Jack gave him a curry-comb and a brush to try his hand upon
+old Diamond's coat. He used them so deftly, so gently, and yet so
+thoroughly, as far as he could reach, that the man could not help
+admiring him.
+
+“You must make haste and, grow” he said. “It won't do to have a horse's
+belly clean and his back dirty, you know.”
+
+“Give me a leg,” said Diamond, and in a moment he was on the old horse's
+back with the comb and brush. He sat on his withers, and reaching
+forward as he ate his hay, he curried and he brushed, first at one side
+of his neck, and then at the other. When that was done he asked for a
+dressing-comb, and combed his mane thoroughly. Then he pushed himself on
+to his back, and did his shoulders as far down as he could reach. Then
+he sat on his croup, and did his back and sides; then he turned around
+like a monkey, and attacked his hind-quarters, and combed his tail. This
+last was not so easy to manage, for he had to lift it up, and every now
+and then old Diamond would whisk it out of his hands, and once he sent
+the comb flying out of the stable door, to the great amusement of the
+men. But Jack fetched it again, and Diamond began once more, and did not
+leave off until he had done the whole business fairly well, if not in
+a first-rate, experienced fashion. All the time the old horse went
+on eating his hay, and, but with an occasional whisk of his tail when
+Diamond tickled or scratched him, took no notice of the proceeding.
+But that was all a pretence, for he knew very well who it was that
+was perched on his back, and rubbing away at him with the comb and the
+brush. So he was quite pleased and proud, and perhaps said to himself
+something like this--
+
+“I'm a stupid old horse, who can't brush his own coat; but there's my
+young godson on my back, cleaning me like an angel.”
+
+I won't vouch for what the old horse was thinking, for it is very
+difficult to find out what any old horse is thinking.
+
+“Oh dear!” said Diamond when he had done, “I'm so tired!”
+
+And he laid himself down at full length on old Diamond's back.
+
+By this time all the men in the stable were gathered about the two
+Diamonds, and all much amused. One of them lifted him down, and from
+that time he was a greater favourite than before. And if ever there was
+a boy who had a chance of being a prodigy at cab-driving, Diamond was
+that boy, for the strife came to be who should have him out with him on
+the box.
+
+His mother, however, was a little shy of the company for him, and
+besides she could not always spare him. Also his father liked to have
+him himself when he could; so that he was more desired than enjoyed
+among the cabmen.
+
+But one way and another he did learn to drive all sorts of horses, and
+to drive them well, and that through the most crowded streets in London
+City. Of course there was the man always on the box-seat beside him, but
+before long there was seldom the least occasion to take the reins
+from out of his hands. For one thing he never got frightened, and
+consequently was never in too great a hurry. Yet when the moment came
+for doing something sharp, he was always ready for it. I must once more
+remind my readers that he had been to the back of the north wind.
+
+One day, which was neither washing-day, nor cleaning-day nor
+marketing-day, nor Saturday, nor Monday--upon which consequently Diamond
+could be spared from the baby--his father took him on his own cab. After
+a stray job or two by the way, they drew up in the row upon the stand
+between Cockspur Street and Pall Mall. They waited a long time, but
+nobody seemed to want to be carried anywhere. By and by ladies would be
+going home from the Academy exhibition, and then there would be a chance
+of a job.
+
+“Though, to be sure,” said Diamond's father--with what truth I cannot
+say, but he believed what he said--“some ladies is very hard, and keeps
+you to the bare sixpence a mile, when every one knows that ain't enough
+to keep a family and a cab upon. To be sure it's the law; but mayhap
+they may get more law than they like some day themselves.”
+
+As it was very hot, Diamond's father got down to have a glass of beer
+himself, and give another to the old waterman. He left Diamond on the
+box.
+
+A sudden noise got up, and Diamond looked round to see what was the
+matter.
+
+There was a crossing near the cab-stand, where a girl was sweeping. Some
+rough young imps had picked a quarrel with her, and were now hauling
+at her broom to get it away from her. But as they did not pull all
+together, she was holding it against them, scolding and entreating
+alternately.
+
+Diamond was off his box in a moment, and running to the help of the
+girl. He got hold of the broom at her end and pulled along with her. But
+the boys proceeded to rougher measures, and one of them hit Diamond on
+the nose, and made it bleed; and as he could not let go the broom to
+mind his nose, he was soon a dreadful figure. But presently his father
+came back, and missing Diamond, looked about. He had to look twice,
+however, before he could be sure that that was his boy in the middle
+of the tumult. He rushed in, and sent the assailants flying in all
+directions. The girl thanked Diamond, and began sweeping as if nothing
+had happened, while his father led him away. With the help of old Tom,
+the waterman, he was soon washed into decency, and his father set him on
+the box again, perfectly satisfied with the account he gave of the cause
+of his being in a fray.
+
+“I couldn't let them behave so to a poor girl--could I, father?” he
+said.
+
+“Certainly not, Diamond,” said his father, quite pleased, for Diamond's
+father was a gentleman.
+
+A moment after, up came the girl, running, with her broom over her
+shoulder, and calling, “Cab, there! cab!”
+
+Diamond's father turned instantly, for he was the foremost in the rank,
+and followed the girl. One or two other passing cabs heard the cry, and
+made for the place, but the girl had taken care not to call till she was
+near enough to give her friends the first chance. When they reached
+the curbstone--who should it be waiting for the cab but Mrs. and Miss
+Coleman! They did not look at the cabman, however. The girl opened the
+door for them; they gave her the address, and a penny; she told the
+cabman, and away they drove.
+
+When they reached the house, Diamond's father got down and rang the
+bell. As he opened the door of the cab, he touched his hat as he had
+been wont to do. The ladies both stared for a moment, and then exclaimed
+together:
+
+“Why, Joseph! can it be you?”
+
+“Yes, ma'am; yes, miss,” answered he, again touching his hat, with all
+the respect he could possibly put into the action. “It's a lucky day
+which I see you once more upon it.”
+
+“Who would have thought it?” said Mrs. Coleman. “It's changed times for
+both of us, Joseph, and it's not very often we can have a cab even; but
+you see my daughter is still very poorly, and she can't bear the motion
+of the omnibuses. Indeed we meant to walk a bit first before we took a
+cab, but just at the corner, for as hot as the sun was, a cold wind came
+down the street, and I saw that Miss Coleman must not face it. But to
+think we should have fallen upon you, of all the cabmen in London! I
+didn't know you had got a cab.”
+
+“Well, you see, ma'am, I had a chance of buying the old horse, and I
+couldn't resist him. There he is, looking at you, ma'am. Nobody knows
+the sense in that head of his.”
+
+The two ladies went near to pat the horse, and then they noticed Diamond
+on the box.
+
+“Why, you've got both Diamonds with you,” said Miss Coleman. “How do you
+do, Diamond?”
+
+Diamond lifted his cap, and answered politely.
+
+“He'll be fit to drive himself before long,” said his father, proudly.
+“The old horse is a-teaching of him.”
+
+“Well, he must come and see us, now you've found us out. Where do you
+live?”
+
+Diamond's father gave the ladies a ticket with his name and address
+printed on it; and then Mrs. Coleman took out her purse, saying:
+
+“And what's your fare, Joseph?”
+
+“No, thank you, ma'am,” said Joseph. “It was your own old horse as took
+you; and me you paid long ago.”
+
+He jumped on his box before she could say another word, and with a
+parting salute drove off, leaving them on the pavement, with the maid
+holding the door for them.
+
+It was a long time now since Diamond had seen North Wind, or even
+thought much about her. And as his father drove along, he was thinking
+not about her, but about the crossing-sweeper, and was wondering what
+made him feel as if he knew her quite well, when he could not remember
+anything of her. But a picture arose in his mind of a little girl
+running before the wind and dragging her broom after her; and from that,
+by degrees, he recalled the whole adventure of the night when he got
+down from North Wind's back in a London street. But he could not quite
+satisfy himself whether the whole affair was not a dream which he had
+dreamed when he was a very little boy. Only he had been to the back of
+the north wind since--there could be no doubt of that; for when he woke
+every morning, he always knew that he had been there again. And as he
+thought and thought, he recalled another thing that had happened that
+morning, which, although it seemed a mere accident, might have something
+to do with what had happened since. His father had intended going on the
+stand at King's Cross that morning, and had turned into Gray's Inn Lane
+to drive there, when they found the way blocked up, and upon inquiry
+were informed that a stack of chimneys had been blown down in the night,
+and had fallen across the road. They were just clearing the rubbish
+away. Diamond's father turned, and made for Charing Cross.
+
+That night the father and mother had a great deal to talk about.
+
+“Poor things!” said the mother. “it's worse for them than it is for us.
+You see they've been used to such grand things, and for them to come
+down to a little poky house like that--it breaks my heart to think of
+it.”
+
+“I don't know” said Diamond thoughtfully, “whether Mrs. Coleman had
+bells on her toes.”
+
+“What do you mean, child?” said his mother.
+
+“She had rings on her fingers, anyhow,” returned Diamond.
+
+“Of course she had, as any lady would. What has that to do with it?”
+
+“When we were down at Sandwich,” said Diamond, “you said you would have
+to part with your mother's ring, now we were poor.”
+
+“Bless the child; he forgets nothing,” said his mother. “Really,
+Diamond, a body would need to mind what they say to you.”
+
+“Why?” said Diamond. “I only think about it.”
+
+“That's just why,” said the mother.
+
+“Why is that why?” persisted Diamond, for he had not yet learned that
+grown-up people are not often so much grown up that they never talk like
+children--and spoilt ones too.
+
+“Mrs. Coleman is none so poor as all that yet. No, thank Heaven! she's
+not come to that.”
+
+“Is it a great disgrace to be poor?” asked Diamond, because of the tone
+in which his mother had spoken.
+
+But his mother, whether conscience-stricken I do not know hurried him
+away to bed, where after various attempts to understand her, resumed and
+resumed again in spite of invading sleep, he was conquered at last, and
+gave in, murmuring over and over to himself, “Why is why?” but getting
+no answer to the question.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII. THE DRUNKEN CABMAN
+
+
+A FEW nights after this, Diamond woke up suddenly, believing he heard
+North Wind thundering along. But it was something quite different. South
+Wind was moaning round the chimneys, to be sure, for she was not very
+happy that night, but it was not her voice that had wakened Diamond. Her
+voice would only have lulled him the deeper asleep. It was a loud, angry
+voice, now growling like that of a beast, now raving like that of a
+madman; and when Diamond came a little wider awake, he knew that it was
+the voice of the drunken cabman, the wall of whose room was at the head
+of his bed. It was anything but pleasant to hear, but he could not help
+hearing it. At length there came a cry from the woman, and then a scream
+from the baby. Thereupon Diamond thought it time that somebody did
+something, and as himself was the only somebody at hand, he must go and
+see whether he could not do something. So he got up and put on part of
+his clothes, and went down the stair, for the cabman's room did not open
+upon their stair, and he had to go out into the yard, and in at the next
+door. This, fortunately, the cabman, being drunk, had left open. By
+the time he reached their stair, all was still except the voice of the
+crying baby, which guided him to the right door. He opened it softly,
+and peeped in. There, leaning back in a chair, with his arms hanging
+down by his sides, and his legs stretched out before him and supported
+on his heels, sat the drunken cabman. His wife lay in her clothes upon
+the bed, sobbing, and the baby was wailing in the cradle. It was very
+miserable altogether.
+
+Now the way most people do when they see anything very miserable is to
+turn away from the sight, and try to forget it. But Diamond began as
+usual to try to destroy the misery. The little boy was just as much one
+of God's messengers as if he had been an angel with a flaming sword,
+going out to fight the devil. The devil he had to fight just then
+was Misery. And the way he fought him was the very best. Like a wise
+soldier, he attacked him first in his weakest point--that was the baby;
+for Misery can never get such a hold of a baby as of a grown person.
+Diamond was knowing in babies, and he knew he could do something to make
+the baby, happy; for although he had only known one baby as yet, and
+although not one baby is the same as another, yet they are so very much
+alike in some things, and he knew that one baby so thoroughly, that he
+had good reason to believe he could do something for any other. I have
+known people who would have begun to fight the devil in a very different
+and a very stupid way. They would have begun by scolding the idiotic
+cabman; and next they would make his wife angry by saying it must be her
+fault as well as his, and by leaving ill-bred though well-meant shabby
+little books for them to read, which they were sure to hate the sight
+of; while all the time they would not have put out a finger to touch the
+wailing baby. But Diamond had him out of the cradle in a moment, set
+him up on his knee, and told him to look at the light. Now all the light
+there was came only from a lamp in the yard, and it was a very dingy and
+yellow light, for the glass of the lamp was dirty, and the gas was bad;
+but the light that came from it was, notwithstanding, as certainly
+light as if it had come from the sun itself, and the baby knew that, and
+smiled to it; and although it was indeed a wretched room which that lamp
+lighted--so dreary, and dirty, and empty, and hopeless!--there in the
+middle of it sat Diamond on a stool, smiling to the baby, and the baby
+on his knees smiling to the lamp. The father of him sat staring at
+nothing, neither asleep nor awake, not quite lost in stupidity either,
+for through it all he was dimly angry with himself, he did not know
+why. It was that he had struck his wife. He had forgotten it, but was
+miserable about it, notwithstanding. And this misery was the voice of
+the great Love that had made him and his wife and the baby and Diamond,
+speaking in his heart, and telling him to be good. For that great Love
+speaks in the most wretched and dirty hearts; only the tone of its voice
+depends on the echoes of the place in which it sounds. On Mount Sinai,
+it was thunder; in the cabman's heart it was misery; in the soul of St.
+John it was perfect blessedness.
+
+By and by he became aware that there was a voice of singing in the room.
+This, of course, was the voice of Diamond singing to the baby--song
+after song, every one as foolish as another to the cabman, for he was
+too tipsy to part one word from another: all the words mixed up in his
+ear in a gurgle without division or stop; for such was the way he spoke
+himself, when he was in this horrid condition. But the baby was more
+than content with Diamond's songs, and Diamond himself was so contented
+with what the songs were all about, that he did not care a bit about the
+songs themselves, if only baby liked them. But they did the cabman good
+as well as the baby and Diamond, for they put him to sleep, and the
+sleep was busy all the time it lasted, smoothing the wrinkles out of his
+temper.
+
+At length Diamond grew tired of singing, and began to talk to the baby
+instead. And as soon as he stopped singing, the cabman began to wake up.
+His brain was a little clearer now, his temper a little smoother,
+and his heart not quite so dirty. He began to listen and he went on
+listening, and heard Diamond saying to the baby something like this, for
+he thought the cabman was asleep:
+
+“Poor daddy! Baby's daddy takes too much beer and gin, and that makes
+him somebody else, and not his own self at all. Baby's daddy would never
+hit baby's mammy if he didn't take too much beer. He's very fond of
+baby's mammy, and works from morning to night to get her breakfast and
+dinner and supper, only at night he forgets, and pays the money away for
+beer. And they put nasty stuff in beer, I've heard my daddy say, that
+drives all the good out, and lets all the bad in. Daddy says when a man
+takes a drink, there's a thirsty devil creeps into his inside, because
+he knows he will always get enough there. And the devil is always crying
+out for more drink, and that makes the man thirsty, and so he drinks
+more and more, till he kills himself with it. And then the ugly devil
+creeps out of him, and crawls about on his belly, looking for some other
+cabman to get into, that he may drink, drink, drink. That's what my
+daddy says, baby. And he says, too, the only way to make the devil come
+out is to give him plenty of cold water and tea and coffee, and nothing
+at all that comes from the public-house; for the devil can't abide that
+kind of stuff, and creeps out pretty soon, for fear of being drowned
+in it. But your daddy will drink the nasty stuff, poor man! I wish he
+wouldn't, for it makes mammy cross with him, and no wonder! and then
+when mammy's cross, he's crosser, and there's nobody in the house to
+take care of them but baby; and you do take care of them, baby--don't
+you, baby? I know you do. Babies always take care of their fathers and
+mothers--don't they, baby? That's what they come for--isn't it, baby?
+And when daddy stops drinking beer and nasty gin with turpentine in it,
+father says, then mammy will be so happy, and look so pretty! and daddy
+will be so good to baby! and baby will be as happy as a swallow, which
+is the merriest fellow! And Diamond will be so happy too! And when
+Diamond's a man, he'll take baby out with him on the box, and teach him
+to drive a cab.”
+
+He went on with chatter like this till baby was asleep, by which time
+he was tired, and father and mother were both wide awake--only rather
+confused--the one from the beer, the other from the blow--and staring,
+the one from his chair, the other from her bed, at Diamond. But he was
+quite unaware of their notice, for he sat half-asleep, with his eyes
+wide open, staring in his turn, though without knowing it, at the
+cabman, while the cabman could not withdraw his gaze from Diamond's
+white face and big eyes. For Diamond's face was always rather pale, and
+now it was paler than usual with sleeplessness, and the light of the
+street-lamp upon it. At length he found himself nodding, and he knew
+then it was time to put the baby down, lest he should let him fall. So
+he rose from the little three-legged stool, and laid the baby in the
+cradle, and covered him up--it was well it was a warm night, and he did
+not want much covering--and then he all but staggered out of the door,
+he was so tipsy himself with sleep.
+
+“Wife,” said the cabman, turning towards the bed, “I do somehow believe
+that wur a angel just gone. Did you see him, wife? He warn't wery big,
+and he hadn't got none o' them wingses, you know. It wur one o' them
+baby-angels you sees on the gravestones, you know.”
+
+“Nonsense, hubby!” said his wife; “but it's just as good. I might say
+better, for you can ketch hold of him when you like. That's little
+Diamond as everybody knows, and a duck o' diamonds he is! No woman could
+wish for a better child than he be.”
+
+“I ha' heerd on him in the stable, but I never see the brat afore. Come,
+old girl, let bygones be bygones, and gie us a kiss, and we'll go to
+bed.”
+
+The cabman kept his cab in another yard, although he had his room in
+this. He was often late in coming home, and was not one to take notice
+of children, especially when he was tipsy, which was oftener than not.
+Hence, if he had ever seen Diamond, he did not know him. But his wife
+knew him well enough, as did every one else who lived all day in the
+yard. She was a good-natured woman. It was she who had got the fire
+lighted and the tea ready for them when Diamond and his mother came home
+from Sandwich. And her husband was not an ill-natured man either, and
+when in the morning he recalled not only Diamond's visit, but how he
+himself had behaved to his wife, he was very vexed with himself, and
+gladdened his poor wife's heart by telling her how sorry he was. And for
+a whole week after, he did not go near the public-house, hard as it was
+to avoid it, seeing a certain rich brewer had built one, like a trap to
+catch souls and bodies in, at almost every corner he had to pass on his
+way home. Indeed, he was never quite so bad after that, though it was
+some time before he began really to reform.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX. DIAMOND'S FRIENDS
+
+
+ONE day when old Diamond was standing with his nose in his bag between
+Pall Mall and Cockspur Street, and his master was reading the newspaper
+on the box of his cab, which was the last of a good many in the row,
+little Diamond got down for a run, for his legs were getting cramped
+with sitting. And first of all he strolled with his hands in his pockets
+up to the crossing, where the girl and her broom were to be found in all
+weathers. Just as he was going to speak to her, a tall gentleman stepped
+upon the crossing. He was pleased to find it so clean, for the streets
+were muddy, and he had nice boots on; so he put his hand in his pocket,
+and gave the girl a penny. But when she gave him a sweet smile in
+return, and made him a pretty courtesy, he looked at her again, and
+said:
+
+“Where do you live, my child?”
+
+“Paradise Row,” she answered; “next door to the Adam and Eve--down the
+area.”
+
+“Whom do you live with?” he asked.
+
+“My wicked old grannie,” she replied.
+
+“You shouldn't call your grannie wicked,” said the gentleman.
+
+“But she is,” said the girl, looking up confidently in his face. “If you
+don't believe me, you can come and take a look at her.”
+
+The words sounded rude, but the girl's face looked so simple that
+the gentleman saw she did not mean to be rude, and became still more
+interested in her.
+
+“Still you shouldn't say so,” he insisted.
+
+“Shouldn't I? Everybody calls her wicked old grannie--even them that's
+as wicked as her. You should hear her swear. There's nothing like it in
+the Row. Indeed, I assure you, sir, there's ne'er a one of them can shut
+my grannie up once she begins and gets right a-going. You must put her
+in a passion first, you know. It's no good till you do that--she's so
+old now. How she do make them laugh, to be sure!”
+
+Although she called her wicked, the child spoke so as plainly to
+indicate pride in her grannie's pre-eminence in swearing.
+
+The gentleman looked very grave to hear her, for he was sorry that such
+a nice little girl should be in such bad keeping. But he did not know
+what to say next, and stood for a moment with his eyes on the ground.
+When he lifted them, he saw the face of Diamond looking up in his.
+
+“Please, sir,” said Diamond, “her grannie's very cruel to her sometimes,
+and shuts her out in the streets at night, if she happens to be late.”
+
+“Is this your brother?” asked the gentleman of the girl.
+
+“No, sir.”
+
+“How does he know your grandmother, then? He does not look like one of
+her sort.”
+
+“Oh no, sir! He's a good boy--quite.”
+
+Here she tapped her forehead with her finger in a significant manner.
+
+“What do you mean by that?” asked the gentleman, while Diamond looked on
+smiling.
+
+“The cabbies call him God's baby,” she whispered. “He's not right in the
+head, you know. A tile loose.”
+
+Still Diamond, though he heard every word, and understood it too, kept
+on smiling. What could it matter what people called him, so long as he
+did nothing he ought not to do? And, besides, God's baby was surely the
+best of names!
+
+“Well, my little man, and what can you do?” asked the gentleman, turning
+towards him--just for the sake of saying something.
+
+“Drive a cab,” said Diamond.
+
+“Good; and what else?” he continued; for, accepting what the girl had
+said, he regarded the still sweetness of Diamond's face as a sign of
+silliness, and wished to be kind to the poor little fellow.
+
+“Nurse a baby,” said Diamond.
+
+“Well--and what else?”
+
+“Clean father's boots, and make him a bit of toast for his tea.”
+
+“You're a useful little man,” said the gentleman. “What else can you
+do?”
+
+“Not much that I know of,” said Diamond. “I can't curry a horse, except
+somebody puts me on his back. So I don't count that.”
+
+“Can you read?”
+
+“No. But mother can and father can, and they're going to teach me some
+day soon.”
+
+“Well, here's a penny for you.”
+
+“Thank you, sir.”
+
+“And when you have learned to read, come to me, and I'll give you
+sixpence and a book with fine pictures in it.”
+
+“Please, sir, where am I to come?” asked Diamond, who was too much a
+man of the world not to know that he must have the gentleman's address
+before he could go and see him.
+
+“You're no such silly!” thought he, as he put his hand in his pocket,
+and brought out a card. “There,” he said, “your father will be able to
+read that, and tell you where to go.”
+
+“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” said Diamond, and put the card in his
+pocket.
+
+The gentleman walked away, but turning round a few paces off, saw
+Diamond give his penny to the girl, and, walking slower heard him say:
+
+“I've got a father, and mother, and little brother, and you've got
+nothing but a wicked old grannie. You may have my penny.”
+
+The girl put it beside the other in her pocket, the only trustworthy
+article of dress she wore. Her grandmother always took care that she had
+a stout pocket.
+
+“Is she as cruel as ever?” asked Diamond.
+
+“Much the same. But I gets more coppers now than I used to, and I can
+get summats to eat, and take browns enough home besides to keep her from
+grumbling. It's a good thing she's so blind, though.”
+
+“Why?” asked Diamond.
+
+“'Cause if she was as sharp in the eyes as she used to be, she would
+find out I never eats her broken wittles, and then she'd know as I must
+get something somewheres.”
+
+“Doesn't she watch you, then?”
+
+“O' course she do. Don't she just! But I make believe and drop it in my
+lap, and then hitch it into my pocket.”
+
+“What would she do if she found you out?”
+
+“She never give me no more.”
+
+“But you don't want it!”
+
+“Yes, I do want it.”
+
+“What do you do with it, then?”
+
+“Give it to cripple Jim.”
+
+“Who's cripple Jim?”
+
+“A boy in the Row. His mother broke his leg when he wur a kid, so he's
+never come to much; but he's a good boy, is Jim, and I love Jim dearly.
+I always keeps off a penny for Jim--leastways as often as I can.--But
+there I must sweep again, for them busses makes no end o' dirt.”
+
+“Diamond! Diamond!” cried his father, who was afraid he might get no
+good by talking to the girl; and Diamond obeyed, and got up again
+upon the box. He told his father about the gentleman, and what he had
+promised him if he would learn to read, and showed him the gentleman's
+card.
+
+“Why, it's not many doors from the Mews!” said his father, giving him
+back the card. “Take care of it, my boy, for it may lead to something.
+God knows, in these hard times a man wants as many friends as he's ever
+likely to get.”
+
+“Haven't you got friends enough, father?” asked Diamond.
+
+“Well, I have no right to complain; but the more the better, you know.”
+
+“Just let me count,” said Diamond.
+
+And he took his hands from his pockets, and spreading out the fingers of
+his left hand, began to count, beginning at the thumb.
+
+“There's mother, first, and then baby, and then me. Next there's old
+Diamond--and the cab--no, I won't count the cab, for it never looks at
+you, and when Diamond's out of the shafts, it's nobody. Then there's the
+man that drinks next door, and his wife, and his baby.”
+
+“They're no friends of mine,” said his father.
+
+“Well, they're friends of mine,” said Diamond.
+
+His father laughed.
+
+“Much good they'll do you!” he said.
+
+“How do you know they won't?” returned Diamond.
+
+“Well, go on,” said his father.
+
+“Then there's Jack and Mr. Stonecrop, and, deary me! not to have
+mentioned Mr. Coleman and Mrs. Coleman, and Miss Coleman, and Mrs.
+Crump. And then there's the clergyman that spoke to me in the garden
+that day the tree was blown down.”
+
+“What's his name!”
+
+“I don't know his name.”
+
+“Where does he live?”
+
+“I don't know.”
+
+“How can you count him, then?”
+
+“He did talk to me, and very kindlike too.”
+
+His father laughed again.
+
+“Why, child, you're just counting everybody you know. That don't make
+'em friends.”
+
+“Don't it? I thought it did. Well, but they shall be my friends. I shall
+make 'em.”
+
+“How will you do that?”
+
+“They can't help themselves then, if they would. If I choose to be their
+friend, you know, they can't prevent me. Then there's that girl at the
+crossing.”
+
+“A fine set of friends you do have, to be sure, Diamond!”
+
+“Surely she's a friend anyhow, father. If it hadn't been for her, you
+would never have got Mrs. Coleman and Miss Coleman to carry home.”
+
+His father was silent, for he saw that Diamond was right, and was
+ashamed to find himself more ungrateful than he had thought.
+
+“Then there's the new gentleman,” Diamond went on.
+
+“If he do as he say,” interposed his father.
+
+“And why shouldn't he? I daresay sixpence ain't too much for him to
+spare. But I don't quite understand, father: is nobody your friend but
+the one that does something for you?”
+
+“No, I won't say that, my boy. You would have to leave out baby then.”
+
+“Oh no, I shouldn't. Baby can laugh in your face, and crow in your ears,
+and make you feel so happy. Call you that nothing, father?”
+
+The father's heart was fairly touched now. He made no answer to this
+last appeal, and Diamond ended off with saying:
+
+“And there's the best of mine to come yet--and that's you, daddy--except
+it be mother, you know. You're my friend, daddy, ain't you? And I'm your
+friend, ain't I?”
+
+“And God for us all,” said his father, and then they were both silent
+for that was very solemn.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX. DIAMOND LEARNS TO READ
+
+
+THE question of the tall gentleman as to whether Diamond could read or
+not set his father thinking it was high time he could; and as soon as
+old Diamond was suppered and bedded, he began the task that very night.
+But it was not much of a task to Diamond, for his father took for his
+lesson-book those very rhymes his mother had picked up on the sea-shore;
+and as Diamond was not beginning too soon, he learned very fast indeed.
+Within a month he was able to spell out most of the verses for himself.
+
+But he had never come upon the poem he thought he had heard his mother
+read from it that day. He had looked through and through the book
+several times after he knew the letters and a few words, fancying he
+could tell the look of it, but had always failed to find one more like
+it than another. So he wisely gave up the search till he could really
+read. Then he resolved to begin at the beginning, and read them all
+straight through. This took him nearly a fortnight. When he had almost
+reached the end, he came upon the following verses, which took his fancy
+much, although they were certainly not very like those he was in search
+of.
+
+
+LITTLE BOY BLUE
+
+            Little Boy Blue lost his way in a wood.
+               Sing apples and cherries, roses and honey;
+            He said, “I would not go back if I could,
+               It's all so jolly and funny.”
+
+            He sang, “This wood is all my own,
+               Apples and cherries, roses and honey;
+            So here I'll sit, like a king on my throne,
+               All so jolly and funny.”
+
+            A little snake crept out of the tree,
+               Apples and cherries, roses and honey;
+            “Lie down at my feet, little snake,” said he,
+               All so jolly and funny.
+
+            A little bird sang in the tree overhead,
+               Apples and cherries, roses and honey;
+            “Come and sing your song on my finger instead,
+               All so jolly and funny.”
+
+            The snake coiled up; and the bird flew down,
+            And sang him the song of Birdie Brown.
+
+            Little Boy Blue found it tiresome to sit,
+            And he thought he had better walk on a bit.
+
+            So up he got, his way to take,
+            And he said, “Come along, little bird and snake.”
+
+            And waves of snake o'er the damp leaves passed,
+            And the snake went first and Birdie Brown last;
+
+            By Boy Blue's head, with flutter and dart,
+            Flew Birdie Brown with its song in its heart.
+
+            He came where the apples grew red and sweet:
+            “Tree, drop me an apple down at my feet.”
+
+            He came where the cherries hung plump and red:
+            “Come to my mouth, sweet kisses,” he said.
+
+            And the boughs bow down, and the apples they dapple
+            The grass, too many for him to grapple.
+
+            And the cheeriest cherries, with never a miss,
+            Fall to his mouth, each a full-grown kiss.
+
+            He met a little brook singing a song.
+            He said, “Little brook, you are going wrong.
+
+            “You must follow me, follow me, follow, I say
+            Do as I tell you, and come this way.”
+
+            And the song-singing, sing-songing forest brook
+            Leaped from its bed and after him took,
+
+            Followed him, followed.  And pale and wan,
+            The dead leaves rustled as the water ran.
+
+            And every bird high up on the bough,
+            And every creature low down below,
+
+            He called, and the creatures obeyed the call,
+            Took their legs and their wings and followed him all;
+
+            Squirrels that carried their tails like a sack,
+            Each on his own little humpy brown back;
+
+            Householder snails, and slugs all tails,
+            And butterflies, flutterbies, ships all sails;
+
+            And weasels, and ousels, and mice, and larks,
+            And owls, and rere-mice, and harkydarks,
+
+            All went running, and creeping, and flowing,
+            After the merry boy fluttering and going;
+
+            The dappled fawns fawning, the fallow-deer following,
+            The swallows and flies, flying and swallowing;
+
+            Cockchafers, henchafers, cockioli-birds,
+            Cockroaches, henroaches, cuckoos in herds.
+
+            The spider forgot and followed him spinning,
+            And lost all his thread from end to beginning.
+
+            The gay wasp forgot his rings and his waist,
+            He never had made such undignified haste.
+
+            The dragon-flies melted to mist with their hurrying.
+            The mole in his moleskins left his barrowing burrowing.
+
+            The bees went buzzing, so busy and beesy,
+            And the midges in columns so upright and easy.
+
+            But Little Boy Blue was not content,
+            Calling for followers still as he went,
+
+            Blowing his horn, and beating his drum,
+            And crying aloud, “Come all of you, come!”
+
+            He said to the shadows, “Come after me;”
+             And the shadows began to flicker and flee,
+
+            And they flew through the wood all flattering and fluttering,
+            Over the dead leaves flickering and muttering.
+
+            And he said to the wind, “Come, follow; come, follow,
+            With whistle and pipe, and rustle and hollo.”
+
+            And the wind wound round at his desire,
+            As if he had been the gold cock on the spire.
+
+            And the cock itself flew down from the church,
+            And left the farmers all in the lurch.
+
+            They run and they fly, they creep and they come,
+            Everything, everything, all and some.
+
+            The very trees they tugged at their roots,
+            Only their feet were too fast in their boots,
+
+            After him leaning and straining and bending,
+            As on through their boles he kept walking and wending,
+
+            Till out of the wood he burst on a lea,
+            Shouting and calling, “Come after me!”
+
+            And then they rose up with a leafy hiss,
+            And stood as if nothing had been amiss.
+
+            Little Boy Blue sat down on a stone,
+            And the creatures came round him every one.
+
+            And he said to the clouds, “I want you there.”
+             And down they sank through the thin blue air.
+
+            And he said to the sunset far in the West,
+            “Come here; I want you; I know best.”
+
+            And the sunset came and stood up on the wold,
+            And burned and glowed in purple and gold.
+
+            Then Little Boy Blue began to ponder:
+            “What's to be done with them all, I wonder.”
+
+            Then Little Boy Blue, he said, quite low,
+            “What to do with you all I am sure I don't know.”
+
+            Then the clouds clodded down till dismal it grew;
+            The snake sneaked close; round Birdie Brown flew;
+
+            The brook sat up like a snake on its tail;
+            And the wind came up with a what-will-you wail;
+
+            And all the creatures sat and stared;
+            The mole opened his very eyes and glared;
+
+            And for rats and bats and the world and his wife,
+            Little Boy Blue was afraid of his life.
+
+            Then Birdie Brown began to sing,
+            And what he sang was the very thing:
+
+            “You have brought us all hither, Little Boy Blue,
+            Pray what do you want us all to do?”
+
+            “Go away!  go away!” said Little Boy Blue;
+            “I'm sure I don't want you--get away--do.”
+
+            “No, no; no, no; no, yes, and no, no,”
+             Sang Birdie Brown, “it mustn't be so.
+
+            “We cannot for nothing come here, and away.
+            Give us some work, or else we stay.”
+
+            “Oh dear! and oh dear!” with sob and with sigh,
+            Said Little Boy Blue, and began to cry.
+
+            But before he got far, he thought of a thing;
+            And up he stood, and spoke like a king.
+
+            “Why do you hustle and jostle and bother?
+            Off with you all!  Take me back to my mother.”
+
+            The sunset stood at the gates of the west.
+            “Follow me, follow me” came from Birdie Brown's breast.
+
+            “I am going that way as fast as I can,”
+             Said the brook, as it sank and turned and ran.
+
+            Back to the woods fled the shadows like ghosts:
+            “If we stay, we shall all be missed from our posts.”
+
+            Said the wind with a voice that had changed its cheer,
+            “I was just going there, when you brought me here.”
+
+            “That's where I live,” said the sack-backed squirrel,
+            And he turned his sack with a swing and a swirl.
+
+            Said the cock of the spire, “His father's churchwarden.”
+             Said the brook running faster, “I run through his garden.”
+
+            Said the mole, “Two hundred worms--there I caught 'em
+            Last year, and I'm going again next autumn.”
+
+            Said they all, “If that's where you want us to steer for,
+            What in earth or in water did you bring us here for?”
+
+            “Never you mind,” said Little Boy Blue;
+            “That's what I tell you.  If that you won't do,
+
+            “I'll get up at once, and go home without you.
+            I think I will; I begin to doubt you.”
+
+            He rose; and up rose the snake on its tail,
+            And hissed three times, half a hiss, half a wail.
+
+            Little Boy Blue he tried to go past him;
+            But wherever he turned, sat the snake and faced him.
+
+            “If you don't get out of my way,” he said,
+            “I tell you, snake, I will break your head.”
+
+            The snake he neither would go nor come;
+            So he hit him hard with the stick of his drum.
+
+            The snake fell down as if he were dead,
+            And Little Boy Blue set his foot on his head.
+
+            And all the creatures they marched before him,
+            And marshalled him home with a high cockolorum.
+
+            And Birdie Brown sang Twirrrr twitter twirrrr twee--
+            Apples and cherries, roses and honey;
+            Little Boy Blue has listened to me--
+            All so jolly and funny.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI. SAL'S NANNY
+
+
+DIAMOND managed with many blunders to read this rhyme to his mother.
+
+“Isn't it nice, mother?” he said.
+
+“Yes, it's pretty,” she answered.
+
+“I think it means something,” returned Diamond.
+
+“I'm sure I don't know what,” she said.
+
+“I wonder if it's the same boy--yes, it must be the same--Little Boy
+Blue, you know. Let me see--how does that rhyme go?
+
+Little Boy Blue, come blow me your horn--
+
+Yes, of course it is--for this one went `blowing his horn and beating
+his drum.' He had a drum too.
+
+            Little Boy Blue, come blow me your horn;
+            The sheep's in the meadow, the cow's in the corn,
+
+He had to keep them out, you know. But he wasn't minding his work. It
+goes--
+
+            Where's the little boy that looks after the sheep?
+            He's under the haystack, fast asleep.
+
+There, you see, mother! And then, let me see--
+
+            Who'll go and wake him?  No, not I;
+            For if I do, he'll be sure to cry.
+
+So I suppose nobody did wake him. He was a rather cross little boy,
+I daresay, when woke up. And when he did wake of himself, and saw the
+mischief the cow had done to the corn, instead of running home to his
+mother, he ran away into the wood and lost himself. Don't you think
+that's very likely, mother?”
+
+“I shouldn't wonder,” she answered.
+
+“So you see he was naughty; for even when he lost himself he did not
+want to go home. Any of the creatures would have shown him the way if he
+had asked it--all but the snake. He followed the snake, you know, and he
+took him farther away. I suppose it was a young one of the same serpent
+that tempted Adam and Eve. Father was telling us about it last Sunday,
+you remember.”
+
+“Bless the child!” said his mother to herself; and then added aloud,
+finding that Diamond did not go on, “Well, what next?”
+
+“I don't know, mother. I'm sure there's a great deal more, but what it
+is I can't say. I only know that he killed the snake. I suppose that's
+what he had a drumstick for. He couldn't do it with his horn.”
+
+“But surely you're not such a silly as to take it all for true,
+Diamond?”
+
+“I think it must be. It looks true. That killing of the snake looks
+true. It's what I've got to do so often.”
+
+His mother looked uneasy. Diamond smiled full in her face, and added--
+
+“When baby cries and won't be happy, and when father and you talk about
+your troubles, I mean.”
+
+This did little to reassure his mother; and lest my reader should have
+his qualms about it too, I venture to remind him once more that Diamond
+had been to the back of the north wind.
+
+Finding she made no reply, Diamond went on--
+
+“In a week or so, I shall be able to go to the tall gentleman and tell
+him I can read. And I'll ask him if he can help me to understand the
+rhyme.”
+
+But before the week was out, he had another reason for going to Mr.
+Raymond.
+
+For three days, on each of which, at one time or other, Diamond's father
+was on the same stand near the National Gallery, the girl was not at her
+crossing, and Diamond got quite anxious about her, fearing she must be
+ill. On the fourth day, not seeing her yet, he said to his father, who
+had that moment shut the door of his cab upon a fare--
+
+“Father, I want to go and look after the girl, She can't be well.”
+
+“All right,” said his father. “Only take care of yourself, Diamond.”
+
+So saying he climbed on his box and drove off.
+
+He had great confidence in his boy, you see, and would trust him
+anywhere. But if he had known the kind of place in which the girl lived,
+he would perhaps have thought twice before he allowed him to go alone.
+Diamond, who did know something of it, had not, however, any fear. From
+talking to the girl he had a good notion of where about it was, and he
+remembered the address well enough; so by asking his way some twenty
+times, mostly of policemen, he came at length pretty near the place. The
+last policeman he questioned looked down upon him from the summit of six
+feet two inches, and replied with another question, but kindly:
+
+“What do you want there, my small kid? It ain't where you was bred, I
+guess.”
+
+“No sir” answered Diamond. “I live in Bloomsbury.”
+
+“That's a long way off,” said the policeman.
+
+“Yes, it's a good distance,” answered Diamond; “but I find my way about
+pretty well. Policemen are always kind to me.”
+
+“But what on earth do you want here?”
+
+Diamond told him plainly what he was about, and of course the man
+believed him, for nobody ever disbelieved Diamond. People might think he
+was mistaken, but they never thought he was telling a story.
+
+“It's an ugly place,” said the policeman.
+
+“Is it far off?” asked Diamond.
+
+“No. It's next door almost. But it's not safe.”
+
+“Nobody hurts me,” said Diamond.
+
+“I must go with you, I suppose.”
+
+“Oh, no! please not,” said Diamond. “They might think I was going to
+meddle with them, and I ain't, you know.”
+
+“Well, do as you please,” said the man, and gave him full directions.
+
+Diamond set off, never suspecting that the policeman, who was a
+kind-hearted man, with children of his own, was following him close, and
+watching him round every corner. As he went on, all at once he thought
+he remembered the place, and whether it really was so, or only that
+he had laid up the policeman's instructions well in his mind, he went
+straight for the cellar of old Sal.
+
+“He's a sharp little kid, anyhow, for as simple as he looks,” said the
+man to himself. “Not a wrong turn does he take! But old Sal's a rum un
+for such a child to pay a morning visit to. She's worse when she's sober
+than when she's half drunk. I've seen her when she'd have torn him in
+pieces.”
+
+Happily then for Diamond, old Sal had gone out to get some gin. When
+he came to her door at the bottom of the area-stair and knocked, he
+received no answer. He laid his ear to the door, and thought he heard
+a moaning within. So he tried the door, and found it was not locked! It
+was a dreary place indeed,--and very dark, for the window was below the
+level of the street, and covered with mud, while over the grating which
+kept people from falling into the area, stood a chest of drawers, placed
+there by a dealer in second-hand furniture, which shut out almost all
+the light. And the smell in the place was dreadful. Diamond stood still
+for a while, for he could see next to nothing, but he heard the moaning
+plainly enough now, When he got used to the darkness, he discovered his
+friend lying with closed eyes and a white suffering face on a heap of
+little better than rags in a corner of the den. He went up to her and
+spoke; but she made him no answer. Indeed, she was not in the least
+aware of his presence, and Diamond saw that he could do nothing for her
+without help. So taking a lump of barley-sugar from his pocket, which he
+had bought for her as he came along, and laying it beside her, he
+left the place, having already made up his mind to go and see the tall
+gentleman, Mr. Raymond, and ask him to do something for Sal's Nanny, as
+the girl was called.
+
+By the time he got up the area-steps, three or four women who had seen
+him go down were standing together at the top waiting for him. They
+wanted his clothes for their children; but they did not follow him down
+lest Sal should find them there. The moment he appeared, they laid their
+hands on him, and all began talking at once, for each wanted to get some
+advantage over her neighbours. He told them quite quietly, for he was
+not frightened, that he had come to see what was the matter with Nanny.
+
+“What do you know about Nanny?” said one of them fiercely. “Wait till
+old Sal comes home, and you'll catch it, for going prying into her house
+when she's out. If you don't give me your jacket directly, I'll go and
+fetch her.”
+
+“I can't give you my jacket,” said Diamond. “It belongs to my father and
+mother, you know. It's not mine to give. Is it now? You would not think
+it right to give away what wasn't yours--would you now?”
+
+“Give it away! No, that I wouldn't; I'd keep it,” she said, with a rough
+laugh. “But if the jacket ain't yours, what right have you to keep it?
+Here, Cherry, make haste. It'll be one go apiece.”
+
+They all began to tug at the jacket, while Diamond stooped and kept his
+arms bent to resist them. Before they had done him or the jacket any
+harm, however, suddenly they all scampered away; and Diamond, looking in
+the opposite direction, saw the tall policeman coming towards him.
+
+“You had better have let me come with you, little man,” he said, looking
+down in Diamond's face, which was flushed with his resistance.
+
+“You came just in the right time, thank you,” returned Diamond. “They've
+done me no harm.”
+
+“They would have if I hadn't been at hand, though.”
+
+“Yes; but you were at hand, you know, so they couldn't.”
+
+Perhaps the answer was deeper in purport than either Diamond or the
+policeman knew. They walked away together, Diamond telling his new
+friend how ill poor Nanny was, and that he was going to let the tall
+gentleman know. The policeman put him in the nearest way for Bloomsbury,
+and stepping out in good earnest, Diamond reached Mr. Raymond's door
+in less than an hour. When he asked if he was at home, the servant, in
+return, asked what he wanted.
+
+“I want to tell him something.”
+
+“But I can't go and trouble him with such a message as that.”
+
+“He told me to come to him--that is, when I could read--and I can.”
+
+“How am I to know that?”
+
+Diamond stared with astonishment for one moment, then answered:
+
+“Why, I've just told you. That's how you know it.”
+
+But this man was made of coarser grain than the policeman, and, instead
+of seeing that Diamond could not tell a lie, he put his answer down as
+impudence, and saying, “Do you think I'm going to take your word for
+it?” shut the door in his face.
+
+Diamond turned and sat down on the doorstep, thinking with himself that
+the tall gentleman must either come in or come out, and he was therefore
+in the best possible position for finding him. He had not waited long
+before the door opened again; but when he looked round, it was only the
+servant once more.
+
+“Get, away” he said. “What are you doing on the doorstep?”
+
+“Waiting for Mr. Raymond,” answered Diamond, getting up.
+
+“He's not at home.”
+
+“Then I'll wait till he comes,” returned Diamond, sitting down again
+with a smile.
+
+What the man would have done next I do not know, but a step sounded from
+the hall, and when Diamond looked round yet again, there was the tall
+gentleman.
+
+“Who's this, John?” he asked.
+
+“I don't know, sir. An imperent little boy as will sit on the doorstep.”
+
+“Please sir” said Diamond, “he told me you weren't at home, and I sat
+down to wait for you.”
+
+“Eh, what!” said Mr. Raymond. “John! John! This won't do. Is it a habit
+of yours to turn away my visitors? There'll be some one else to turn
+away, I'm afraid, if I find any more of this kind of thing. Come in, my
+little man. I suppose you've come to claim your sixpence?”
+
+“No, sir, not that.”
+
+“What! can't you read yet?”
+
+“Yes, I can now, a little. But I'll come for that next time. I came to
+tell you about Sal's Nanny.”
+
+“Who's Sal's Nanny?”
+
+“The girl at the crossing you talked to the same day.”
+
+“Oh, yes; I remember. What's the matter? Has she got run over?”
+
+Then Diamond told him all.
+
+Now Mr. Raymond was one of the kindest men in London. He sent at once to
+have the horse put to the brougham, took Diamond with him, and drove to
+the Children's Hospital. There he was well known to everybody, for he
+was not only a large subscriber, but he used to go and tell the children
+stories of an afternoon. One of the doctors promised to go and find
+Nanny, and do what could be done--have her brought to the hospital, if
+possible.
+
+That same night they sent a litter for her, and as she could be of no
+use to old Sal until she was better, she did not object to having her
+removed. So she was soon lying in the fever ward--for the first time in
+her life in a nice clean bed. But she knew nothing of the whole affair.
+She was too ill to know anything.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII. MR. RAYMOND'S RIDDLE
+
+
+MR. RAYMOND took Diamond home with him, stopping at the Mews to tell his
+mother that he would send him back soon. Diamond ran in with the message
+himself, and when he reappeared he had in his hand the torn and crumpled
+book which North Wind had given him.
+
+“Ah! I see,” said Mr. Raymond: “you are going to claim your sixpence
+now.”
+
+“I wasn't thinking of that so much as of another thing,” said Diamond.
+“There's a rhyme in this book I can't quite understand. I want you to
+tell me what it means, if you please.”
+
+“I will if I can,” answered Mr. Raymond. “You shall read it to me when
+we get home, and then I shall see.”
+
+Still with a good many blunders, Diamond did read it after a fashion.
+Mr. Raymond took the little book and read it over again.
+
+Now Mr. Raymond was a poet himself, and so, although he had never been
+at the back of the north wind, he was able to understand the poem pretty
+well. But before saying anything about it, he read it over aloud, and
+Diamond thought he understood it much better already.
+
+“I'll tell you what I think it means,” he then said. “It means that
+people may have their way for a while, if they like, but it will get
+them into such troubles they'll wish they hadn't had it.”
+
+“I know, I know!” said Diamond. “Like the poor cabman next door. He
+drinks too much.”
+
+“Just so,” returned Mr. Raymond. “But when people want to do right,
+things about them will try to help them. Only they must kill the snake,
+you know.”
+
+“I was sure the snake had something to do with it,” cried Diamond
+triumphantly.
+
+A good deal more talk followed, and Mr. Raymond gave Diamond his
+sixpence.
+
+“What will you do with it?” he asked.
+
+“Take it home to my mother,” he answered. “She has a teapot--such a
+black one!--with a broken spout, and she keeps all her money in it. It
+ain't much; but she saves it up to buy shoes for me. And there's baby
+coming on famously, and he'll want shoes soon. And every sixpence is
+something--ain't it, sir?”
+
+“To be sure, my man. I hope you'll always make as good a use of your
+money.”
+
+“I hope so, sir,” said Diamond.
+
+“And here's a book for you, full of pictures and stories and poems. I
+wrote it myself, chiefly for the children of the hospital where I hope
+Nanny is going. I don't mean I printed it, you know. I made it,” added
+Mr. Raymond, wishing Diamond to understand that he was the author of the
+book.
+
+“I know what you mean. I make songs myself. They're awfully silly, but
+they please baby, and that's all they're meant for.”
+
+“Couldn't you let me hear one of them now?” said Mr. Raymond.
+
+“No, sir, I couldn't. I forget them as soon as I've done with them.
+Besides, I couldn't make a line without baby on my knee. We make them
+together, you know. They're just as much baby's as mine. It's he that
+pulls them out of me.”
+
+“I suspect the child's a genius,” said the poet to himself, “and that's
+what makes people think him silly.”
+
+Now if any of my child readers want to know what a genius is--shall
+I try to tell them, or shall I not? I will give them one very short
+answer: it means one who understands things without any other body
+telling him what they mean. God makes a few such now and then to teach
+the rest of us.
+
+“Do you like riddles?” asked Mr. Raymond, turning over the leaves of his
+own book.
+
+“I don't know what a riddle is,” said Diamond.
+
+“It's something that means something else, and you've got to find out
+what the something else is.”
+
+Mr. Raymond liked the old-fashioned riddle best, and had written a
+few--one of which he now read.
+
+            I have only one foot, but thousands of toes;
+            My one foot stands, but never goes.
+            I have many arms, and they're mighty all;
+            And hundreds of fingers, large and small.
+            From the ends of my fingers my beauty grows.
+            I breathe with my hair, and I drink with my toes.
+            I grow bigger and bigger about the waist,
+            And yet I am always very tight laced.
+            None e'er saw me eat--I've no mouth to bite;
+            Yet I eat all day in the full sunlight.
+            In the summer with song I shave and quiver,
+            But in winter I fast and groan and shiver.
+
+
+“Do you know what that means, Diamond?” he asked, when he had finished.
+
+“No, indeed, I don't,” answered Diamond.
+
+“Then you can read it for yourself, and think over it, and see if you
+can find out,” said Mr. Raymond, giving him the book. “And now you had
+better go home to your mother. When you've found the riddle, you can
+come again.”
+
+If Diamond had had to find out the riddle in order to see Mr. Raymond
+again, I doubt if he would ever have seen him.
+
+“Oh then,” I think I hear some little reader say, “he could not have
+been a genius, for a genius finds out things without being told.”
+
+I answer, “Genius finds out truths, not tricks.” And if you do not
+understand that, I am afraid you must be content to wait till you grow
+older and know more.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII. THE EARLY BIRD
+
+
+WHEN Diamond got home he found his father at home already, sitting by
+the fire and looking rather miserable, for his head ached and he felt
+sick. He had been doing night work of late, and it had not agreed with
+him, so he had given it up, but not in time, for he had taken some
+kind of fever. The next day he was forced to keep his bed, and his wife
+nursed him, and Diamond attended to the baby. If he had not been ill,
+it would have been delightful to have him at home; and the first day
+Diamond sang more songs than ever to the baby, and his father listened
+with some pleasure. But the next he could not bear even Diamond's sweet
+voice, and was very ill indeed; so Diamond took the baby into his own
+room, and had no end of quiet games with him there. If he did pull
+all his bedding on the floor, it did not matter, for he kept baby very
+quiet, and made the bed himself again, and slept in it with baby all the
+next night, and many nights after.
+
+But long before his father got well, his mother's savings were all but
+gone. She did not say a word about it in the hearing of her husband,
+lest she should distress him; and one night, when she could not help
+crying, she came into Diamond's room that his father might not hear
+her. She thought Diamond was asleep, but he was not. When he heard her
+sobbing, he was frightened, and said--
+
+“Is father worse, mother?”
+
+“No, Diamond,” she answered, as well as she could; “he's a good bit
+better.”
+
+“Then what are you crying for, mother?”
+
+“Because my money is almost all gone,” she replied.
+
+“O mammy, you make me think of a little poem baby and I learned out of
+North Wind's book to-day. Don't you remember how I bothered you about
+some of the words?”
+
+“Yes, child,” said his mother heedlessly, thinking only of what she
+should do after to-morrow.
+
+Diamond began and repeated the poem, for he had a wonderful memory.
+
+            A little bird sat on the edge of her nest;
+               Her yellow-beaks slept as sound as tops;
+            That day she had done her very best,
+               And had filled every one of their little crops.
+            She had filled her own just over-full,
+               And hence she was feeling a little dull.
+
+            “Oh, dear!” she sighed, as she sat with her head
+               Sunk in her chest, and no neck at all,
+            While her crop stuck out like a feather bed
+               Turned inside out, and rather small;
+            “What shall I do if things don't reform?
+            I don't know where there's a single worm.
+
+            “I've had twenty to-day, and the children five each,
+               Besides a few flies, and some very fat spiders:
+            No one will say I don't do as I preach--
+               I'm one of the best of bird-providers;
+            But where's the use?  We want a storm--
+               I don't know where there's a single worm.”
+
+            “There's five in my crop,” said a wee, wee bird,
+               Which woke at the voice of his mother's pain;
+            “I know where there's five.” And with the word
+               He tucked in his head, and went off again.
+            “The folly of childhood,” sighed his mother,
+            “Has always been my especial bother.”
+
+            The yellow-beaks they slept on and on--
+               They never had heard of the bogy To-morrow;
+            But the mother sat outside, making her moan--
+               She'll soon have to beg, or steal, or borrow.
+            For she never can tell the night before,
+            Where she shall find one red worm more.
+
+            The fact, as I say, was, she'd had too many;
+               She couldn't sleep, and she called it virtue,
+            Motherly foresight, affection, any
+               Name you may call it that will not hurt you,
+            So it was late ere she tucked her head in,
+            And she slept so late it was almost a sin.
+
+            But the little fellow who knew of five
+               Nor troubled his head about any more,
+            Woke very early, felt quite alive,
+               And wanted a sixth to add to his store:
+            He pushed his mother, the greedy elf,
+            Then thought he had better try for himself.
+
+            When his mother awoke and had rubbed her eyes,
+               Feeling less like a bird, and more like a mole,
+            She saw him--fancy with what surprise--
+               Dragging a huge worm out of a hole!
+            'Twas of this same hero the proverb took form:
+            'Tis the early bird that catches the worm.
+
+
+“There, mother!” said Diamond, as he finished; “ain't it funny?”
+
+“I wish you were like that little bird, Diamond, and could catch worms
+for yourself,” said his mother, as she rose to go and look after her
+husband.
+
+Diamond lay awake for a few minutes, thinking what he could do to catch
+worms. It was very little trouble to make up his mind, however, and
+still less to go to sleep after it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV. ANOTHER EARLY BIRD
+
+
+HE GOT up in the morning as soon as he heard the men moving in the yard.
+He tucked in his little brother so that he could not tumble out of bed,
+and then went out, leaving the door open, so that if he should cry his
+mother might hear him at once. When he got into the yard he found the
+stable-door just opened.
+
+“I'm the early bird, I think,” he said to himself. “I hope I shall catch
+the worm.”
+
+He would not ask any one to help him, fearing his project might meet
+with disapproval and opposition. With great difficulty, but with the
+help of a broken chair he brought down from his bedroom, he managed to
+put the harness on Diamond. If the old horse had had the least objection
+to the proceeding, of course he could not have done it; but even when it
+came to the bridle, he opened his mouth for the bit, just as if he had
+been taking the apple which Diamond sometimes gave him. He fastened the
+cheek-strap very carefully, just in the usual hole, for fear of choking
+his friend, or else letting the bit get amongst his teeth. It was a job
+to get the saddle on; but with the chair he managed it. If old Diamond
+had had an education in physics to equal that of the camel, he would
+have knelt down to let him put it on his back, but that was more than
+could be expected of him, and then Diamond had to creep quite under him
+to get hold of the girth. The collar was almost the worst part of the
+business; but there Diamond could help Diamond. He held his head very
+low till his little master had got it over and turned it round, and
+then he lifted his head, and shook it on to his shoulders. The yoke was
+rather difficult; but when he had laid the traces over the horse's neck,
+the weight was not too much for him. He got him right at last, and led
+him out of the stable.
+
+By this time there were several of the men watching him, but they would
+not interfere, they were so anxious to see how he would get over the
+various difficulties. They followed him as far as the stable-door, and
+there stood watching him again as he put the horse between the shafts,
+got them up one after the other into the loops, fastened the traces, the
+belly-band, the breeching, and the reins.
+
+Then he got his whip. The moment he mounted the box, the men broke into
+a hearty cheer of delight at his success. But they would not let him go
+without a general inspection of the harness; and although they found it
+right, for not a buckle had to be shifted, they never allowed him to do
+it for himself again all the time his father was ill.
+
+The cheer brought his mother to the window, and there she saw her little
+boy setting out alone with the cab in the gray of morning. She tugged at
+the window, but it was stiff; and before she could open it, Diamond, who
+was in a great hurry, was out of the mews, and almost out of the street.
+She called “Diamond! Diamond!” but there was no answer except from Jack.
+
+“Never fear for him, ma'am,” said Jack. “It 'ud be only a devil as would
+hurt him, and there ain't so many o' them as some folk 'ud have you
+believe. A boy o' Diamond's size as can 'arness a 'oss t'other Diamond's
+size, and put him to, right as a trivet--if he do upset the keb--'ll
+fall on his feet, ma'am.”
+
+“But he won't upset the cab, will he, Jack?”
+
+“Not he, ma'am. Leastways he won't go for to do it.”
+
+“I know as much as that myself. What do you mean?”
+
+“I mean he's a little likely to do it as the oldest man in the stable.
+How's the gov'nor to-day, ma'am?”
+
+“A good deal better, thank you,” she answered, closing the window in
+some fear lest her husband should have been made anxious by the news
+of Diamond's expedition. He knew pretty well, however, what his boy
+was capable of, and although not quite easy was less anxious than
+his mother. But as the evening drew on, the anxiety of both of them
+increased, and every sound of wheels made his father raise himself in
+his bed, and his mother peep out of the window.
+
+Diamond had resolved to go straight to the cab-stand where he was best
+known, and never to crawl for fear of getting annoyed by idlers. Before
+he got across Oxford Street, however, he was hailed by a man who wanted
+to catch a train, and was in too great a hurry to think about the
+driver. Having carried him to King's Cross in good time, and got a good
+fare in return, he set off again in great spirits, and reached the stand
+in safety. He was the first there after all.
+
+As the men arrived they all greeted him kindly, and inquired after his
+father.
+
+“Ain't you afraid of the old 'oss running away with you?” asked one.
+
+“No, he wouldn't run away with me,” answered Diamond. “He knows I'm
+getting the shillings for father. Or if he did he would only run home.”
+
+“Well, you're a plucky one, for all your girl's looks!” said the man;
+“and I wish ye luck.”
+
+“Thank you, sir,” said Diamond. “I'll do what I can. I came to the old
+place, you see, because I knew you would let me have my turn here.”
+
+In the course of the day one man did try to cut him out, but he was a
+stranger; and the shout the rest of them raised let him see it would not
+do, and made him so far ashamed besides, that he went away crawling.
+
+Once, in a block, a policeman came up to him, and asked him for his
+number. Diamond showed him his father's badge, saying with a smile:
+
+“Father's ill at home, and so I came out with the cab. There's no fear
+of me. I can drive. Besides, the old horse could go alone.”
+
+“Just as well, I daresay. You're a pair of 'em. But you are a rum 'un
+for a cabby--ain't you now?” said the policeman. “I don't know as I
+ought to let you go.”
+
+“I ain't done nothing,” said Diamond. “It's not my fault I'm no bigger.
+I'm big enough for my age.”
+
+“That's where it is,” said the man. “You ain't fit.”
+
+“How do you know that?” asked Diamond, with his usual smile, and turning
+his head like a little bird.
+
+“Why, how are you to get out of this ruck now, when it begins to move?”
+
+“Just you get up on the box,” said Diamond, “and I'll show you. There,
+that van's a-moving now. Jump up.”
+
+The policeman did as Diamond told him, and was soon satisfied that the
+little fellow could drive.
+
+“Well,” he said, as he got down again, “I don't know as I should be
+right to interfere. Good luck to you, my little man!”
+
+“Thank you, sir,” said Diamond, and drove away.
+
+In a few minutes a gentleman hailed him.
+
+“Are you the driver of this cab?” he asked.
+
+“Yes, sir” said Diamond, showing his badge, of which, he was proud.
+
+“You're the youngest cabman I ever saw. How am I to know you won't break
+all my bones?”
+
+“I would rather break all my own,” said Diamond. “But if you're afraid,
+never mind me; I shall soon get another fare.”
+
+“I'll risk it,” said the gentleman; and, opening the door himself, he
+jumped in.
+
+He was going a good distance, and soon found that Diamond got him over
+the ground well. Now when Diamond had only to go straight ahead, and had
+not to mind so much what he was about, his thoughts always turned to the
+riddle Mr. Raymond had set him; and this gentleman looked so clever that
+he fancied he must be able to read it for him. He had given up all hope
+of finding it out for himself, and he could not plague his father about
+it when he was ill. He had thought of the answer himself, but fancied it
+could not be the right one, for to see how it all fitted required some
+knowledge of physiology. So, when he reached the end of his journey, he
+got down very quickly, and with his head just looking in at the window,
+said, as the gentleman gathered his gloves and newspapers:
+
+“Please, sir, can you tell me the meaning of a riddle?”
+
+“You must tell me the riddle first,” answered the gentleman, amused.
+
+Diamond repeated the riddle.
+
+“Oh! that's easy enough,” he returned. “It's a tree.”
+
+“Well, it ain't got no mouth, sure enough; but how then does it eat all
+day long?”
+
+“It sucks in its food through the tiniest holes in its leaves,” he
+answered. “Its breath is its food. And it can't do it except in the
+daylight.”
+
+“Thank you, sir, thank you,” returned Diamond. “I'm sorry I couldn't
+find it out myself; Mr. Raymond would have been better pleased with me.”
+
+“But you needn't tell him any one told you.”
+
+Diamond gave him a stare which came from the very back of the north
+wind, where that kind of thing is unknown.
+
+“That would be cheating,” he said at last.
+
+“Ain't you a cabby, then?”
+
+“Cabbies don't cheat.”
+
+“Don't they? I am of a different opinion.”
+
+“I'm sure my father don't.”
+
+“What's your fare, young innocent?”
+
+“Well, I think the distance is a good deal over three miles--that's two
+shillings. Only father says sixpence a mile is too little, though we
+can't ask for more.”
+
+“You're a deep one. But I think you're wrong. It's over four miles--not
+much, but it is.”
+
+“Then that's half-a-crown,” said Diamond.
+
+“Well, here's three shillings. Will that do?”
+
+“Thank you kindly, sir. I'll tell my father how good you were to
+me--first to tell me my riddle, then to put me right about the distance,
+and then to give me sixpence over. It'll help father to get well again,
+it will.”
+
+“I hope it may, my man. I shouldn't wonder if you're as good as you
+look, after all.”
+
+As Diamond returned, he drew up at a stand he had never been on before:
+it was time to give Diamond his bag of chopped beans and oats. The men
+got about him, and began to chaff him. He took it all good-humouredly,
+until one of them, who was an ill-conditioned fellow, began to tease old
+Diamond by poking him roughly in the ribs, and making general game of
+him. That he could not bear, and the tears came in his eyes. He undid
+the nose-bag, put it in the boot, and was just going to mount and drive
+away, when the fellow interfered, and would not let him get up. Diamond
+endeavoured to persuade him, and was very civil, but he would have his
+fun out of him, as he said. In a few minutes a group of idle boys had
+assembled, and Diamond found himself in a very uncomfortable position.
+Another cab drew up at the stand, and the driver got off and approached
+the assemblage.
+
+“What's up here?” he asked, and Diamond knew the voice. It was that of
+the drunken cabman.
+
+“Do you see this young oyster? He pretends to drive a cab,” said his
+enemy.
+
+“Yes, I do see him. And I sees you too. You'd better leave him alone. He
+ain't no oyster. He's a angel come down on his own business. You be off,
+or I'll be nearer you than quite agreeable.”
+
+The drunken cabman was a tall, stout man, who did not look one to take
+liberties with.
+
+“Oh! if he's a friend of yours,” said the other, drawing back.
+
+Diamond got out the nose-bag again. Old Diamond should have his feed out
+now.
+
+“Yes, he is a friend o' mine. One o' the best I ever had. It's a pity
+he ain't a friend o' yourn. You'd be the better for it, but it ain't no
+fault of hisn.”
+
+When Diamond went home at night, he carried with him one pound one
+shilling and sixpence, besides a few coppers extra, which had followed
+some of the fares.
+
+His mother had got very anxious indeed--so much so that she was almost
+afraid, when she did hear the sound of his cab, to go and look, lest
+she should be yet again disappointed, and should break down before her
+husband. But there was the old horse, and there was the cab all right,
+and there was Diamond in the box, his pale face looking triumphant as a
+full moon in the twilight.
+
+When he drew up at the stable-door, Jack came out, and after a good many
+friendly questions and congratulations, said:
+
+“You go in to your mother, Diamond. I'll put up the old 'oss. I'll take
+care on him. He do deserve some small attention, he do.”
+
+“Thank you, Jack,” said Diamond, and bounded into the house, and into
+the arms of his mother, who was waiting him at the top of the stair.
+
+The poor, anxious woman led him into his own room, sat down on his bed,
+took him on her lap as if he had been a baby, and cried.
+
+“How's father?” asked Diamond, almost afraid to ask.
+
+“Better, my child,” she answered, “but uneasy about you, my dear.”
+
+“Didn't you tell him I was the early bird gone out to catch the worm?”
+
+“That was what put it in your head, was it, you monkey?” said his
+mother, beginning to get better.
+
+“That or something else,” answered Diamond, so very quietly that his
+mother held his head back and stared in his face.
+
+“Well! of all the children!” she said, and said no more.
+
+“And here's my worm,” resumed Diamond.
+
+But to see her face as he poured the shillings and sixpences and pence
+into her lap! She burst out crying a second time, and ran with the money
+to her husband.
+
+And how pleased he was! It did him no end of good. But while he was
+counting the coins, Diamond turned to baby, who was lying awake in his
+cradle, sucking his precious thumb, and took him up, saying:
+
+“Baby, baby! I haven't seen you for a whole year.”
+
+And then he began to sing to him as usual. And what he sang was this,
+for he was too happy either to make a song of his own or to sing sense.
+It was one out of Mr. Raymond's book.
+
+
+THE TRUE STORY OF THE CAT AND THE FIDDLE
+
+               Hey, diddle, diddle!
+               The cat and the fiddle!
+            He played such a merry tune,
+               That the cow went mad
+               With the pleasure she had,
+            And jumped right over the moon.
+               But then, don't you see?
+               Before that could be,
+            The moon had come down and listened.
+               The little dog hearkened,
+               So loud that he barkened,
+            “There's nothing like it, there isn't.”
+
+               Hey, diddle, diddle!
+               Went the cat and the fiddle,
+            Hey diddle, diddle, dee, dee!
+               The dog laughed at the sport
+               Till his cough cut him short,
+            It was hey diddle, diddle, oh me!
+               And back came the cow
+               With a merry, merry low,
+            For she'd humbled the man in the moon.
+               The dish got excited,
+               The spoon was delighted,
+            And the dish waltzed away with the spoon.
+
+               But the man in the moon,
+               Coming back too soon
+            From the famous town of Norwich,
+               Caught up the dish,
+               Said, “It's just what I wish
+            To hold my cold plum-porridge!”
+                Gave the cow a rat-tat,
+               Flung water on the cat,
+            And sent him away like a rocket.
+               Said, “O Moon there you are!”
+                Got into her car,
+            And went off with the spoon in his pocket
+
+               Hey ho!  diddle, diddle!
+               The wet cat and wet fiddle,
+            They made such a caterwauling,
+               That the cow in a fright
+               Stood bolt upright
+            Bellowing now, and bawling;
+               And the dog on his tail,
+               Stretched his neck with a wail.
+            But “Ho! ho!” said the man in the moon--
+               “No more in the South
+               Shall I burn my mouth,
+            For I've found a dish and a spoon.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV. DIAMOND'S DREAM
+
+
+“THERE, baby!” said Diamond; “I'm so happy that I can only sing
+nonsense. Oh, father, think if you had been a poor man, and hadn't had a
+cab and old Diamond! What should I have done?”
+
+“I don't know indeed what you could have done,” said his father from the
+bed.
+
+“We should have all starved, my precious Diamond,” said his mother,
+whose pride in her boy was even greater than her joy in the shillings.
+Both of them together made her heart ache, for pleasure can do that as
+well as pain.
+
+“Oh no! we shouldn't,” said Diamond. “I could have taken Nanny's
+crossing till she came back; and then the money, instead of going for
+Old Sal's gin, would have gone for father's beef-tea. I wonder what
+Nanny will do when she gets well again. Somebody else will be sure to
+have taken the crossing by that time. I wonder if she will fight for it,
+and whether I shall have to help her. I won't bother my head about that.
+Time enough yet! Hey diddle! hey diddle! hey diddle diddle! I wonder
+whether Mr. Raymond would take me to see Nanny. Hey diddle! hey diddle!
+hey diddle diddle! The baby and fiddle! O, mother, I'm such a silly!
+But I can't help it. I wish I could think of something else, but there's
+nothing will come into my head but hey diddle diddle! the cat and the
+fiddle! I wonder what the angels do--when they're extra happy, you
+know--when they've been driving cabs all day and taking home the money
+to their mothers. Do you think they ever sing nonsense, mother?”
+
+“I daresay they've got their own sort of it,” answered his mother,
+“else they wouldn't be like other people.” She was thinking more of her
+twenty-one shillings and sixpence, and of the nice dinner she would get
+for her sick husband next day, than of the angels and their nonsense,
+when she said it. But Diamond found her answer all right.
+
+“Yes, to be sure,” he replied. “They wouldn't be like other people
+if they hadn't their nonsense sometimes. But it must be very pretty
+nonsense, and not like that silly hey diddle diddle! the cat and the
+fiddle! I wish I could get it out of my head. I wonder what the angels'
+nonsense is like. Nonsense is a very good thing, ain't it, mother?--a
+little of it now and then; more of it for baby, and not so much for
+grown people like cabmen and their mothers? It's like the pepper and
+salt that goes in the soup--that's it--isn't it, mother? There's baby
+fast asleep! Oh, what a nonsense baby it is--to sleep so much! Shall I
+put him down, mother?”
+
+Diamond chattered away. What rose in his happy little heart ran out
+of his mouth, and did his father and mother good. When he went to bed,
+which he did early, being more tired, as you may suppose, than usual, he
+was still thinking what the nonsense could be like which the angels
+sang when they were too happy to sing sense. But before coming to
+any conclusion he fell fast asleep. And no wonder, for it must be
+acknowledged a difficult question.
+
+That night he had a very curious dream which I think my readers would
+like to have told them. They would, at least, if they are as fond of
+nice dreams as I am, and don't have enough of them of their own.
+
+He dreamed that he was running about in the twilight in the old garden.
+He thought he was waiting for North Wind, but she did not come. So he
+would run down to the back gate, and see if she were there. He ran and
+ran. It was a good long garden out of his dream, but in his dream it
+had grown so long and spread out so wide that the gate he wanted was
+nowhere. He ran and ran, but instead of coming to the gate found himself
+in a beautiful country, not like any country he had ever been in before.
+There were no trees of any size; nothing bigger in fact than hawthorns,
+which were full of may-blossom. The place in which they grew was wild
+and dry, mostly covered with grass, but having patches of heath. It
+extended on every side as far as he could see. But although it was so
+wild, yet wherever in an ordinary heath you might have expected furze
+bushes, or holly, or broom, there grew roses--wild and rare--all kinds.
+On every side, far and near, roses were glowing. There too was the
+gum-cistus, whose flowers fall every night and come again the next
+morning, lilacs and syringas and laburnums, and many shrubs besides,
+of which he did not know the names; but the roses were everywhere. He
+wandered on and on, wondering when it would come to an end. It was of no
+use going back, for there was no house to be seen anywhere. But he was
+not frightened, for you know Diamond was used to things that were
+rather out of the way. He threw himself down under a rose-bush, and fell
+asleep.
+
+He woke, not out of his dream, but into it, thinking he heard a child's
+voice, calling “Diamond, Diamond!” He jumped up, but all was still about
+him. The rose-bushes were pouring out their odours in clouds. He could
+see the scent like mists of the same colour as the rose, issuing like
+a slow fountain and spreading in the air till it joined the thin rosy
+vapour which hung over all the wilderness. But again came the voice
+calling him, and it seemed to come from over his head. He looked up, but
+saw only the deep blue sky full of stars--more brilliant, however, than
+he had seen them before; and both sky and stars looked nearer to the
+earth.
+
+While he gazed up, again he heard the cry. At the same moment he saw one
+of the biggest stars over his head give a kind of twinkle and jump,
+as if it went out and came in again. He threw himself on his back,
+and fixed his eyes upon it. Nor had he gazed long before it went out,
+leaving something like a scar in the blue. But as he went on gazing he
+saw a face where the star had been--a merry face, with bright eyes.
+The eyes appeared not only to see Diamond, but to know that Diamond had
+caught sight of them, for the face withdrew the same moment. Again came
+the voice, calling “Diamond, Diamond;” and in jumped the star to its
+place.
+
+Diamond called as loud as he could, right up into the sky:
+
+“Here's Diamond, down below you. What do you want him to do?”
+
+The next instant many of the stars round about that one went out, and
+many voices shouted from the sky,--
+
+“Come up; come up. We're so jolly! Diamond! Diamond!”
+
+This was followed by a peal of the merriest, kindliest laughter, and all
+the stars jumped into their places again.
+
+“How am I to come up?” shouted Diamond.
+
+“Go round the rose-bush. It's got its foot in it,” said the first voice.
+
+Diamond got up at once, and walked to the other side of the rose-bush.
+
+There he found what seemed the very opposite of what he wanted--a stair
+down into the earth. It was of turf and moss. It did not seem to promise
+well for getting into the sky, but Diamond had learned to look through
+the look of things. The voice must have meant that he was to go down
+this stair; and down this stair Diamond went, without waiting to think
+more about it.
+
+It was such a nice stair, so cool and soft--all the sides as well as the
+steps grown with moss and grass and ferns! Down and down Diamond went--a
+long way, until at last he heard the gurgling and splashing of a little
+stream; nor had he gone much farther before he met it--yes, met it
+coming up the stairs to meet him, running up just as naturally as if
+it had been doing the other thing. Neither was Diamond in the least
+surprised to see it pitching itself from one step to another as it
+climbed towards him: he never thought it was odd--and no more it was,
+there. It would have been odd here. It made a merry tune as it came, and
+its voice was like the laughter he had heard from the sky. This appeared
+promising; and he went on, down and down the stair, and up and up the
+stream, till at last he came where it hurried out from under a stone,
+and the stair stopped altogether. And as the stream bubbled up, the
+stone shook and swayed with its force; and Diamond thought he would try
+to lift it. Lightly it rose to his hand, forced up by the stream from
+below; and, by what would have seemed an unaccountable perversion of
+things had he been awake, threatened to come tumbling upon his head.
+But he avoided it, and when it fell, got upon it. He now saw that the
+opening through which the water came pouring in was over his head, and
+with the help of the stone he scrambled out by it, and found himself
+on the side of a grassy hill which rounded away from him in every
+direction, and down which came the brook which vanished in the hole.
+But scarcely had he noticed so much as this before a merry shouting and
+laughter burst upon him, and a number of naked little boys came running,
+every one eager to get to him first. At the shoulders of each fluttered
+two little wings, which were of no use for flying, as they were mere
+buds; only being made for it they could not help fluttering as if they
+were flying. Just as the foremost of the troop reached him, one or two
+of them fell, and the rest with shouts of laughter came tumbling over
+them till they heaped up a mound of struggling merriment. One after
+another they extricated themselves, and each as he got free threw his
+arms round Diamond and kissed him. Diamond's heart was ready to melt
+within him from clear delight. When they had all embraced him,--
+
+“Now let us have some fun,” cried one, and with a shout they all
+scampered hither and thither, and played the wildest gambols on the
+grassy slopes. They kept constantly coming back to Diamond, however, as
+the centre of their enjoyment, rejoicing over him as if they had found a
+lost playmate.
+
+There was a wind on the hillside which blew like the very embodiment
+of living gladness. It blew into Diamond's heart, and made him so happy
+that he was forced to sit down and cry.
+
+“Now let's go and dig for stars,” said one who seemed to be the captain
+of the troop.
+
+They all scurried away, but soon returned, one after another, each with
+a pickaxe on his shoulder and a spade in his hand. As soon as they were
+gathered, the captain led them in a straight line to another part of the
+hill. Diamond rose and followed.
+
+“Here is where we begin our lesson for to-night,” he said. “Scatter and
+dig.”
+
+There was no more fun. Each went by himself, walking slowly with bent
+shoulders and his eyes fixed on the ground. Every now and then one would
+stop, kneel down, and look intently, feeling with his hands and parting
+the grass. One would get up and walk on again, another spring to his
+feet, catch eagerly at his pickaxe and strike it into the ground once
+and again, then throw it aside, snatch up his spade, and commence
+digging at the loosened earth. Now one would sorrowfully shovel the
+earth into the hole again, trample it down with his little bare white
+feet, and walk on. But another would give a joyful shout, and after
+much tugging and loosening would draw from the hole a lump as big as his
+head, or no bigger than his fist; when the under side of it would pour
+such a blaze of golden or bluish light into Diamond's eyes that he was
+quite dazzled. Gold and blue were the commoner colours: the jubilation
+was greater over red or green or purple. And every time a star was
+dug up all the little angels dropped their tools and crowded about it,
+shouting and dancing and fluttering their wing-buds.
+
+When they had examined it well, they would kneel down one after the
+other and peep through the hole; but they always stood back to give
+Diamond the first look. All that diamond could report, however, was,
+that through the star-holes he saw a great many things and places and
+people he knew quite well, only somehow they were different--there was
+something marvellous about them--he could not tell what. Every time he
+rose from looking through a star-hole, he felt as if his heart would
+break for, joy; and he said that if he had not cried, he did not know
+what would have become of him.
+
+As soon as all had looked, the star was carefully fitted in again, a
+little mould was strewn over it, and the rest of the heap left as a sign
+that the star had been discovered.
+
+At length one dug up a small star of a most lovely colour--a colour
+Diamond had never seen before. The moment the angel saw what it was,
+instead of showing it about, he handed it to one of his neighbours, and
+seated himself on the edge of the hole, saying:
+
+“This will do for me. Good-bye. I'm off.”
+
+They crowded about him, hugging and kissing him; then stood back with a
+solemn stillness, their wings lying close to their shoulders. The little
+fellow looked round on them once with a smile, and then shot himself
+headlong through the star-hole. Diamond, as privileged, threw himself
+on the ground to peep after him, but he saw nothing. “It's no use,” said
+the captain. “I never saw anything more of one that went that way.”
+
+“His wings can't be much use,” said Diamond, concerned and fearful, yet
+comforted by the calm looks of the rest.
+
+“That's true,” said the captain. “He's lost them by this time. They all
+do that go that way. You haven't got any, you see.”
+
+“No,” said Diamond. “I never did have any.”
+
+“Oh! didn't you?” said the captain.
+
+“Some people say,” he added, after a pause, “that they come again. I
+don't know. I've never found the colour I care about myself. I suppose I
+shall some day.”
+
+Then they looked again at the star, put it carefully into its hole,
+danced around it and over it--but solemnly, and called it by the name of
+the finder.
+
+“Will you know it again?” asked Diamond.
+
+“Oh, yes. We never forget a star that's been made a door of.”
+
+Then they went on with their searching and digging.
+
+Diamond having neither pickaxe nor spade, had the more time to think.
+
+“I don't see any little girls,” he said at last.
+
+The captain stopped his shovelling, leaned on his spade, rubbed his
+forehead thoughtfully with his left hand--the little angels were all
+left-handed--repeated the words “little girls,” and then, as if a
+thought had struck him, resumed his work, saying--
+
+“I think I know what you mean. I've never seen any of them, of course;
+but I suppose that's the sort you mean. I'm told--but mind I don't say
+it is so, for I don't know--that when we fall asleep, a troop of angels
+very like ourselves, only quite different, goes round to all the stars
+we have discovered, and discovers them after us. I suppose with our
+shovelling and handling we spoil them a bit; and I daresay the clouds
+that come up from below make them smoky and dull sometimes. They
+say--mind, I say they say--these other angels take them out one by one,
+and pass each round as we do, and breathe over it, and rub it with
+their white hands, which are softer than ours, because they don't do any
+pick-and-spade work, and smile at it, and put it in again: and that is
+what keeps them from growing dark.”
+
+“How jolly!” thought Diamond. “I should like to see them at their work
+too.--When do you go to sleep?” he asked the captain.
+
+“When we grow sleepy,” answered the captain. “They do say--but mind I
+say they say--that it is when those others--what do you call them? I
+don't know if that is their name; I am only guessing that may be the
+sort you mean--when they are on their rounds and come near any troop of
+us we fall asleep. They live on the west side of the hill. None of us
+have ever been to the top of it yet.”
+
+Even as he spoke, he dropped his spade. He tumbled down beside it,
+and lay fast asleep. One after the other each of the troop dropped his
+pickaxe or shovel from his listless hands, and lay fast asleep by his
+work.
+
+“Ah!” thought Diamond to himself, with delight, “now the girl-angels are
+coming, and I, not being an angel, shall not fall asleep like the rest,
+and I shall see the girl-angels.”
+
+But the same moment he felt himself growing sleepy. He struggled hard
+with the invading power. He put up his fingers to his eyelids and pulled
+them open. But it was of no use. He thought he saw a glimmer of pale
+rosy light far up the green hill, and ceased to know.
+
+When he awoke, all the angels were starting up wide awake too. He
+expected to see them lift their tools, but no, the time for play had
+come. They looked happier than ever, and each began to sing where he
+stood. He had not heard them sing before.
+
+“Now,” he thought, “I shall know what kind of nonsense the angels sing
+when they are merry. They don't drive cabs, I see, but they dig for
+stars, and they work hard enough to be merry after it.”
+
+And he did hear some of the angels' nonsense; for if it was all sense to
+them, it had only just as much sense to Diamond as made good nonsense of
+it. He tried hard to set it down in his mind, listening as closely as
+he could, now to one, now to another, and now to all together. But
+while they were yet singing he began, to his dismay, to find that he was
+coming awake--faster and faster. And as he came awake, he found that,
+for all the goodness of his memory, verse after verse of the angels'
+nonsense vanished from it. He always thought he could keep the last,
+but as the next began he lost the one before it, and at length awoke,
+struggling to keep hold of the last verse of all. He felt as if the
+effort to keep from forgetting that one verse of the vanishing song
+nearly killed him. And yet by the time he was wide awake he could not be
+sure of that even. It was something like this:
+
+
+         White hands of whiteness
+           Wash the stars' faces,
+         Till glitter, glitter, glit, goes their brightness
+           Down to poor places.
+
+
+This, however, was so near sense that he thought it could not be really
+what they did sing.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI. DIAMOND TAKES A FARE THE WRONG WAY RIGHT
+
+
+THE next morning Diamond was up almost as early as before. He had
+nothing to fear from his mother now, and made no secret of what he was
+about. By the time he reached the stable, several of the men were there.
+They asked him a good many questions as to his luck the day before, and
+he told them all they wanted to know. But when he proceeded to harness
+the old horse, they pushed him aside with rough kindness, called him a
+baby, and began to do it all for him. So Diamond ran in and had another
+mouthful of tea and bread and butter; and although he had never been so
+tired as he was the night before, he started quite fresh this morning.
+It was a cloudy day, and the wind blew hard from the north--so hard
+sometimes that, perched on the box with just his toes touching the
+ground, Diamond wished that he had some kind of strap to fasten himself
+down with lest he should be blown away. But he did not really mind it.
+
+His head was full of the dream he had dreamed; but it did not make him
+neglect his work, for his work was not to dig stars but to drive old
+Diamond and pick up fares. There are not many people who can think about
+beautiful things and do common work at the same time. But then there are
+not many people who have been to the back of the north wind.
+
+There was not much business doing. And Diamond felt rather cold,
+notwithstanding his mother had herself put on his comforter and helped
+him with his greatcoat. But he was too well aware of his dignity to
+get inside his cab as some do. A cabman ought to be above minding the
+weather--at least so Diamond thought. At length he was called to a
+neighbouring house, where a young woman with a heavy box had to be taken
+to Wapping for a coast-steamer.
+
+He did not find it at all pleasant, so far east and so near the river;
+for the roughs were in great force. However, there being no block, not
+even in Nightingale Lane, he reached the entrance of the wharf, and set
+down his passenger without annoyance. But as he turned to go back, some
+idlers, not content with chaffing him, showed a mind to the fare the
+young woman had given him. They were just pulling him off the box, and
+Diamond was shouting for the police, when a pale-faced man, in very
+shabby clothes, but with the look of a gentleman somewhere about him,
+came up, and making good use of his stick, drove them off.
+
+“Now, my little man,” he said, “get on while you can. Don't lose any
+time. This is not a place for you.”
+
+But Diamond was not in the habit of thinking only of himself. He saw
+that his new friend looked weary, if not ill, and very poor.
+
+“Won't you jump in, sir?” he said. “I will take you wherever you like.”
+
+“Thank you, my man; but I have no money; so I can't.”
+
+“Oh! I don't want any money. I shall be much happier if you will get in.
+You have saved me all I had. I owe you a lift, sir.”
+
+“Which way are you going?”
+
+“To Charing Cross; but I don't mind where I go.”
+
+“Well, I am very tired. If you will take me to Charing Cross, I shall be
+greatly obliged to you. I have walked from Gravesend, and had hardly a
+penny left to get through the tunnel.”
+
+So saying, he opened the door and got in, and Diamond drove away.
+
+But as he drove, he could not help fancying he had seen the
+gentleman--for Diamond knew he was a gentleman--before. Do all he could,
+however, he could not recall where or when. Meantime his fare, if we may
+call him such, seeing he was to pay nothing, whom the relief of being
+carried had made less and less inclined to carry himself, had been
+turning over things in his mind, and, as they passed the Mint, called to
+Diamond, who stopped the horse, got down and went to the window.
+
+“If you didn't mind taking me to Chiswick, I should be able to pay you
+when we got there. It's a long way, but you shall have the whole fare
+from the Docks--and something over.”
+
+“Very well, sir” said Diamond. “I shall be most happy.”
+
+He was just clambering up again, when the gentleman put his head out of
+the window and said--
+
+“It's The Wilderness--Mr. Coleman's place; but I'll direct you when we
+come into the neighbourhood.”
+
+It flashed upon Diamond who he was. But he got upon his box to arrange
+his thoughts before making any reply.
+
+The gentleman was Mr. Evans, to whom Miss Coleman was to have been
+married, and Diamond had seen him several times with her in the garden.
+I have said that he had not behaved very well to Miss Coleman. He had
+put off their marriage more than once in a cowardly fashion, merely
+because he was ashamed to marry upon a small income, and live in a
+humble way. When a man thinks of what people will say in such a case, he
+may love, but his love is but a poor affair. Mr. Coleman took him
+into the firm as a junior partner, and it was in a measure through his
+influence that he entered upon those speculations which ruined him. So
+his love had not been a blessing. The ship which North Wind had sunk was
+their last venture, and Mr. Evans had gone out with it in the hope
+of turning its cargo to the best advantage. He was one of the single
+boat-load which managed to reach a desert island, and he had gone
+through a great many hardships and sufferings since then. But he was
+not past being taught, and his troubles had done him no end of good, for
+they had made him doubt himself, and begin to think, so that he had come
+to see that he had been foolish as well as wicked. For, if he had had
+Miss Coleman with him in the desert island, to build her a hut, and hunt
+for her food, and make clothes for her, he would have thought himself
+the most fortunate of men; and when he was at home, he would not marry
+till he could afford a man-servant. Before he got home again, he had
+even begun to understand that no man can make haste to be rich without
+going against the will of God, in which case it is the one frightful
+thing to be successful. So he had come back a more humble man, and
+longing to ask Miss Coleman to forgive him. But he had no idea what
+ruin had fallen upon them, for he had never made himself thoroughly
+acquainted with the firm's affairs. Few speculative people do know their
+own affairs. Hence he never doubted he should find matters much as he
+left them, and expected to see them all at The Wilderness as before. But
+if he had not fallen in with Diamond, he would not have thought of going
+there first.
+
+What was Diamond to do? He had heard his father and mother drop
+some remarks concerning Mr. Evans which made him doubtful of him. He
+understood that he had not been so considerate as he might have been.
+So he went rather slowly till he should make up his mind. It was, of
+course, of no use to drive Mr. Evans to Chiswick. But if he should tell
+him what had befallen them, and where they lived now, he might put off
+going to see them, and he was certain that Miss Coleman, at least, must
+want very much to see Mr. Evans. He was pretty sure also that the best
+thing in any case was to bring them together, and let them set matters
+right for themselves.
+
+The moment he came to this conclusion, he changed his course from
+westward to northward, and went straight for Mr. Coleman's poor little
+house in Hoxton. Mr. Evans was too tired and too much occupied with his
+thoughts to take the least notice of the streets they passed through,
+and had no suspicion, therefore, of the change of direction.
+
+By this time the wind had increased almost to a hurricane, and as they
+had often to head it, it was no joke for either of the Diamonds. The
+distance, however, was not great. Before they reached the street where
+Mr. Coleman lived it blew so tremendously, that when Miss Coleman, who
+was going out a little way, opened the door, it dashed against the wall
+with such a bang, that she was afraid to venture, and went in again.
+In five minutes after, Diamond drew up at the door. As soon as he had
+entered the street, however, the wind blew right behind them, and when
+he pulled up, old Diamond had so much ado to stop the cab against it,
+that the breeching broke. Young Diamond jumped off his box, knocked
+loudly at the door, then turned to the cab and said--before Mr. Evans
+had quite begun to think something must be amiss:
+
+“Please, sir, my harness has given away. Would you mind stepping in here
+for a few minutes? They're friends of mine. I'll take you where you like
+after I've got it mended. I shan't be many minutes, but you can't stand
+in this wind.”
+
+Half stupid with fatigue and want of food, Mr. Evans yielded to the
+boy's suggestion, and walked in at the door which the maid held with
+difficulty against the wind. She took Mr. Evans for a visitor, as indeed
+he was, and showed him into the room on the ground-floor. Diamond, who
+had followed into the hall, whispered to her as she closed the door--
+
+“Tell Miss Coleman. It's Miss Coleman he wants to see.”
+
+“I don't know” said the maid. “He don't look much like a gentleman.”
+
+“He is, though; and I know him, and so does Miss Coleman.”
+
+The maid could not but remember Diamond, having seen him when he and his
+father brought the ladies home. So she believed him, and went to do what
+he told her.
+
+What passed in the little parlour when Miss Coleman came down does not
+belong to my story, which is all about Diamond. If he had known that
+Miss Coleman thought Mr. Evans was dead, perhaps he would have managed
+differently. There was a cry and a running to and fro in the house, and
+then all was quiet again.
+
+Almost as soon as Mr. Evans went in, the wind began to cease, and was
+now still. Diamond found that by making the breeching just a little
+tighter than was quite comfortable for the old horse he could do very
+well for the present; and, thinking it better to let him have his bag in
+this quiet place, he sat on the box till the old horse should have eaten
+his dinner. In a little while Mr. Evans came out, and asked him to come
+in. Diamond obeyed, and to his delight Miss Coleman put her arms round
+him and kissed him, and there was payment for him! Not to mention the
+five precious shillings she gave him, which he could not refuse because
+his mother wanted them so much at home for his father. He left them
+nearly as happy as they were themselves.
+
+The rest of the day he did better, and, although he had not so much
+to take home as the day before, yet on the whole the result was
+satisfactory. And what a story he had to tell his father and mother
+about his adventures, and how he had done, and what was the result! They
+asked him such a multitude of questions! some of which he could answer,
+and some of which he could not answer; and his father seemed ever so
+much better from finding that his boy was already not only useful to his
+family but useful to other people, and quite taking his place as a man
+who judged what was wise, and did work worth doing.
+
+For a fortnight Diamond went on driving his cab, and keeping his family.
+He had begun to be known about some parts of London, and people would
+prefer taking his cab because they liked what they heard of him. One
+gentleman who lived near the mews engaged him to carry him to the
+City every morning at a certain hour; and Diamond was punctual as
+clockwork--though to effect that required a good deal of care, for his
+father's watch was not much to be depended on, and had to be watched
+itself by the clock of St. George's church. Between the two, however, he
+did make a success of it.
+
+After that fortnight, his father was able to go out again. Then Diamond
+went to make inquiries about Nanny, and this led to something else.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII. THE CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL
+
+
+THE first day his father resumed his work, Diamond went with him as
+usual. In the afternoon, however, his father, having taken a fare to the
+neighbourhood, went home, and Diamond drove the cab the rest of the
+day. It was hard for old Diamond to do all the work, but they could
+not afford to have another horse. They contrived to save him as much as
+possible, and fed him well, and he did bravely.
+
+The next morning his father was so much stronger that Diamond thought he
+might go and ask Mr. Raymond to take him to see Nanny. He found him at
+home. His servant had grown friendly by this time, and showed him in
+without any cross-questioning. Mr. Raymond received him with his usual
+kindness, consented at once, and walked with him to the Hospital, which
+was close at hand. It was a comfortable old-fashioned house, built in
+the reign of Queen Anne, and in her day, no doubt, inhabited by rich and
+fashionable people: now it was a home for poor sick children, who were
+carefully tended for love's sake. There are regions in London where a
+hospital in every other street might be full of such children, whose
+fathers and mothers are dead, or unable to take care of them.
+
+When Diamond followed Mr. Raymond into the room where those children who
+had got over the worst of their illness and were growing better lay, he
+saw a number of little iron bedsteads, with their heads to the walls,
+and in every one of them a child, whose face was a story in itself.
+In some, health had begun to appear in a tinge upon the cheeks, and a
+doubtful brightness in the eyes, just as out of the cold dreary winter
+the spring comes in blushing buds and bright crocuses. In others there
+were more of the signs of winter left. Their faces reminded you of
+snow and keen cutting winds, more than of sunshine and soft breezes
+and butterflies; but even in them the signs of suffering told that the
+suffering was less, and that if the spring-time had but arrived, it had
+yet arrived.
+
+Diamond looked all round, but could see no Nanny. He turned to Mr.
+Raymond with a question in his eyes.
+
+“Well?” said Mr. Raymond.
+
+“Nanny's not here,” said Diamond.
+
+“Oh, yes, she is.”
+
+“I don't see her.”
+
+“I do, though. There she is.”
+
+He pointed to a bed right in front of where Diamond was standing.
+
+“That's not Nanny,” he said.
+
+“It is Nanny. I have seen her many times since you have. Illness makes a
+great difference.”
+
+“Why, that girl must have been to the back of the north wind!” thought
+Diamond, but he said nothing, only stared; and as he stared, something
+of the old Nanny began to dawn through the face of the new Nanny. The
+old Nanny, though a good girl, and a friendly girl, had been rough,
+blunt in her speech, and dirty in her person. Her face would always
+have reminded one who had already been to the back of the north wind
+of something he had seen in the best of company, but it had been coarse
+notwithstanding, partly from the weather, partly from her living amongst
+low people, and partly from having to defend herself: now it was so
+sweet, and gentle, and refined, that she might have had a lady and
+gentleman for a father and mother. And Diamond could not help thinking
+of words which he had heard in the church the day before: “Surely it is
+good to be afflicted;” or something like that. North Wind, somehow or
+other, must have had to do with her! She had grown from a rough girl
+into a gentle maiden.
+
+Mr. Raymond, however, was not surprised, for he was used to see
+such lovely changes--something like the change which passes upon the
+crawling, many-footed creature, when it turns sick and ill, and revives
+a butterfly, with two wings instead of many feet. Instead of her having
+to take care of herself, kind hands ministered to her, making her
+comfortable and sweet and clean, soothing her aching head, and giving
+her cooling drink when she was thirsty; and kind eyes, the stars of the
+kingdom of heaven, had shone upon her; so that, what with the fire of
+the fever and the dew of tenderness, that which was coarse in her had
+melted away, and her whole face had grown so refined and sweet that
+Diamond did not know her. But as he gazed, the best of the old face, all
+the true and good part of it, that which was Nanny herself, dawned upon
+him, like the moon coming out of a cloud, until at length, instead of
+only believing Mr. Raymond that this was she, he saw for himself that it
+was Nanny indeed--very worn but grown beautiful.
+
+He went up to her. She smiled. He had heard her laugh, but had never
+seen her smile before.
+
+“Nanny, do you know me?” said Diamond.
+
+She only smiled again, as if the question was amusing.
+
+She was not likely to forget him; for although she did not yet know
+it was he who had got her there, she had dreamed of him often, and had
+talked much about him when delirious. Nor was it much wonder, for he was
+the only boy except Joe who had ever shown her kindness.
+
+Meantime Mr. Raymond was going from bed to bed, talking to the little
+people. Every one knew him, and every one was eager to have a look, and
+a smile, and a kind word from him.
+
+Diamond sat down on a stool at the head of Nanny's bed. She laid her
+hand in his. No one else of her old acquaintance had been near her.
+
+Suddenly a little voice called aloud--
+
+“Won't Mr. Raymond tell us a story?”
+
+“Oh, yes, please do! please do!” cried several little voices which also
+were stronger than the rest. For Mr. Raymond was in the habit of telling
+them a story when he went to see them, and they enjoyed it far more than
+the other nice things which the doctor permitted him to give them.
+
+“Very well,” said Mr. Raymond, “I will. What sort of a story shall it
+be?”
+
+“A true story,” said one little girl.
+
+“A fairy tale,” said a little boy.
+
+“Well,” said Mr. Raymond, “I suppose, as there is a difference, I may
+choose. I can't think of any true story just at this moment, so I will
+tell you a sort of a fairy one.”
+
+“Oh, jolly!” exclaimed the little boy who had called out for a fairy
+tale.
+
+“It came into my head this morning as I got out of bed,” continued Mr.
+Raymond; “and if it turns out pretty well, I will write it down, and get
+somebody to print it for me, and then you shall read it when you like.”
+
+“Then nobody ever heard it before?” asked one older child.
+
+“No, nobody.”
+
+“Oh!” exclaimed several, thinking it very grand to have the first
+telling; and I daresay there might be a peculiar freshness about it,
+because everything would be nearly as new to the story-teller himself as
+to the listeners.
+
+Some were only sitting up and some were lying down, so there could not
+be the same busy gathering, bustling, and shifting to and fro with which
+children generally prepare themselves to hear a story; but their faces,
+and the turning of their heads, and many feeble exclamations of expected
+pleasure, showed that all such preparations were making within them.
+
+Mr. Raymond stood in the middle of the room, that he might turn from
+side to side, and give each a share of seeing him. Diamond kept his
+place by Nanny's side, with her hand in his. I do not know how much of
+Mr. Raymond's story the smaller children understood; indeed, I don't
+quite know how much there was in it to be understood, for in such a
+story every one has just to take what he can get. But they all listened
+with apparent satisfaction, and certainly with great attention. Mr.
+Raymond wrote it down afterwards, and here it is--somewhat altered no
+doubt, for a good story-teller tries to make his stories better every
+time he tells them. I cannot myself help thinking that he was somewhat
+indebted for this one to the old story of The Sleeping Beauty.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII. LITTLE DAYLIGHT
+
+
+NO HOUSE of any pretension to be called a palace is in the least worthy
+of the name, except it has a wood near it--very near it--and the nearer
+the better. Not all round it--I don't mean that, for a palace ought to
+be open to the sun and wind, and stand high and brave, with weathercocks
+glittering and flags flying; but on one side of every palace there must
+be a wood. And there was a very grand wood indeed beside the palace of
+the king who was going to be Daylight's father; such a grand wood, that
+nobody yet had ever got to the other end of it. Near the house it was
+kept very trim and nice, and it was free of brushwood for a long way in;
+but by degrees it got wild, and it grew wilder, and wilder, and wilder,
+until some said wild beasts at last did what they liked in it. The king
+and his courtiers often hunted, however, and this kept the wild beasts
+far away from the palace.
+
+One glorious summer morning, when the wind and sun were out together,
+when the vanes were flashing and the flags frolicking against the blue
+sky, little Daylight made her appearance from somewhere--nobody could
+tell where--a beautiful baby, with such bright eyes that she might have
+come from the sun, only by and by she showed such lively ways that she
+might equally well have come out of the wind. There was great jubilation
+in the palace, for this was the first baby the queen had had, and there
+is as much happiness over a new baby in a palace as in a cottage.
+
+But there is one disadvantage of living near a wood: you do not know
+quite who your neighbours may be. Everybody knew there were in it
+several fairies, living within a few miles of the palace, who always had
+had something to do with each new baby that came; for fairies live
+so much longer than we, that they can have business with a good many
+generations of human mortals. The curious houses they lived in were well
+known also,--one, a hollow oak; another, a birch-tree, though nobody
+could ever find how that fairy made a house of it; another, a hut of
+growing trees intertwined, and patched up with turf and moss. But there
+was another fairy who had lately come to the place, and nobody even knew
+she was a fairy except the other fairies. A wicked old thing she was,
+always concealing her power, and being as disagreeable as she could,
+in order to tempt people to give her offence, that she might have the
+pleasure of taking vengeance upon them. The people about thought she was
+a witch, and those who knew her by sight were careful to avoid offending
+her. She lived in a mud house, in a swampy part of the forest.
+
+In all history we find that fairies give their remarkable gifts to
+prince or princess, or any child of sufficient importance in their eyes,
+always at the christening. Now this we can understand, because it is
+an ancient custom amongst human beings as well; and it is not hard to
+explain why wicked fairies should choose the same time to do unkind
+things; but it is difficult to understand how they should be able to
+do them, for you would fancy all wicked creatures would be powerless on
+such an occasion. But I never knew of any interference on the part of
+the wicked fairy that did not turn out a good thing in the end. What a
+good thing, for instance, it was that one princess should sleep for a
+hundred years! Was she not saved from all the plague of young men who
+were not worthy of her? And did she not come awake exactly at the right
+moment when the right prince kissed her? For my part, I cannot help
+wishing a good many girls would sleep till just the same fate overtook
+them. It would be happier for them, and more agreeable to their friends.
+
+Of course all the known fairies were invited to the christening. But the
+king and queen never thought of inviting an old witch.
+
+For the power of the fairies they have by nature; whereas a witch gets
+her power by wickedness. The other fairies, however, knowing the danger
+thus run, provided as well as they could against accidents from her
+quarter. But they could neither render her powerless, nor could they
+arrange their gifts in reference to hers beforehand, for they could not
+tell what those might be.
+
+Of course the old hag was there without being asked. Not to be asked
+was just what she wanted, that she might have a sort of reason for doing
+what she wished to do. For somehow even the wickedest of creatures likes
+a pretext for doing the wrong thing.
+
+Five fairies had one after the other given the child such gifts as each
+counted best, and the fifth had just stepped back to her place in the
+surrounding splendour of ladies and gentlemen, when, mumbling a laugh
+between her toothless gums, the wicked fairy hobbled out into the middle
+of the circle, and at the moment when the archbishop was handing the
+baby to the lady at the head of the nursery department of state affairs,
+addressed him thus, giving a bite or two to every word before she could
+part with it:
+
+“Please your Grace, I'm very deaf: would your Grace mind repeating the
+princess's name?”
+
+“With pleasure, my good woman,” said the archbishop, stooping to shout
+in her ear: “the infant's name is little Daylight.”
+
+“And little daylight it shall be,” cried the fairy, in the tone of a dry
+axle, “and little good shall any of her gifts do her. For I bestow upon
+her the gift of sleeping all day long, whether she will or not. Ha, ha!
+He, he! Hi, hi!”
+
+Then out started the sixth fairy, who, of course, the others had
+arranged should come after the wicked one, in order to undo as much as
+she might.
+
+“If she sleep all day,” she said, mournfully, “she shall, at least, wake
+all night.”
+
+“A nice prospect for her mother and me!” thought the poor king; for they
+loved her far too much to give her up to nurses, especially at night, as
+most kings and queens do--and are sorry for it afterwards.
+
+“You spoke before I had done,” said the wicked fairy. “That's against
+the law. It gives me another chance.”
+
+“I beg your pardon,” said the other fairies, all together.
+
+“She did. I hadn't done laughing,” said the crone. “I had only got to
+Hi, hi! and I had to go through Ho, ho! and Hu, hu! So I decree that if
+she wakes all night she shall wax and wane with its mistress, the moon.
+And what that may mean I hope her royal parents will live to see. Ho,
+ho! Hu, hu!”
+
+But out stepped another fairy, for they had been wise enough to keep two
+in reserve, because every fairy knew the trick of one.
+
+“Until,” said the seventh fairy, “a prince comes who shall kiss her
+without knowing it.”
+
+The wicked fairy made a horrid noise like an angry cat, and hobbled
+away. She could not pretend that she had not finished her speech this
+time, for she had laughed Ho, ho! and Hu, hu!
+
+“I don't know what that means,” said the poor king to the seventh fairy.
+
+“Don't be afraid. The meaning will come with the thing itself,” said
+she.
+
+The assembly broke up, miserable enough--the queen, at least, prepared
+for a good many sleepless nights, and the lady at the head of the
+nursery department anything but comfortable in the prospect before her,
+for of course the queen could not do it all. As for the king, he made up
+his mind, with what courage he could summon, to meet the demands of the
+case, but wondered whether he could with any propriety require the First
+Lord of the Treasury to take a share in the burden laid upon him.
+
+I will not attempt to describe what they had to go through for some
+time. But at last the household settled into a regular system--a very
+irregular one in some respects. For at certain seasons the palace rang
+all night with bursts of laughter from little Daylight, whose heart the
+old fairy's curse could not reach; she was Daylight still, only a little
+in the wrong place, for she always dropped asleep at the first hint of
+dawn in the east. But her merriment was of short duration. When the moon
+was at the full, she was in glorious spirits, and as beautiful as it was
+possible for a child of her age to be. But as the moon waned, she faded,
+until at last she was wan and withered like the poorest, sickliest child
+you might come upon in the streets of a great city in the arms of a
+homeless mother. Then the night was quiet as the day, for the little
+creature lay in her gorgeous cradle night and day with hardly a motion,
+and indeed at last without even a moan, like one dead. At first they
+often thought she was dead, but at last they got used to it, and only
+consulted the almanac to find the moment when she would begin to revive,
+which, of course, was with the first appearance of the silver thread of
+the crescent moon. Then she would move her lips, and they would give her
+a little nourishment; and she would grow better and better and better,
+until for a few days she was splendidly well. When well, she was always
+merriest out in the moonlight; but even when near her worst, she seemed
+better when, in warm summer nights, they carried her cradle out into
+the light of the waning moon. Then in her sleep she would smile the
+faintest, most pitiful smile.
+
+For a long time very few people ever saw her awake. As she grew older
+she became such a favourite, however, that about the palace there were
+always some who would contrive to keep awake at night, in order to be
+near her. But she soon began to take every chance of getting away from
+her nurses and enjoying her moonlight alone. And thus things went on
+until she was nearly seventeen years of age. Her father and mother had
+by that time got so used to the odd state of things that they had ceased
+to wonder at them. All their arrangements had reference to the state
+of the Princess Daylight, and it is amazing how things contrive to
+accommodate themselves. But how any prince was ever to find and deliver
+her, appeared inconceivable.
+
+As she grew older she had grown more and more beautiful, with the
+sunniest hair and the loveliest eyes of heavenly blue, brilliant and
+profound as the sky of a June day. But so much more painful and sad was
+the change as her bad time came on. The more beautiful she was in the
+full moon, the more withered and worn did she become as the moon waned.
+At the time at which my story has now arrived, she looked, when the moon
+was small or gone, like an old woman exhausted with suffering. This was
+the more painful that her appearance was unnatural; for her hair and
+eyes did not change. Her wan face was both drawn and wrinkled, and had
+an eager hungry look. Her skinny hands moved as if wishing, but unable,
+to lay hold of something. Her shoulders were bent forward, her chest
+went in, and she stooped as if she were eighty years old. At last she
+had to be put to bed, and there await the flow of the tide of life. But
+she grew to dislike being seen, still more being touched by any hands,
+during this season. One lovely summer evening, when the moon lay all but
+gone upon the verge of the horizon, she vanished from her attendants,
+and it was only after searching for her a long time in great terror,
+that they found her fast asleep in the forest, at the foot of a silver
+birch, and carried her home.
+
+A little way from the palace there was a great open glade, covered with
+the greenest and softest grass. This was her favourite haunt; for here
+the full moon shone free and glorious, while through a vista in the
+trees she could generally see more or less of the dying moon as it
+crossed the opening. Here she had a little rustic house built for her,
+and here she mostly resided. None of the court might go there without
+leave, and her own attendants had learned by this time not to be
+officious in waiting upon her, so that she was very much at liberty.
+Whether the good fairies had anything to do with it or not I cannot
+tell, but at last she got into the way of retreating further into the
+wood every night as the moon waned, so that sometimes they had great
+trouble in finding her; but as she was always very angry if she
+discovered they were watching her, they scarcely dared to do so. At
+length one night they thought they had lost her altogether. It was
+morning before they found her. Feeble as she was, she had wandered into
+a thicket a long way from the glade, and there she lay--fast asleep, of
+course.
+
+Although the fame of her beauty and sweetness had gone abroad, yet as
+everybody knew she was under a bad spell, no king in the neighbourhood
+had any desire to have her for a daughter-in-law. There were serious
+objections to such a relation.
+
+About this time in a neighbouring kingdom, in consequence of the
+wickedness of the nobles, an insurrection took place upon the death of
+the old king, the greater part of the nobility was massacred, and
+the young prince was compelled to flee for his life, disguised like a
+peasant. For some time, until he got out of the country, he suffered
+much from hunger and fatigue; but when he got into that ruled by the
+princess's father, and had no longer any fear of being recognised, he
+fared better, for the people were kind. He did not abandon his disguise,
+however. One tolerable reason was that he had no other clothes to put
+on, and another that he had very little money, and did not know where to
+get any more. There was no good in telling everybody he met that he
+was a prince, for he felt that a prince ought to be able to get on like
+other people, else his rank only made a fool of him. He had read of
+princes setting out upon adventure; and here he was out in similar case,
+only without having had a choice in the matter. He would go on, and see
+what would come of it.
+
+For a day or two he had been walking through the palace-wood, and had
+had next to nothing to eat, when he came upon the strangest little
+house, inhabited by a very nice, tidy, motherly old woman. This was one
+of the good fairies. The moment she saw him she knew quite well who
+he was and what was going to come of it; but she was not at liberty to
+interfere with the orderly march of events. She received him with the
+kindness she would have shown to any other traveller, and gave him bread
+and milk, which he thought the most delicious food he had ever tasted,
+wondering that they did not have it for dinner at the palace sometimes.
+The old woman pressed him to stay all night. When he awoke he was amazed
+to find how well and strong he felt. She would not take any of the money
+he offered, but begged him, if he found occasion of continuing in the
+neighbourhood, to return and occupy the same quarters.
+
+“Thank you much, good mother,” answered the prince; “but there is little
+chance of that. The sooner I get out of this wood the better.”
+
+“I don't know that,” said the fairy.
+
+“What do you mean?” asked the prince.
+
+“Why, how should I know?” returned she.
+
+“I can't tell,” said the prince.
+
+“Very well,” said the fairy.
+
+“How strangely you talk!” said the prince.
+
+“Do I?” said the fairy.
+
+“Yes, you do,” said the prince.
+
+“Very well,” said the fairy.
+
+The prince was not used to be spoken to in this fashion, so he felt a
+little angry, and turned and walked away. But this did not offend the
+fairy. She stood at the door of her little house looking after him till
+the trees hid him quite. Then she said “At last!” and went in.
+
+The prince wandered and wandered, and got nowhere. The sun sank and sank
+and went out of sight, and he seemed no nearer the end of the wood than
+ever. He sat down on a fallen tree, ate a bit of bread the old woman had
+given him, and waited for the moon; for, although he was not much of an
+astronomer, he knew the moon would rise some time, because she had risen
+the night before. Up she came, slow and slow, but of a good size, pretty
+nearly round indeed; whereupon, greatly refreshed with his piece of
+bread, he got up and went--he knew not whither.
+
+After walking a considerable distance, he thought he was coming to the
+outside of the forest; but when he reached what he thought the last of
+it, he found himself only upon the edge of a great open space in it,
+covered with grass. The moon shone very bright, and he thought he had
+never seen a more lovely spot. Still it looked dreary because of its
+loneliness, for he could not see the house at the other side. He sat
+down, weary again, and gazed into the glade. He had not seen so much
+room for several days.
+
+All at once he spied something in the middle of the grass. What could it
+be? It moved; it came nearer. Was it a human creature, gliding across--a
+girl dressed in white, gleaming in the moonshine? She came nearer and
+nearer. He crept behind a tree and watched, wondering. It must be some
+strange being of the wood--a nymph whom the moonlight and the warm
+dusky air had enticed from her tree. But when she came close to where
+he stood, he no longer doubted she was human--for he had caught sight of
+her sunny hair, and her clear blue eyes, and the loveliest face and form
+that he had ever seen. All at once she began singing like a nightingale,
+and dancing to her own music, with her eyes ever turned towards the
+moon. She passed close to where he stood, dancing on by the edge of the
+trees and away in a great circle towards the other side, until he could
+see but a spot of white in the yellowish green of the moonlit grass. But
+when he feared it would vanish quite, the spot grew, and became a figure
+once more. She approached him again, singing and dancing, and waving her
+arms over her head, until she had completed the circle. Just opposite
+his tree she stood, ceased her song, dropped her arms, and broke out
+into a long clear laugh, musical as a brook. Then, as if tired, she
+threw herself on the grass, and lay gazing at the moon. The prince was
+almost afraid to breathe lest he should startle her, and she should
+vanish from his sight. As to venturing near her, that never came into
+his head.
+
+She had lain for a long hour or longer, when the prince began again to
+doubt concerning her. Perhaps she was but a vision of his own fancy. Or
+was she a spirit of the wood, after all? If so, he too would haunt the
+wood, glad to have lost kingdom and everything for the hope of being
+near her. He would build him a hut in the forest, and there he would
+live for the pure chance of seeing her again. Upon nights like this at
+least she would come out and bask in the moonlight, and make his soul
+blessed. But while he thus dreamed she sprang to her feet, turned her
+face full to the moon, and began singing as she would draw her down from
+the sky by the power of her entrancing voice. She looked more beautiful
+than ever. Again she began dancing to her own music, and danced away
+into the distance. Once more she returned in a similar manner; but
+although he was watching as eagerly as before, what with fatigue and
+what with gazing, he fell fast asleep before she came near him. When he
+awoke it was broad daylight, and the princess was nowhere.
+
+He could not leave the place. What if she should come the next night! He
+would gladly endure a day's hunger to see her yet again: he would buckle
+his belt quite tight. He walked round the glade to see if he could
+discover any prints of her feet. But the grass was so short, and her
+steps had been so light, that she had not left a single trace behind
+her. He walked half-way round the wood without seeing anything to
+account for her presence. Then he spied a lovely little house, with
+thatched roof and low eaves, surrounded by an exquisite garden, with
+doves and peacocks walking in it. Of course this must be where the
+gracious lady who loved the moonlight lived. Forgetting his appearance,
+he walked towards the door, determined to make inquiries, but as he
+passed a little pond full of gold and silver fishes, he caught sight of
+himself and turned to find the door to the kitchen. There he knocked,
+and asked for a piece of bread. The good-natured cook brought him in,
+and gave him an excellent breakfast, which the prince found nothing the
+worse for being served in the kitchen. While he ate, he talked with
+his entertainer, and learned that this was the favourite retreat of
+the Princess Daylight. But he learned nothing more, both because he was
+afraid of seeming inquisitive, and because the cook did not choose to be
+heard talking about her mistress to a peasant lad who had begged for his
+breakfast.
+
+As he rose to take his leave, it occurred to him that he might not be
+so far from the old woman's cottage as he had thought, and he asked the
+cook whether she knew anything of such a place, describing it as well as
+he could. She said she knew it well enough, adding with a smile--
+
+“It's there you're going, is it?”
+
+“Yes, if it's not far off.”
+
+“It's not more than three miles. But mind what you are about, you know.”
+
+“Why do you say that?”
+
+“If you're after any mischief, she'll make you repent it.”
+
+“The best thing that could happen under the circumstances,” remarked the
+prince.
+
+“What do you mean by that?” asked the cook.
+
+“Why, it stands to reason,” answered the prince “that if you wish to do
+anything wrong, the best thing for you is to be made to repent of it.”
+
+“I see,” said the cook. “Well, I think you may venture. She's a good old
+soul.”
+
+“Which way does it lie from here?” asked the prince.
+
+She gave him full instructions; and he left her with many thanks.
+
+Being now refreshed, however, the prince did not go back to the cottage
+that day: he remained in the forest, amusing himself as best he could,
+but waiting anxiously for the night, in the hope that the princess would
+again appear. Nor was he disappointed, for, directly the moon rose, he
+spied a glimmering shape far across the glade. As it drew nearer, he saw
+it was she indeed--not dressed in white as before: in a pale blue like
+the sky, she looked lovelier still. He thought it was that the blue
+suited her yet better than the white; he did not know that she was
+really more beautiful because the moon was nearer the full. In fact the
+next night was full moon, and the princess would then be at the zenith
+of her loveliness.
+
+The prince feared for some time that she was not coming near his
+hiding-place that night; but the circles in her dance ever widened as
+the moon rose, until at last they embraced the whole glade, and she
+came still closer to the trees where he was hiding than she had come the
+night before. He was entranced with her loveliness, for it was indeed a
+marvellous thing. All night long he watched her, but dared not go near
+her. He would have been ashamed of watching her too, had he not become
+almost incapable of thinking of anything but how beautiful she was. He
+watched the whole night long, and saw that as the moon went down she
+retreated in smaller and smaller circles, until at last he could see her
+no more.
+
+Weary as he was, he set out for the old woman's cottage, where he
+arrived just in time for her breakfast, which she shared with him. He
+then went to bed, and slept for many hours. When he awoke the sun was
+down, and he departed in great anxiety lest he should lose a glimpse
+of the lovely vision. But, whether it was by the machinations of the
+swamp-fairy, or merely that it is one thing to go and another to return
+by the same road, he lost his way. I shall not attempt to describe his
+misery when the moon rose, and he saw nothing but trees, trees, trees.
+
+She was high in the heavens before he reached the glade. Then indeed
+his troubles vanished, for there was the princess coming dancing towards
+him, in a dress that shone like gold, and with shoes that glimmered
+through the grass like fireflies. She was of course still more beautiful
+than before. Like an embodied sunbeam she passed him, and danced away
+into the distance.
+
+Before she returned in her circle, the clouds had begun to gather about
+the moon. The wind rose, the trees moaned, and their lighter branches
+leaned all one way before it. The prince feared that the princess would
+go in, and he should see her no more that night. But she came dancing on
+more jubilant than ever, her golden dress and her sunny hair streaming
+out upon the blast, waving her arms towards the moon, and in the
+exuberance of her delight ordering the clouds away from off her face.
+The prince could hardly believe she was not a creature of the elements,
+after all.
+
+By the time she had completed another circle, the clouds had gathered
+deep, and there were growlings of distant thunder. Just as she passed
+the tree where he stood, a flash of lightning blinded him for a moment,
+and when he saw again, to his horror, the princess lay on the ground.
+He darted to her, thinking she had been struck; but when she heard him
+coming, she was on her feet in a moment.
+
+“What do you want?” she asked.
+
+“I beg your pardon. I thought--the lightning” said the prince,
+hesitating.
+
+“There's nothing the matter,” said the princess, waving him off rather
+haughtily.
+
+The poor prince turned and walked towards the wood.
+
+“Come back,” said Daylight: “I like you. You do what you are told. Are
+you good?”
+
+“Not so good as I should like to be,” said the prince.
+
+“Then go and grow better,” said the princess.
+
+Again the disappointed prince turned and went.
+
+“Come back,” said the princess.
+
+He obeyed, and stood before her waiting.
+
+“Can you tell me what the sun is like?” she asked.
+
+“No,” he answered. “But where's the good of asking what you know?”
+
+“But I don't know,” she rejoined.
+
+“Why, everybody knows.”
+
+“That's the very thing: I'm not everybody. I've never seen the sun.”
+
+“Then you can't know what it's like till you do see it.”
+
+“I think you must be a prince,” said the princess.
+
+“Do I look like one?” said the prince.
+
+“I can't quite say that.”
+
+“Then why do you think so?”
+
+“Because you both do what you are told and speak the truth.--Is the sun
+so very bright?”
+
+“As bright as the lightning.”
+
+“But it doesn't go out like that, does it?”
+
+“Oh, no. It shines like the moon, rises and sets like the moon, is much
+the same shape as the moon, only so bright that you can't look at it for
+a moment.”
+
+“But I would look at it,” said the princess.
+
+“But you couldn't,” said the prince.
+
+“But I could,” said the princess.
+
+“Why don't you, then?”
+
+“Because I can't.”
+
+“Why can't you?”
+
+“Because I can't wake. And I never shall wake until----”
+
+Here she hid her face in her hands, turned away, and walked in the
+slowest, stateliest manner towards the house. The prince ventured to
+follow her at a little distance, but she turned and made a repellent
+gesture, which, like a true gentleman-prince, he obeyed at once. He
+waited a long time, but as she did not come near him again, and as the
+night had now cleared, he set off at last for the old woman's cottage.
+
+It was long past midnight when he reached it, but, to his surprise, the
+old woman was paring potatoes at the door. Fairies are fond of doing odd
+things. Indeed, however they may dissemble, the night is always their
+day. And so it is with all who have fairy blood in them.
+
+“Why, what are you doing there, this time of the night, mother?” said
+the prince; for that was the kind way in which any young man in his
+country would address a woman who was much older than himself.
+
+“Getting your supper ready, my son,” she answered.
+
+“Oh, I don't want any supper,” said the prince.
+
+“Ah! you've seen Daylight,” said she.
+
+“I've seen a princess who never saw it,” said the prince.
+
+“Do you like her?” asked the fairy.
+
+“Oh! don't I?” said the prince. “More than you would believe, mother.”
+
+“A fairy can believe anything that ever was or ever could be,” said the
+old woman.
+
+“Then are you a fairy?” asked the prince.
+
+“Yes,” said she.
+
+“Then what do you do for things not to believe?” asked the prince.
+
+“There's plenty of them--everything that never was nor ever could be.”
+
+“Plenty, I grant you,” said the prince. “But do you believe there could
+be a princess who never saw the daylight? Do you believe that now?”
+
+This the prince said, not that he doubted the princess, but that he
+wanted the fairy to tell him more. She was too old a fairy, however, to
+be caught so easily.
+
+“Of all people, fairies must not tell secrets. Besides, she's a
+princess.”
+
+“Well, I'll tell you a secret. I'm a prince.”
+
+“I know that.”
+
+“How do you know it?”
+
+“By the curl of the third eyelash on your left eyelid.”
+
+“Which corner do you count from?”
+
+“That's a secret.”
+
+“Another secret? Well, at least, if I am a prince, there can be no harm
+in telling me about a princess.”
+
+“It's just the princes I can't tell.”
+
+“There ain't any more of them--are there?” said the prince.
+
+“What! you don't think you're the only prince in the world, do you?”
+
+“Oh, dear, no! not at all. But I know there's one too many just at
+present, except the princess----”
+
+“Yes, yes, that's it,” said the fairy.
+
+“What's it?” asked the prince.
+
+But he could get nothing more out of the fairy, and had to go to bed
+unanswered, which was something of a trial.
+
+Now wicked fairies will not be bound by the law which the good fairies
+obey, and this always seems to give the bad the advantage over the good,
+for they use means to gain their ends which the others will not. But it
+is all of no consequence, for what they do never succeeds; nay, in the
+end it brings about the very thing they are trying to prevent. So
+you see that somehow, for all their cleverness, wicked fairies are
+dreadfully stupid, for, although from the beginning of the world they
+have really helped instead of thwarting the good fairies, not one of
+them is a bit wiser for it. She will try the bad thing just as they all
+did before her; and succeeds no better of course.
+
+The prince had so far stolen a march upon the swamp-fairy that she
+did not know he was in the neighbourhood until after he had seen the
+princess those three times. When she knew it, she consoled herself by
+thinking that the princess must be far too proud and too modest for any
+young man to venture even to speak to her before he had seen her six
+times at least. But there was even less danger than the wicked fairy
+thought; for, however much the princess might desire to be set free, she
+was dreadfully afraid of the wrong prince. Now, however, the fairy was
+going to do all she could.
+
+She so contrived it by her deceitful spells, that the next night the
+prince could not by any endeavour find his way to the glade. It would
+take me too long to tell her tricks. They would be amusing to us, who
+know that they could not do any harm, but they were something other than
+amusing to the poor prince. He wandered about the forest till daylight,
+and then fell fast asleep. The same thing occurred for seven following
+days, during which neither could he find the good fairy's cottage. After
+the third quarter of the moon, however, the bad fairy thought she might
+be at ease about the affair for a fortnight at least, for there was no
+chance of the prince wishing to kiss the princess during that period.
+So the first day of the fourth quarter he did find the cottage, and the
+next day he found the glade. For nearly another week he haunted it. But
+the princess never came. I have little doubt she was on the farther
+edge of it some part of every night, but at this period she always wore
+black, and, there being little or no light, the prince never saw her.
+Nor would he have known her if he had seen her. How could he have
+taken the worn decrepit creature she was now, for the glorious Princess
+Daylight?
+
+At last, one night when there was no moon at all, he ventured near the
+house. There he heard voices talking, although it was past midnight; for
+her women were in considerable uneasiness, because the one whose turn it
+was to watch her had fallen asleep, and had not seen which way she went,
+and this was a night when she would probably wander very far, describing
+a circle which did not touch the open glade at all, but stretched away
+from the back of the house, deep into that side of the forest--a part
+of which the prince knew nothing. When he understood from what they said
+that she had disappeared, and that she must have gone somewhere in the
+said direction, he plunged at once into the wood to see if he could find
+her. For hours he roamed with nothing to guide him but the vague notion
+of a circle which on one side bordered on the house, for so much had he
+picked up from the talk he had overheard.
+
+It was getting towards the dawn, but as yet there was no streak of light
+in the sky, when he came to a great birch-tree, and sat down weary at
+the foot of it. While he sat--very miserable, you may be sure--full of
+fear for the princess, and wondering how her attendants could take it so
+quietly, he bethought himself that it would not be a bad plan to light
+a fire, which, if she were anywhere near, would attract her. This he
+managed with a tinder-box, which the good fairy had given him. It was
+just beginning to blaze up, when he heard a moan, which seemed to come
+from the other side of the tree. He sprung to his feet, but his heart
+throbbed so that he had to lean for a moment against the tree before he
+could move. When he got round, there lay a human form in a little dark
+heap on the earth. There was light enough from his fire to show that it
+was not the princess. He lifted it in his arms, hardly heavier than a
+child, and carried it to the flame. The countenance was that of an old
+woman, but it had a fearfully strange look. A black hood concealed her
+hair, and her eyes were closed. He laid her down as comfortably as he
+could, chafed her hands, put a little cordial from a bottle, also the
+gift of the fairy, into her mouth; took off his coat and wrapped it
+about her, and in short did the best he could. In a little while she
+opened her eyes and looked at him--so pitifully! The tears rose and
+flowed from her grey wrinkled cheeks, but she said never a word. She
+closed her eyes again, but the tears kept on flowing, and her whole
+appearance was so utterly pitiful that the prince was near crying too.
+He begged her to tell him what was the matter, promising to do all
+he could to help her; but still she did not speak. He thought she was
+dying, and took her in his arms again to carry her to the princess's
+house, where he thought the good-natured cook might be able to do
+something for her. When he lifted her, the tears flowed yet faster, and
+she gave such a sad moan that it went to his very heart.
+
+“Mother, mother!” he said. “Poor mother!” and kissed her on the withered
+lips.
+
+She started; and what eyes they were that opened upon him! But he did
+not see them, for it was still very dark, and he had enough to do to
+make his way through the trees towards the house.
+
+Just as he approached the door, feeling more tired than he could have
+imagined possible--she was such a little thin old thing--she began to
+move, and became so restless that, unable to carry her a moment longer,
+he thought to lay her on the grass. But she stood upright on her feet.
+Her hood had dropped, and her hair fell about her. The first gleam
+of the morning was caught on her face: that face was bright as the
+never-aging Dawn, and her eyes were lovely as the sky of darkest blue.
+The prince recoiled in overmastering wonder. It was Daylight herself
+whom he had brought from the forest! He fell at her feet, nor dared to
+look up until she laid her hand upon his head. He rose then.
+
+“You kissed me when I was an old woman: there! I kiss you when I am a
+young princess,” murmured Daylight.--“Is that the sun coming?”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX. RUBY
+
+
+THE children were delighted with the story, and made many amusing
+remarks upon it. Mr. Raymond promised to search his brain for another,
+and when he had found one to bring it to them. Diamond having taken
+leave of Nanny, and promised to go and see her again soon, went away
+with him.
+
+Now Mr. Raymond had been turning over in his mind what he could do both
+for Diamond and for Nanny. He had therefore made some acquaintance with
+Diamond's father, and had been greatly pleased with him. But he had come
+to the resolution, before he did anything so good as he would like to
+do for them, to put them all to a certain test. So as they walked away
+together, he began to talk with Diamond as follows:--
+
+“Nanny must leave the hospital soon, Diamond.”
+
+“I'm glad of that, sir.”
+
+“Why? Don't you think it's a nice place?”
+
+“Yes, very. But it's better to be well and doing something, you know,
+even if it's not quite so comfortable.”
+
+“But they can't keep Nanny so long as they would like. They can't keep
+her till she's quite strong. There are always so many sick children they
+want to take in and make better. And the question is, What will she do
+when they send her out again?”
+
+“That's just what I can't tell, though I've been thinking of it over and
+over, sir. Her crossing was taken long ago, and I couldn't bear to see
+Nanny fighting for it, especially with such a poor fellow as has taken
+it. He's quite lame, sir.”
+
+“She doesn't look much like fighting, now, does she, Diamond?”
+
+“No, sir. She looks too like an angel. Angels don't fight--do they,
+sir?”
+
+“Not to get things for themselves, at least,” said Mr. Raymond.
+
+“Besides,” added Diamond, “I don't quite see that she would have any
+better right to the crossing than the boy who has got it. Nobody gave it
+to her; she only took it. And now he has taken it.”
+
+“If she were to sweep a crossing--soon at least--after the illness she
+has had, she would be laid up again the very first wet day,” said Mr.
+Raymond.
+
+“And there's hardly any money to be got except on the wet days,”
+ remarked Diamond reflectively. “Is there nothing else she could do,
+sir?”
+
+“Not without being taught, I'm afraid.”
+
+“Well, couldn't somebody teach her something?”
+
+“Couldn't you teach her, Diamond?”
+
+“I don't know anything myself, sir. I could teach her to dress the
+baby; but nobody would give her anything for doing things like that:
+they are so easy. There wouldn't be much good in teaching her to drive
+a cab, for where would she get the cab to drive? There ain't fathers and
+old Diamonds everywhere. At least poor Nanny can't find any of them, I
+doubt.”
+
+“Perhaps if she were taught to be nice and clean, and only speak gentle
+words.”
+
+“Mother could teach her that,” interrupted Diamond.
+
+“And to dress babies, and feed them, and take care of them,” Mr. Raymond
+proceeded, “she might get a place as a nurse somewhere, you know. People
+do give money for that.”
+
+“Then I'll ask mother,” said Diamond.
+
+“But you'll have to give her her food then; and your father, not being
+strong, has enough to do already without that.”
+
+“But here's me,” said Diamond: “I help him out with it. When he's tired
+of driving, up I get. It don't make any difference to old Diamond. I
+don't mean he likes me as well as my father--of course he can't, you
+know--nobody could; but he does his duty all the same. It's got to be
+done, you know, sir; and Diamond's a good horse--isn't he, sir?”
+
+“From your description I should say certainly; but I have not the
+pleasure of his acquaintance myself.”
+
+“Don't you think he will go to heaven, sir?”
+
+“That I don't know anything about,” said Mr. Raymond. “I confess I
+should be glad to think so,” he added, smiling thoughtfully.
+
+“I'm sure he'll get to the back of the north wind, anyhow,” said Diamond
+to himself; but he had learned to be very careful of saying such things
+aloud.
+
+“Isn't it rather too much for him to go in the cab all day and every
+day?” resumed Mr. Raymond.
+
+“So father says, when he feels his ribs of a morning. But then he says
+the old horse do eat well, and the moment he's had his supper, down
+he goes, and never gets up till he's called; and, for the legs of him,
+father says that makes no end of a differ. Some horses, sir! they won't
+lie down all night long, but go to sleep on their four pins, like a
+haystack, father says. I think it's very stupid of them, and so does old
+Diamond. But then I suppose they don't know better, and so they can't
+help it. We mustn't be too hard upon them, father says.”
+
+“Your father must be a good man, Diamond.” Diamond looked up in Mr.
+Raymond's face, wondering what he could mean.
+
+“I said your father must be a good man, Diamond.”
+
+“Of course,” said Diamond. “How could he drive a cab if he wasn't?”
+
+“There are some men who drive cabs who are not very good,” objected Mr.
+Raymond.
+
+Diamond remembered the drunken cabman, and saw that his friend was
+right.
+
+“Ah, but,” he returned, “he must be, you know, with such a horse as old
+Diamond.”
+
+“That does make a difference,” said Mr. Raymond. “But it is quite enough
+that he is a good man without our trying to account for it. Now, if you
+like, I will give you a proof that I think him a good man. I am going
+away on the Continent for a while--for three months, I believe--and I
+am going to let my house to a gentleman who does not want the use of
+my brougham. My horse is nearly as old, I fancy, as your Diamond, but
+I don't want to part with him, and I don't want him to be idle; for
+nobody, as you say, ought to be idle; but neither do I want him to be
+worked very hard. Now, it has come into my head that perhaps your father
+would take charge of him, and work him under certain conditions.”
+
+“My father will do what's right,” said Diamond. “I'm sure of that.”
+
+“Well, so I think. Will you ask him when he comes home to call and have
+a little chat with me--to-day, some time?”
+
+“He must have his dinner first,” said Diamond. “No, he's got his dinner
+with him to-day. It must be after he's had his tea.”
+
+“Of course, of course. Any time will do. I shall be at home all day.”
+
+“Very well, sir. I will tell him. You may be sure he will come. My
+father thinks you a very kind gentleman, and I know he is right, for I
+know your very own self, sir.”
+
+Mr. Raymond smiled, and as they had now reached his door, they parted,
+and Diamond went home. As soon as his father entered the house, Diamond
+gave him Mr. Raymond's message, and recounted the conversation that had
+preceded it. His father said little, but took thought-sauce to his bread
+and butter, and as soon as he had finished his meal, rose, saying:
+
+“I will go to your friend directly, Diamond. It would be a grand thing
+to get a little more money. We do want it.” Diamond accompanied his
+father to Mr. Raymond's door, and there left him.
+
+He was shown at once into Mr. Raymond's study, where he gazed with
+some wonder at the multitude of books on the walls, and thought what a
+learned man Mr. Raymond must be.
+
+Presently Mr. Raymond entered, and after saying much the same about
+his old horse, made the following distinct proposal--one not
+over-advantageous to Diamond's father, but for which he had
+reasons--namely, that Joseph should have the use of Mr. Raymond's horse
+while he was away, on condition that he never worked him more than six
+hours a day, and fed him well, and that, besides, he should take Nanny
+home as soon as she was able to leave the hospital, and provide for her
+as one of his own children, neither better nor worse--so long, that is,
+as he had the horse.
+
+Diamond's father could not help thinking it a pretty close bargain. He
+should have both the girl and the horse to feed, and only six hours'
+work out of the horse.
+
+“It will save your own horse,” said Mr. Raymond.
+
+“That is true,” answered Joseph; “but all I can get by my own horse is
+only enough to keep us, and if I save him and feed your horse and the
+girl--don't you see, sir?”
+
+“Well, you can go home and think about it, and let me know by the end of
+the week. I am in no hurry before then.”
+
+So Joseph went home and recounted the proposal to his wife, adding that
+he did not think there was much advantage to be got out of it.
+
+“Not much that way, husband,” said Diamond's mother; “but there would be
+an advantage, and what matter who gets it!”
+
+“I don't see it,” answered her husband. “Mr. Raymond is a gentleman of
+property, and I don't discover any much good in helping him to save a
+little more. He won't easily get one to make such a bargain, and I
+don't mean he shall get me. It would be a loss rather than a gain--I do
+think--at least if I took less work out of our own horse.”
+
+“One hour would make a difference to old Diamond. But that's not the
+main point. You must think what an advantage it would be to the poor
+girl that hasn't a home to go to!”
+
+“She is one of Diamond's friends,” thought his father.
+
+“I could be kind to her, you know,” the mother went on, “and teach her
+housework, and how to handle a baby; and, besides, she would help
+me, and I should be the stronger for it, and able to do an odd bit of
+charing now and then, when I got the chance.”
+
+“I won't hear of that,” said her husband. “Have the girl by all means.
+I'm ashamed I did not think of both sides of the thing at once. I wonder
+if the horse is a great eater. To be sure, if I gave Diamond two hours'
+additional rest, it would be all the better for the old bones of him,
+and there would be four hours extra out of the other horse. That would
+give Diamond something to do every day. He could drive old Diamond after
+dinner, and I could take the other horse out for six hours after tea,
+or in the morning, as I found best. It might pay for the keep of both of
+them,--that is, if I had good luck. I should like to oblige Mr. Raymond,
+though he be rather hard, for he has been very kind to our Diamond,
+wife. Hasn't he now?”
+
+“He has indeed, Joseph,” said his wife, and there the conversation
+ended.
+
+Diamond's father went the very next day to Mr. Raymond, and accepted his
+proposal; so that the week after having got another stall in the same
+stable, he had two horses instead of one. Oddly enough, the name of the
+new horse was Ruby, for he was a very red chestnut. Diamond's name came
+from a white lozenge on his forehead. Young Diamond said they were rich
+now, with such a big diamond and such a big ruby.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX. NANNY'S DREAM
+
+
+NANNY was not fit to be moved for some time yet, and Diamond went to see
+her as often as he could. But being more regularly engaged now, seeing
+he went out every day for a few hours with old Diamond, and had his baby
+to mind, and one of the horses to attend to, he could not go so often as
+he would have liked.
+
+One evening, as he sat by her bedside, she said to him:
+
+“I've had such a beautiful dream, Diamond! I should like to tell it
+you.”
+
+“Oh! do,” said Diamond; “I am so fond of dreams!”
+
+“She must have been to the back of the north wind,” he said to himself.
+
+“It was a very foolish dream, you know. But somehow it was so pleasant!
+What a good thing it is that you believe the dream all the time you are
+in it!”
+
+My readers must not suppose that poor Nanny was able to say what she
+meant so well as I put it down here. She had never been to school, and
+had heard very little else than vulgar speech until she came to the
+hospital. But I have been to school, and although that could never make
+me able to dream so well as Nanny, it has made me able to tell her dream
+better than she could herself. And I am the more desirous of doing this
+for her that I have already done the best I could for Diamond's dream,
+and it would be a shame to give the boy all the advantage.
+
+“I will tell you all I know about it,” said Nanny. “The day before
+yesterday, a lady came to see us--a very beautiful lady, and very
+beautifully dressed. I heard the matron say to her that it was very
+kind of her to come in blue and gold; and she answered that she knew
+we didn't like dull colours. She had such a lovely shawl on, just like
+redness dipped in milk, and all worked over with flowers of the same
+colour. It didn't shine much, it was silk, but it kept in the shine.
+When she came to my bedside, she sat down, just where you are sitting,
+Diamond, and laid her hand on the counterpane. I was sitting up, with my
+table before me ready for my tea. Her hand looked so pretty in its blue
+glove, that I was tempted to stroke it. I thought she wouldn't be angry,
+for everybody that comes to the hospital is kind. It's only in the
+streets they ain't kind. But she drew her hand away, and I almost cried,
+for I thought I had been rude. Instead of that, however, it was only
+that she didn't like giving me her glove to stroke, for she drew it
+off, and then laid her hand where it was before. I wasn't sure, but I
+ventured to put out my ugly hand.”
+
+“Your hand ain't ugly, Nanny,” said Diamond; but Nanny went on--
+
+“And I stroked it again, and then she stroked mine,--think of that! And
+there was a ring on her finger, and I looked down to see what it was
+like. And she drew it off, and put it upon one of my fingers. It was a
+red stone, and she told me they called it a ruby.”
+
+“Oh, that is funny!” said Diamond. “Our new horse is called Ruby. We've
+got another horse--a red one--such a beauty!”
+
+But Nanny went on with her story.
+
+“I looked at the ruby all the time the lady was talking to me,--it was
+so beautiful! And as she talked I kept seeing deeper and deeper into the
+stone. At last she rose to go away, and I began to pull the ring off
+my finger; and what do you think she said?--'Wear it all night, if you
+like. Only you must take care of it. I can't give it you, for some one
+gave it to me; but you may keep it till to-morrow.' Wasn't it kind of
+her? I could hardly take my tea, I was so delighted to hear it; and I
+do think it was the ring that set me dreaming; for, after I had taken my
+tea, I leaned back, half lying and half sitting, and looked at the ring
+on my finger. By degrees I began to dream. The ring grew larger and
+larger, until at last I found that I was not looking at a red stone, but
+at a red sunset, which shone in at the end of a long street near where
+Grannie lives. I was dressed in rags as I used to be, and I had great
+holes in my shoes, at which the nasty mud came through to my feet. I
+didn't use to mind it before, but now I thought it horrid. And there was
+the great red sunset, with streaks of green and gold between, standing
+looking at me. Why couldn't I live in the sunset instead of in that
+dirt? Why was it so far away always? Why did it never come into our
+wretched street? It faded away, as the sunsets always do, and at last
+went out altogether. Then a cold wind began to blow, and flutter all my
+rags about----”
+
+“That was North Wind herself,” said Diamond.
+
+“Eh?” said Nanny, and went on with her story.
+
+“I turned my back to it, and wandered away. I did not know where I was
+going, only it was warmer to go that way. I don't think it was a north
+wind, for I found myself in the west end at last. But it doesn't matter
+in a dream which wind it was.”
+
+“I don't know that,” said Diamond. “I believe North Wind can get into
+our dreams--yes, and blow in them. Sometimes she has blown me out of a
+dream altogether.”
+
+“I don't know what you mean, Diamond,” said Nanny.
+
+“Never mind,” answered Diamond. “Two people can't always understand each
+other. They'd both be at the back of the north wind directly, and what
+would become of the other places without them?”
+
+“You do talk so oddly!” said Nanny. “I sometimes think they must have
+been right about you.”
+
+“What did they say about me?” asked Diamond.
+
+“They called you God's baby.”
+
+“How kind of them! But I knew that.”
+
+“Did you know what it meant, though? It meant that you were not right in
+the head.”
+
+“I feel all right,” said Diamond, putting both hands to his head, as if
+it had been a globe he could take off and set on again.
+
+“Well, as long as you are pleased I am pleased,” said Nanny.
+
+“Thank you, Nanny. Do go on with your story. I think I like dreams even
+better than fairy tales. But they must be nice ones, like yours, you
+know.”
+
+“Well, I went on, keeping my back to the wind, until I came to a fine
+street on the top of a hill. How it happened I don't know, but the front
+door of one of the houses was open, and not only the front door, but the
+back door as well, so that I could see right through the house--and
+what do you think I saw? A garden place with green grass, and the moon
+shining upon it! Think of that! There was no moon in the street, but
+through the house there was the moon. I looked and there was nobody
+near: I would not do any harm, and the grass was so much nicer than the
+mud! But I couldn't think of going on the grass with such dirty shoes: I
+kicked them off in the gutter, and ran in on my bare feet, up the steps,
+and through the house, and on to the grass; and the moment I came into
+the moonlight, I began to feel better.”
+
+“That's why North Wind blew you there,” said Diamond.
+
+“It came of Mr. Raymond's story about Princess Daylight,” returned
+Nanny. “Well, I lay down upon the grass in the moonlight without
+thinking how I was to get out again. Somehow the moon suited me exactly.
+There was not a breath of the north wind you talk about; it was quite
+gone.”
+
+“You didn't want her any more, just then. She never goes where she's not
+wanted,” said Diamond. “But she blew you into the moonlight, anyhow.”
+
+“Well, we won't dispute about it,” said Nanny: “you've got a tile loose,
+you know.”
+
+“Suppose I have,” returned Diamond, “don't you see it may let in the
+moonlight, or the sunlight for that matter?”
+
+“Perhaps yes, perhaps no,” said Nanny.
+
+“And you've got your dreams, too, Nanny.”
+
+“Yes, but I know they're dreams.”
+
+“So do I. But I know besides they are something more as well.”
+
+“Oh! do you?” rejoined Nanny. “I don't.”
+
+“All right,” said Diamond. “Perhaps you will some day.”
+
+“Perhaps I won't,” said Nanny.
+
+Diamond held his peace, and Nanny resumed her story.
+
+“I lay a long time, and the moonlight got in at every tear in my
+clothes, and made me feel so happy----”
+
+“There, I tell you!” said Diamond.
+
+“What do you tell me?” returned Nanny.
+
+“North Wind----”
+
+“It was the moonlight, I tell you,” persisted Nanny, and again Diamond
+held his peace.
+
+“All at once I felt that the moon was not shining so strong. I looked
+up, and there was a cloud, all crapey and fluffy, trying to drown the
+beautiful creature. But the moon was so round, just like a whole plate,
+that the cloud couldn't stick to her. She shook it off, and said there
+and shone out clearer and brighter than ever. But up came a thicker
+cloud,--and 'You shan't,' said the moon; and 'I will,' said the
+cloud,--but it couldn't: out shone the moon, quite laughing at its
+impudence. I knew her ways, for I've always been used to watch her.
+She's the only thing worth looking at in our street at night.”
+
+“Don't call it your street,” said Diamond. “You're not going back to it.
+You're coming to us, you know.”
+
+“That's too good to be true,” said Nanny.
+
+“There are very few things good enough to be true,” said Diamond; “but
+I hope this is. Too good to be true it can't be. Isn't true good? and
+isn't good good? And how, then, can anything be too good to be true?
+That's like old Sal--to say that.”
+
+“Don't abuse Grannie, Diamond. She's a horrid old thing, she and her gin
+bottle; but she'll repent some day, and then you'll be glad not to have
+said anything against her.”
+
+“Why?” said Diamond.
+
+“Because you'll be sorry for her.”
+
+“I am sorry for her now.”
+
+“Very well. That's right. She'll be sorry too. And there'll be an end of
+it.”
+
+“All right. You come to us,” said Diamond.
+
+“Where was I?” said Nanny.
+
+“Telling me how the moon served the clouds.”
+
+“Yes. But it wouldn't do, all of it. Up came the clouds and the clouds,
+and they came faster and faster, until the moon was covered up. You
+couldn't expect her to throw off a hundred of them at once--could you?”
+
+“Certainly not,” said Diamond.
+
+“So it grew very dark; and a dog began to yelp in the house. I
+looked and saw that the door to the garden was shut. Presently it was
+opened--not to let me out, but to let the dog in--yelping and bounding.
+I thought if he caught sight of me, I was in for a biting first, and the
+police after. So I jumped up, and ran for a little summer-house in the
+corner of the garden. The dog came after me, but I shut the door in his
+face. It was well it had a door--wasn't it?”
+
+“You dreamed of the door because you wanted it,” said Diamond.
+
+“No, I didn't; it came of itself. It was there, in the true dream.”
+
+“There--I've caught you!” said Diamond. “I knew you believed in the
+dream as much as I do.”
+
+“Oh, well, if you will lay traps for a body!” said Nanny. “Anyhow, I was
+safe inside the summer-house. And what do you think?--There was the moon
+beginning to shine again--but only through one of the panes--and that
+one was just the colour of the ruby. Wasn't it funny?”
+
+“No, not a bit funny,” said Diamond.
+
+“If you will be contrary!” said Nanny.
+
+“No, no,” said Diamond; “I only meant that was the very pane I should
+have expected her to shine through.”
+
+“Oh, very well!” returned Nanny.
+
+What Diamond meant, I do not pretend to say. He had curious notions
+about things.
+
+“And now,” said Nanny, “I didn't know what to do, for the dog kept
+barking at the door, and I couldn't get out. But the moon was so
+beautiful that I couldn't keep from looking at it through the red pane.
+And as I looked it got larger and larger till it filled the whole pane
+and outgrew it, so that I could see it through the other panes; and
+it grew till it filled them too and the whole window, so that the
+summer-house was nearly as bright as day.
+
+“The dog stopped barking, and I heard a gentle tapping at the door, like
+the wind blowing a little branch against it.”
+
+“Just like her,” said Diamond, who thought everything strange and
+beautiful must be done by North Wind.
+
+“So I turned from the window and opened the door; and what do you think
+I saw?”
+
+“A beautiful lady,” said Diamond.
+
+“No--the moon itself, as big as a little house, and as round as a ball,
+shining like yellow silver. It stood on the grass--down on the very
+grass: I could see nothing else for the brightness of it: And as I
+stared and wondered, a door opened in the side of it, near the ground,
+and a curious little old man, with a crooked thing over his shoulder,
+looked out, and said: 'Come along, Nanny; my lady wants you. We're come
+to fetch you.” I wasn't a bit frightened. I went up to the beautiful
+bright thing, and the old man held down his hand, and I took hold of it,
+and gave a jump, and he gave me a lift, and I was inside the moon. And
+what do you think it was like? It was such a pretty little house, with
+blue windows and white curtains! At one of the windows sat a beautiful
+lady, with her head leaning on her hand, looking out. She seemed rather
+sad, and I was sorry for her, and stood staring at her.
+
+“`You didn't think I had such a beautiful mistress as that!' said the
+queer little man. `No, indeed!' I answered: `who would have thought it?'
+`Ah! who indeed? But you see you don't know everything.' The little man
+closed the door, and began to pull at a rope which hung behind it with
+a weight at the end. After he had pulled a while, he said--`There, that
+will do; we're all right now.' Then he took me by the hand and opened a
+little trap in the floor, and led me down two or three steps, and I saw
+like a great hole below me. `Don't be frightened,' said the tittle
+man. `It's not a hole. It's only a window. Put your face down and
+look through.' I did as he told me, and there was the garden and the
+summer-house, far away, lying at the bottom of the moonlight. `There!'
+said the little man; `we've brought you off! Do you see the little
+dog barking at us down there in the garden?' I told him I couldn't see
+anything so far. `Can you see anything so small and so far off?' I said.
+`Bless you, child!' said the little man; `I could pick up a needle out
+of the grass if I had only a long enough arm. There's one lying by the
+door of the summer-house now.' I looked at his eyes. They were very
+small, but so bright that I think he saw by the light that went out of
+them. Then he took me up, and up again by a little stair in a corner of
+the room, and through another trapdoor, and there was one great round
+window above us, and I saw the blue sky and the clouds, and such lots of
+stars, all so big and shining as hard as ever they could!”
+
+“The little girl-angels had been polishing them,” said Diamond.
+
+“What nonsense you do talk!” said Nanny.
+
+“But my nonsense is just as good as yours, Nanny. When you have done,
+I'll tell you my dream. The stars are in it--not the moon, though. She
+was away somewhere. Perhaps she was gone to fetch you then. I don't
+think that, though, for my dream was longer ago than yours. She might
+have been to fetch some one else, though; for we can't fancy it's only
+us that get such fine things done for them. But do tell me what came
+next.”
+
+Perhaps one of my child-readers may remember whether the moon came down
+to fetch him or her the same night that Diamond had his dream. I cannot
+tell, of course. I know she did not come to fetch me, though I did think
+I could make her follow me when I was a boy--not a very tiny one either.
+
+“The little man took me all round the house, and made me look out of
+every window. Oh, it was beautiful! There we were, all up in the air, in
+such a nice, clean little house! `Your work will be to keep the windows
+bright,' said the little man. `You won't find it very difficult,
+for there ain't much dust up here. Only, the frost settles on them
+sometimes, and the drops of rain leave marks on them.' `I can easily
+clean them inside,' I said; `but how am I to get the frost and rain off
+the outside of them?' `Oh!' he said, `it's quite easy. There are ladders
+all about. You've only got to go out at the door, and climb about. There
+are a great many windows you haven't seen yet, and some of them look
+into places you don't know anything about. I used to clean them myself,
+but I'm getting rather old, you see. Ain't I now?' `I can't tell,' I
+answered. `You see I never saw you when you were younger.' `Never saw
+the man in the moon?' said he. `Not very near,' I answered, `not to tell
+how young or how old he looked. I have seen the bundle of sticks on his
+back.' For Jim had pointed that out to me. Jim was very fond of looking
+at the man in the moon. Poor Jim! I wonder he hasn't been to see me. I'm
+afraid he's ill too.”
+
+“I'll try to find out,” said Diamond, “and let you know.”
+
+“Thank you,” said Nanny. “You and Jim ought to be friends.”
+
+“But what did the man in the moon say, when you told him you had seen
+him with the bundle of sticks on his back?”
+
+“He laughed. But I thought he looked offended too. His little nose
+turned up sharper, and he drew the corners of his mouth down from the
+tips of his ears into his neck. But he didn't look cross, you know.”
+
+“Didn't he say anything?”
+
+“Oh, yes! He said: `That's all nonsense. What you saw was my bundle of
+dusters. I was going to clean the windows. It takes a good many, you
+know. Really, what they do say of their superiors down there!' `It's
+only because they don't know better,' I ventured to say. `Of course,
+of course,' said the little man. `Nobody ever does know better. Well,
+I forgive them, and that sets it all right, I hope.' `It's very good
+of you,' I said. `No!' said he, `it's not in the least good of me. I
+couldn't be comfortable otherwise.' After this he said nothing for a
+while, and I laid myself on the floor of his garret, and stared up and
+around at the great blue beautifulness. I had forgotten him almost,
+when at last he said: `Ain't you done yet?' `Done what?' I asked. `Done
+saying your prayers,' says he. 'I wasn't saying my prayers,' I answered.
+`Oh, yes, you were,' said he, `though you didn't know it! And now I must
+show you something else.'
+
+“He took my hand and led me down the stair again, and through a narrow
+passage, and through another, and another, and another. I don't know
+how there could be room for so many passages in such a little house. The
+heart of it must be ever so much farther from the sides than they are
+from each other. How could it have an inside that was so independent of
+its outside? There's the point. It was funny--wasn't it, Diamond?”
+
+“No,” said Diamond. He was going to say that that was very much the sort
+of thing at the back of the north wind; but he checked himself and only
+added, “All right. I don't see it. I don't see why the inside should
+depend on the outside. It ain't so with the crabs. They creep out of
+their outsides and make new ones. Mr. Raymond told me so.”
+
+“I don't see what that has got to do with it,” said Nanny.
+
+“Then go on with your story, please,” said Diamond. “What did you come
+to, after going through all those winding passages into the heart of the
+moon?”
+
+“I didn't say they were winding passages. I said they were long and
+narrow. They didn't wind. They went by corners.”
+
+“That's worth knowing,” remarked Diamond. “For who knows how soon he may
+have to go there? But the main thing is, what did you come to at last?”
+
+“We came to a small box against the wall of a tiny room. The little man
+told me to put my ear against it. I did so, and heard a noise something
+like the purring of a cat, only not so loud, and much sweeter. `What is
+it?' I asked. `Don't you know the sound?' returned the little man. `No,'
+I answered. `Don't you know the sound of bees?' he said. I had never
+heard bees, and could not know the sound of them. `Those are my lady's
+bees,' he went on. I had heard that bees gather honey from the flowers.
+`But where are the flowers for them?' I asked. `My lady's bees gather
+their honey from the sun and the stars,' said the little man. `Do let
+me see them,' I said. `No. I daren't do that,' he answered. `I have no
+business with them. I don't understand them. Besides, they are so bright
+that if one were to fly into your eye, it would blind you altogether.'
+`Then you have seen them?' `Oh, yes! Once or twice, I think. But I don't
+quite know: they are so very bright--like buttons of lightning. Now
+I've showed you all I can to-night, and we'll go back to the room.' I
+followed him, and he made me sit down under a lamp that hung from the
+roof, and gave me some bread and honey.
+
+“The lady had never moved. She sat with her forehead leaning on her
+hand, gazing out of the little window, hung like the rest with white
+cloudy curtains. From where I was sitting I looked out of it too, but I
+could see nothing. Her face was very beautiful, and very white, and very
+still, and her hand was as white as the forehead that leaned on it. I
+did not see her whole face--only the side of it, for she never moved to
+turn it full upon me, or even to look at me.
+
+“How long I sat after I had eaten my bread and honey, I don't know. The
+little man was busy about the room, pulling a string here, and a string
+there, but chiefly the string at the back of the door. I was thinking
+with some uneasiness that he would soon be wanting me to go out and
+clean the windows, and I didn't fancy the job. At last he came up to me
+with a great armful of dusters. `It's time you set about the windows,'
+he said; `for there's rain coming, and if they're quite clean before,
+then the rain can't spoil them.' I got up at once. `You needn't be
+afraid,' he said. `You won't tumble off. Only you must be careful.
+Always hold on with one hand while you rub with the other.' As he spoke,
+he opened the door. I started back in a terrible fright, for there was
+nothing but blue air to be seen under me, like a great water without a
+bottom at all. But what must be must, and to live up here was so much
+nicer than down in the mud with holes in my shoes, that I never thought
+of not doing as I was told. The little man showed me how and where to
+lay hold while I put my foot round the edge of the door on to the first
+round of a ladder. `Once you're up,' he said, `you'll see how you have
+to go well enough.' I did as he told me, and crept out very carefully.
+Then the little man handed me the bundle of dusters, saying, `I always
+carry them on my reaping hook, but I don't think you could manage it
+properly. You shall have it if you like.' I wouldn't take it, however,
+for it looked dangerous.
+
+“I did the best I could with the dusters, and crawled up to the top
+of the moon. But what a grand sight it was! The stars were all over my
+head, so bright and so near that I could almost have laid hold of them.
+The round ball to which I clung went bobbing and floating away through
+the dark blue above and below and on every side. It was so beautiful
+that all fear left me, and I set to work diligently. I cleaned window
+after window. At length I came to a very little one, in at which I
+peeped. There was the room with the box of bees in it! I laid my ear to
+the window, and heard the musical hum quite distinctly. A great longing
+to see them came upon me, and I opened the window and crept in.
+The little box had a door like a closet. I opened it--the tiniest
+crack--when out came the light with such a sting that I closed it again
+in terror--not, however, before three bees had shot out into the room,
+where they darted about like flashes of lightning. Terribly frightened,
+I tried to get out of the window again, but I could not: there was no
+way to the outside of the moon but through the door; and that was in
+the room where the lady sat. No sooner had I reached the room, than the
+three bees, which had followed me, flew at once to the lady, and settled
+upon her hair. Then first I saw her move. She started, put up her hand,
+and caught them; then rose and, having held them into the flame of the
+lamp one after the other, turned to me. Her face was not so sad now as
+stern. It frightened me much. `Nanny, you have got me into trouble,' she
+said. `You have been letting out my bees, which it is all I can do to
+manage. You have forced me to burn them. It is a great loss, and there
+will be a storm.' As she spoke, the clouds had gathered all about us. I
+could see them come crowding up white about the windows. `I am sorry to
+find,' said the lady, `that you are not to be trusted. You must go home
+again--you won't do for us.' Then came a great clap of thunder, and the
+moon rocked and swayed. All grew dark about me, and I fell on the floor
+and lay half-stunned. I could hear everything but could see nothing.
+`Shall I throw her out of the door, my lady?' said the little man.
+`No,' she answered; `she's not quite bad enough for that. I don't think
+there's much harm in her; only she'll never do for us. She would make
+dreadful mischief up here. She's only fit for the mud. It's a great
+pity. I am sorry for her. Just take that ring off her finger. I am sadly
+afraid she has stolen it.' The little man caught hold of my hand, and I
+felt him tugging at the ring. I tried to speak what was true about it,
+but, after a terrible effort, only gave a groan. Other things began to
+come into my head. Somebody else had a hold of me. The little man wasn't
+there. I opened my eyes at last, and saw the nurse. I had cried out in
+my sleep, and she had come and waked me. But, Diamond, for all it was
+only a dream, I cannot help being ashamed of myself yet for opening the
+lady's box of bees.”
+
+“You wouldn't do it again--would you--if she were to take you back?”
+ said Diamond.
+
+“No. I don't think anything would ever make me do it again. But where's
+the good? I shall never have the chance.”
+
+“I don't know that,” said Diamond.
+
+“You silly baby! It was only a dream,” said Nanny.
+
+“I know that, Nanny, dear. But how can you tell you mayn't dream it
+again?”
+
+“That's not a bit likely.”
+
+“I don't know that,” said Diamond.
+
+“You're always saying that,” said Nanny. “I don't like it.”
+
+“Then I won't say it again--if I don't forget.” said Diamond. “But it
+was such a beautiful dream!--wasn't it, Nanny? What a pity you opened
+that door and let the bees out! You might have had such a long dream,
+and such nice talks with the moon-lady. Do try to go again, Nanny. I do
+so want to hear more.”
+
+But now the nurse came and told him it was time to go; and Diamond went,
+saying to himself, “I can't help thinking that North Wind had something
+to do with that dream. It would be tiresome to lie there all day and all
+night too--without dreaming. Perhaps if she hadn't done that, the moon
+might have carried her to the back of the north wind--who knows?”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI. THE NORTH WIND DOTH BLOW
+
+
+IT WAS a great delight to Diamond when at length Nanny was well enough
+to leave the hospital and go home to their house. She was not very
+strong yet, but Diamond's mother was very considerate of her, and took
+care that she should have nothing to do she was not quite fit for. If
+Nanny had been taken straight from the street, it is very probable she
+would not have been so pleasant in a decent household, or so easy to
+teach; but after the refining influences of her illness and the kind
+treatment she had had in the hospital, she moved about the house just
+like some rather sad pleasure haunting the mind. As she got better, and
+the colour came back to her cheeks, her step grew lighter and quicker,
+her smile shone out more readily, and it became certain that she would
+soon be a treasure of help. It was great fun to see Diamond teaching
+her how to hold the baby, and wash and dress him, and often they laughed
+together over her awkwardness. But she had not many such lessons before
+she was able to perform those duties quite as well as Diamond himself.
+
+Things however did not go well with Joseph from the very arrival of
+Ruby. It almost seemed as if the red beast had brought ill luck with
+him. The fares were fewer, and the pay less. Ruby's services did indeed
+make the week's income at first a little beyond what it used to be, but
+then there were two more to feed. After the first month he fell lame,
+and for the whole of the next Joseph dared not attempt to work him. I
+cannot say that he never grumbled, for his own health was far from what
+it had been; but I can say that he tried to do his best. During all
+that month, they lived on very short commons indeed, seldom tasting meat
+except on Sundays, and poor old Diamond, who worked hardest of all, not
+even then--so that at the end of it he was as thin as a clothes-horse,
+while Ruby was as plump and sleek as a bishop's cob.
+
+Nor was it much better after Ruby was able to work again, for it was
+a season of great depression in business, and that is very soon felt
+amongst the cabmen. City men look more after their shillings, and their
+wives and daughters have less to spend. It was besides a wet autumn, and
+bread rose greatly in price. When I add to this that Diamond's mother
+was but poorly, for a new baby was coming, you will see that these were
+not very jolly times for our friends in the mews.
+
+Notwithstanding the depressing influences around him, Joseph was able to
+keep a little hope alive in his heart; and when he came home at night,
+would get Diamond to read to him, and would also make Nanny produce her
+book that he might see how she was getting on. For Diamond had taken her
+education in hand, and as she was a clever child, she was very soon able
+to put letters and words together.
+
+Thus the three months passed away, but Mr. Raymond did not return.
+Joseph had been looking anxiously for him, chiefly with the desire of
+getting rid of Ruby--not that he was absolutely of no use to him, but
+that he was a constant weight upon his mind. Indeed, as far as provision
+went, he was rather worse off with Ruby and Nanny than he had been
+before, but on the other hand, Nanny was a great help in the house, and
+it was a comfort to him to think that when the new baby did come, Nanny
+would be with his wife.
+
+Of God's gifts a baby is of the greatest; therefore it is no wonder that
+when this one came, she was as heartily welcomed by the little household
+as if she had brought plenty with her. Of course she made a great
+difference in the work to be done--far more difference than her size
+warranted, but Nanny was no end of help, and Diamond was as much of a
+sunbeam as ever, and began to sing to the new baby the first moment he
+got her in his arms. But he did not sing the same songs to her that he
+had sung to his brother, for, he said, she was a new baby and must have
+new songs; and besides, she was a sister-baby and not a brother-baby,
+and of course would not like the same kind of songs. Where the
+difference in his songs lay, however, I do not pretend to be able to
+point out. One thing I am sure of, that they not only had no small share
+in the education of the little girl, but helped the whole family a great
+deal more than they were aware.
+
+How they managed to get through the long dreary expensive winter, I can
+hardly say. Sometimes things were better, sometimes worse. But at last
+the spring came, and the winter was over and gone, and that was much.
+Still, Mr. Raymond did not return, and although the mother would have
+been able to manage without Nanny now, they could not look for a place
+for her so long as they had Ruby; and they were not altogether sorry for
+this. One week at last was worse than they had yet had. They were almost
+without bread before it was over. But the sadder he saw his father and
+mother looking, the more Diamond set himself to sing to the two babies.
+
+One thing which had increased their expenses was that they had been
+forced to hire another little room for Nanny. When the second baby came,
+Diamond gave up his room that Nanny might be at hand to help his mother,
+and went to hers, which, although a fine place to what she had been
+accustomed to, was not very nice in his eyes. He did not mind the change
+though, for was not his mother the more comfortable for it? And was
+not Nanny more comfortable too? And indeed was not Diamond himself more
+comfortable that other people were more comfortable? And if there was
+more comfort every way, the change was a happy one.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII. DIAMOND AND RUBY
+
+
+IT WAS Friday night, and Diamond, like the rest of the household, had
+had very little to eat that day. The mother would always pay the week's
+rent before she laid out anything even on food. His father had been very
+gloomy--so gloomy that he had actually been cross to his wife. It is
+a strange thing how pain of seeing the suffering of those we love will
+sometimes make us add to their suffering by being cross with them. This
+comes of not having faith enough in God, and shows how necessary this
+faith is, for when we lose it, we lose even the kindness which alone can
+soothe the suffering. Diamond in consequence had gone to bed very quiet
+and thoughtful--a little troubled indeed.
+
+It had been a very stormy winter, and even now that the spring had come,
+the north wind often blew. When Diamond went to his bed, which was in
+a tiny room in the roof, he heard it like the sea moaning; and when he
+fell asleep he still heard the moaning. All at once he said to himself,
+“Am I awake, or am I asleep?” But he had no time to answer the question,
+for there was North Wind calling him. His heart beat very fast, it was
+such a long time since he had heard that voice. He jumped out of bed,
+and looked everywhere, but could not see her. “Diamond, come here,” she
+said again and again; but where the here was he could not tell. To be
+sure the room was all but quite dark, and she might be close beside him.
+
+“Dear North Wind,” said Diamond, “I want so much to go to you, but I
+can't tell where.”
+
+“Come here, Diamond,” was all her answer.
+
+Diamond opened the door, and went out of the room, and down the stair
+and into the yard. His little heart was in a flutter, for he had long
+given up all thought of seeing her again. Neither now was he to see her.
+When he got out, a great puff of wind came against him, and in obedience
+to it he turned his back, and went as it blew. It blew him right up to
+the stable-door, and went on blowing.
+
+“She wants me to go into the stable,” said Diamond to himself, “but the
+door is locked.”
+
+He knew where the key was, in a certain hole in the wall--far too high
+for him to get at. He ran to the place, however: just as he reached it
+there came a wild blast, and down fell the key clanging on the stones at
+his feet. He picked it up, and ran back and opened the stable-door, and
+went in. And what do you think he saw?
+
+A little light came through the dusty window from a gas-lamp, sufficient
+to show him Diamond and Ruby with their two heads up, looking at each
+other across the partition of their stalls. The light showed the white
+mark on Diamond's forehead, but Ruby's eye shone so bright, that he
+thought more light came out of it than went in. This is what he saw.
+
+But what do you think he heard?
+
+He heard the two horses talking to each other--in a strange language,
+which yet, somehow or other, he could understand, and turn over in
+his mind in English. The first words he heard were from Diamond, who
+apparently had been already quarrelling with Ruby.
+
+“Look how fat you are Ruby!” said old Diamond. “You are so plump and
+your skin shines so, you ought to be ashamed of yourself.”
+
+“There's no harm in being fat,” said Ruby in a deprecating tone. “No,
+nor in being sleek. I may as well shine as not.”
+
+“No harm?” retorted Diamond. “Is it no harm to go eating up all poor
+master's oats, and taking up so much of his time grooming you, when you
+only work six hours--no, not six hours a day, and, as I hear, get along
+no faster than a big dray-horse with two tons behind him?--So they tell
+me.”
+
+“Your master's not mine,” said Ruby. “I must attend to my own master's
+interests, and eat all that is given me, and be sleek and fat as I can,
+and go no faster than I need.”
+
+“Now really if the rest of the horses weren't all asleep, poor
+things--they work till they're tired--I do believe they would get up and
+kick you out of the stable. You make me ashamed of being a horse. You
+dare to say my master ain't your master! That's your gratitude for the
+way he feeds you and spares you! Pray where would your carcass be if it
+weren't for him?”
+
+“He doesn't do it for my sake. If I were his own horse, he would work me
+as hard as he does you.”
+
+“And I'm proud to be so worked. I wouldn't be as fat as you--not for all
+you're worth. You're a disgrace to the stable. Look at the horse next
+you. He's something like a horse--all skin and bone. And his master
+ain't over kind to him either. He put a stinging lash on his whip
+last week. But that old horse knows he's got the wife and children
+to keep--as well as his drunken master--and he works like a horse. I
+daresay he grudges his master the beer he drinks, but I don't believe he
+grudges anything else.”
+
+“Well, I don't grudge yours what he gets by me,” said Ruby.
+
+“Gets!” retorted Diamond. “What he gets isn't worth grudging. It comes
+to next to nothing--what with your fat and shine.
+
+“Well, at least you ought to be thankful you're the better for it. You
+get a two hours' rest a day out of it.”
+
+“I thank my master for that--not you, you lazy fellow! You go along like
+a buttock of beef upon castors--you do.”
+
+“Ain't you afraid I'll kick, if you go on like that, Diamond?”
+
+“Kick! You couldn't kick if you tried. You might heave your rump up
+half a foot, but for lashing out--oho! If you did, you'd be down on your
+belly before you could get your legs under you again. It's my belief,
+once out, they'd stick out for ever. Talk of kicking! Why don't you put
+one foot before the other now and then when you're in the cab? The abuse
+master gets for your sake is quite shameful. No decent horse would bring
+it on him. Depend upon it, Ruby, no cabman likes to be abused any more
+than his fare. But his fares, at least when you are between the shafts,
+are very much to be excused. Indeed they are.”
+
+“Well, you see, Diamond, I don't want to go lame again.”
+
+“I don't believe you were so very lame after all--there!”
+
+“Oh, but I was.”
+
+“Then I believe it was all your own fault. I'm not lame. I never was
+lame in all my life. You don't take care of your legs. You never lay
+them down at night. There you are with your huge carcass crushing down
+your poor legs all night long. You don't even care for your own legs--so
+long as you can eat, eat, and sleep, sleep. You a horse indeed!”
+
+“But I tell you I was lame.”
+
+“I'm not denying there was a puffy look about your off-pastern. But my
+belief is, it wasn't even grease--it was fat.”
+
+“I tell you I put my foot on one of those horrid stones they make the
+roads with, and it gave my ankle such a twist.”
+
+“Ankle indeed! Why should you ape your betters? Horses ain't got any
+ankles: they're only pasterns. And so long as you don't lift your feet
+better, but fall asleep between every step, you'll run a good chance
+of laming all your ankles as you call them, one after another. It's not
+your lively horse that comes to grief in that way. I tell you I believe
+it wasn't much, and if it was, it was your own fault. There! I've done.
+I'm going to sleep. I'll try to think as well of you as I can. If you
+would but step out a bit and run off a little of your fat!” Here Diamond
+began to double up his knees; but Ruby spoke again, and, as young
+Diamond thought, in a rather different tone.
+
+“I say, Diamond, I can't bear to have an honest old horse like you think
+of me like that. I will tell you the truth: it was my own fault that I
+fell lame.”
+
+“I told you so,” returned the other, tumbling against the partition as
+he rolled over on his side to give his legs every possible privilege in
+their narrow circumstances.
+
+“I meant to do it, Diamond.”
+
+At the words, the old horse arose with a scramble like thunder, shot his
+angry head and glaring eye over into Ruby's stall, and said--
+
+“Keep out of my way, you unworthy wretch, or I'll bite you. You a horse!
+Why did you do that?”
+
+“Because I wanted to grow fat.”
+
+“You grease-tub! Oh! my teeth and tail! I thought you were a humbug! Why
+did you want to get fat? There's no truth to be got out of you but by
+cross-questioning. You ain't fit to be a horse.”
+
+“Because once I am fat, my nature is to keep fat for a long time; and I
+didn't know when master might come home and want to see me.”
+
+“You conceited, good-for-nothing brute! You're only fit for the
+knacker's yard. You wanted to look handsome, did you? Hold your tongue,
+or I'll break my halter and be at you--with your handsome fat!”
+
+“Never mind, Diamond. You're a good horse. You can't hurt me.”
+
+“Can't hurt you! Just let me once try.”
+
+“No, you can't.”
+
+“Why then?”
+
+“Because I'm an angel.”
+
+“What's that?”
+
+“Of course you don't know.”
+
+“Indeed I don't.”
+
+“I know you don't. An ignorant, rude old human horse, like you, couldn't
+know it. But there's young Diamond listening to all we're saying; and he
+knows well enough there are horses in heaven for angels to ride upon,
+as well as other animals, lions and eagles and bulls, in more important
+situations. The horses the angels ride, must be angel-horses, else the
+angels couldn't ride upon them. Well, I'm one of them.”
+
+“You ain't.”
+
+“Did you ever know a horse tell a lie?”
+
+“Never before. But you've confessed to shamming lame.”
+
+“Nothing of the sort. It was necessary I should grow fat, and necessary
+that good Joseph, your master, should grow lean. I could have pretended
+to be lame, but that no horse, least of all an angel-horse would do. So
+I must be lame, and so I sprained my ankle--for the angel-horses have
+ankles--they don't talk horse-slang up there--and it hurt me very much,
+I assure you, Diamond, though you mayn't be good enough to be able to
+believe it.”
+
+Old Diamond made no reply. He had lain down again, and a sleepy snort,
+very like a snore, revealed that, if he was not already asleep, he was
+past understanding a word that Ruby was saying. When young Diamond found
+this, he thought he might venture to take up the dropt shuttlecock of
+the conversation.
+
+“I'm good enough to believe it, Ruby,” he said.
+
+But Ruby never turned his head, or took any notice of him. I suppose
+he did not understand more of English than just what the coachman and
+stableman were in the habit of addressing him with. Finding, however,
+that his companion made no reply, he shot his head over the partition
+and looking down at him said--
+
+“You just wait till to-morrow, and you'll see whether I'm speaking the
+truth or not.--I declare the old horse is fast asleep!--Diamond!--No I
+won't.”
+
+Ruby turned away, and began pulling at his hayrack in silence.
+
+Diamond gave a shiver, and looking round saw that the door of the stable
+was open. He began to feel as if he had been dreaming, and after a
+glance about the stable to see if North Wind was anywhere visible, he
+thought he had better go back to bed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII. THE PROSPECT BRIGHTENS
+
+
+THE next morning, Diamond's mother said to his father, “I'm not quite
+comfortable about that child again.”
+
+“Which child, Martha?” asked Joseph. “You've got a choice now.”
+
+“Well, Diamond I mean. I'm afraid he's getting into his queer ways
+again. He's been at his old trick of walking in his sleep. I saw him run
+up the stair in the middle of the night.”
+
+“Didn't you go after him, wife?”
+
+“Of course I did--and found him fast asleep in his bed. It's because
+he's had so little meat for the last six weeks, I'm afraid.”
+
+“It may be that. I'm very sorry. But if it don't please God to send us
+enough, what am I to do, wife?”
+
+“You can't help it, I know, my dear good man,” returned Martha. “And
+after all I don't know. I don't see why he shouldn't get on as well as
+the rest of us. There I'm nursing baby all this time, and I get along
+pretty well. I'm sure, to hear the little man singing, you wouldn't
+think there was much amiss with him.”
+
+For at that moment Diamond was singing like a lark in the clouds. He had
+the new baby in his arms, while his mother was dressing herself. Joseph
+was sitting at his breakfast--a little weak tea, dry bread, and very
+dubious butter--which Nanny had set for him, and which he was enjoying
+because he was hungry. He had groomed both horses, and had got old
+Diamond harnessed ready to put to.
+
+“Think of a fat angel, Dulcimer!” said Diamond.
+
+The baby had not been christened yet, but Diamond, in reading his Bible,
+had come upon the word dulcimer, and thought it so pretty that ever
+after he called his sister Dulcimer!
+
+“Think of a red, fat angel, Dulcimer!” he repeated; “for Ruby's an angel
+of a horse, Dulcimer. He sprained his ankle and got fat on purpose.”
+
+“What purpose, Diamond?” asked his father.
+
+“Ah! that I can't tell. I suppose to look handsome when his master
+comes,” answered Diamond.--“What do you think, Dulcimer? It must be for
+some good, for Ruby's an angel.”
+
+“I wish I were rid of him, anyhow,” said his father; “for he weighs
+heavy on my mind.”
+
+“No wonder, father: he's so fat,” said Diamond. “But you needn't be
+afraid, for everybody says he's in better condition than when you had
+him.”
+
+“Yes, but he may be as thin as a tin horse before his owner comes. It
+was too bad to leave him on my hands this way.”
+
+“Perhaps he couldn't help it,” suggested Diamond. “I daresay he has some
+good reason for it.”
+
+“So I should have said,” returned his father, “if he had not driven such
+a hard bargain with me at first.”
+
+“But we don't know what may come of it yet, husband,” said his wife.
+“Mr. Raymond may give a little to boot, seeing you've had more of the
+bargain than you wanted or reckoned upon.”
+
+“I'm afraid not: he's a hard man,” said Joseph, as he rose and went to
+get his cab out.
+
+Diamond resumed his singing. For some time he carolled snatches of
+everything or anything; but at last it settled down into something like
+what follows. I cannot tell where or how he got it.
+
+
+            Where did you come from, baby dear?
+            Out of the everywhere into here.
+
+            Where did you get your eyes so blue?
+            Out of the sky as I came through.
+
+            What makes the light in them sparkle and spin?
+            Some of the starry spikes left in.
+
+            Where did you get that little tear?
+            I found it waiting when I got here.
+
+            What makes your forehead so smooth and high?
+            A soft hand stroked it as I went by.
+
+            What makes your cheek like a warm white rose?
+            I saw something better than any one knows.
+
+            Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss?
+            Three angels gave me at once a kiss.
+
+            Where did you get this pearly ear?
+            God spoke, and it came out to hear.
+
+            Where did you get those arms and hands?
+            Love made itself into hooks and bands.
+
+            Feet, whence did you come, you darling things?
+            From the same box as the cherubs' wings.
+
+            How did they all just come to be you?
+            God thought about me, and so I grew.
+
+            But how did you come to us, you dear?
+            God thought about you, and so I am here.
+
+“You never made that song, Diamond,” said his mother.
+
+“No, mother. I wish I had. No, I don't. That would be to take it from
+somebody else. But it's mine for all that.”
+
+“What makes it yours?”
+
+“I love it so.”
+
+“Does loving a thing make it yours?”
+
+“I think so, mother--at least more than anything else can. If I didn't
+love baby (which couldn't be, you know) she wouldn't be mine a bit. But
+I do love baby, and baby is my very own Dulcimer.”
+
+“The baby's mine, Diamond.”
+
+“That makes her the more mine, mother.”
+
+“How do you make that out?”
+
+“Because you're mine, mother.”
+
+“Is that because you love me?”
+
+“Yes, just because. Love makes the only myness,” said Diamond.
+
+When his father came home to have his dinner, and change Diamond for
+Ruby, they saw him look very sad, and he told them he had not had a fare
+worth mentioning the whole morning.
+
+“We shall all have to go to the workhouse, wife,” he said.
+
+“It would be better to go to the back of the north wind,” said Diamond,
+dreamily, not intending to say it aloud.
+
+“So it would,” answered his father. “But how are we to get there,
+Diamond?”
+
+“We must wait till we're taken,” returned Diamond.
+
+Before his father could speak again, a knock came to the door, and in
+walked Mr. Raymond with a smile on his face. Joseph got up and received
+him respectfully, but not very cordially. Martha set a chair for him,
+but he would not sit down.
+
+“You are not very glad to see me,” he said to Joseph. “You don't want to
+part with the old horse.”
+
+“Indeed, sir, you are mistaken there. What with anxiety about him, and
+bad luck, I've wished I were rid of him a thousand times. It was only to
+be for three months, and here it's eight or nine.”
+
+“I'm sorry to hear such a statement,” said Mr. Raymond. “Hasn't he been
+of service to you?”
+
+“Not much, not with his lameness”
+
+“Ah!” said Mr. Raymond, hastily--“you've been laming him--have you? That
+accounts for it. I see, I see.”
+
+“It wasn't my fault, and he's all right now. I don't know how it
+happened, but--”
+
+“He did it on purpose,” said Diamond. “He put his foot on a stone just
+to twist his ankle.”
+
+“How do you know that, Diamond?” said his father, turning to him. “I
+never said so, for I could not think how it came.”
+
+“I heard it--in the stable,” answered Diamond.
+
+“Let's have a look at him,” said Mr. Raymond.
+
+“If you'll step into the yard,” said Joseph, “I'll bring him out.”
+
+They went, and Joseph, having first taken off his harness, walked Ruby
+into the middle of the yard.
+
+“Why,” said Mr. Raymond, “you've not been using him well.”
+
+“I don't know what you mean by that, sir. I didn't expect to hear that
+from you. He's sound in wind and limb--as sound as a barrel.”
+
+“And as big, you might add. Why, he's as fat as a pig! You don't call
+that good usage!”
+
+Joseph was too angry to make any answer.
+
+“You've not worked him enough, I say. That's not making good use of him.
+That's not doing as you'd be done by.”
+
+“I shouldn't be sorry if I was served the same, sir.”
+
+“He's too fat, I say.”
+
+“There was a whole month I couldn't work him at all, and he did nothing
+but eat his head off. He's an awful eater. I've taken the best part of
+six hours a day out of him since, but I'm always afraid of his coming to
+grief again, and so I couldn't make the most even of that. I declare to
+you, sir, when he's between the shafts, I sit on the box as miserable as
+if I'd stolen him. He looks all the time as if he was a bottling up of
+complaints to make of me the minute he set eyes on you again. There!
+look at him now, squinting round at me with one eye! I declare to you,
+on my word, I haven't laid the whip on him more than three times.”
+
+“I'm glad to hear it. He never did want the whip.”
+
+“I didn't say that, sir. If ever a horse wanted the whip, he do. He's
+brought me to beggary almost with his snail's pace. I'm very glad you've
+come to rid me of him.”
+
+“I don't know that,” said Mr. Raymond. “Suppose I were to ask you to buy
+him of me--cheap.”
+
+“I wouldn't have him in a present, sir. I don't like him. And I wouldn't
+drive a horse that I didn't like--no, not for gold. It can't come to
+good where there's no love between 'em.”
+
+“Just bring out your own horse, and let me see what sort of a pair
+they'd make.”
+
+Joseph laughed rather bitterly as he went to fetch Diamond.
+
+When the two were placed side by side, Mr. Raymond could hardly keep
+his countenance, but from a mingling of feelings. Beside the great,
+red, round barrel, Ruby, all body and no legs, Diamond looked like a
+clothes-horse with a skin thrown over it. There was hardly a spot of
+him where you could not descry some sign of a bone underneath. Gaunt and
+grim and weary he stood, kissing his master, and heeding no one else.
+
+“You haven't been using him well,” said Mr. Raymond.
+
+“I must say,” returned Joseph, throwing an arm round his horse's neck,
+“that the remark had better have been spared, sir. The horse is worth
+three of the other now.”
+
+“I don't think so. I think they make a very nice pair. If the one's too
+fat, the other's too lean--so that's all right. And if you won't buy my
+Ruby, I must buy your Diamond.”
+
+“Thank you, sir,” said Joseph, in a tone implying anything but thanks.
+
+“You don't seem to like the proposal,” said Mr. Raymond.
+
+“I don't,” returned Joseph. “I wouldn't part with my old Diamond for his
+skin as full of nuggets as it is of bones.”
+
+“Who said anything about parting with him?”
+
+“You did now, sir.”
+
+“No; I didn't. I only spoke of buying him to make a pair with Ruby. We
+could pare Ruby and patch Diamond a bit. And for height, they are as
+near a match as I care about. Of course you would be the coachman--if
+only you would consent to be reconciled to Ruby.”
+
+Joseph stood bewildered, unable to answer.
+
+“I've bought a small place in Kent,” continued Mr. Raymond, “and I must
+have a pair to my carriage, for the roads are hilly thereabouts. I don't
+want to make a show with a pair of high-steppers. I think these will
+just do. Suppose, for a week or two, you set yourself to take Ruby down
+and bring Diamond up. If we could only lay a pipe from Ruby's sides into
+Diamond's, it would be the work of a moment. But I fear that wouldn't
+answer.”
+
+A strong inclination to laugh intruded upon Joseph's inclination to cry,
+and made speech still harder than before.
+
+“I beg your pardon, sir,” he said at length. “I've been so miserable,
+and for so long, that I never thought you was only a chaffing of me
+when you said I hadn't used the horses well. I did grumble at you, sir,
+many's the time in my trouble; but whenever I said anything, my little
+Diamond would look at me with a smile, as much as to say: 'I know him
+better than you, father;' and upon my word, I always thought the boy
+must be right.”
+
+“Will you sell me old Diamond, then?”
+
+“I will, sir, on one condition--that if ever you want to part with him
+or me, you give me the option of buying him. I could not part with him,
+sir. As to who calls him his, that's nothing; for, as Diamond says, it's
+only loving a thing that can make it yours--and I do love old Diamond,
+sir, dearly.”
+
+“Well, there's a cheque for twenty pounds, which I wrote to offer you
+for him, in case I should find you had done the handsome thing by Ruby.
+Will that be enough?”
+
+“It's too much, sir. His body ain't worth it--shoes and all. It's only
+his heart, sir--that's worth millions--but his heart'll be mine all the
+same--so it's too much, sir.”
+
+“I don't think so. It won't be, at least, by the time we've got him
+fed up again. You take it and welcome. Just go on with your cabbing for
+another month, only take it out of Ruby and let Diamond rest; and by
+that time I shall be ready for you to go down into the country.”
+
+“Thank you, sir, thank you. Diamond set you down for a friend, sir, the
+moment he saw you. I do believe that child of mine knows more than other
+people.”
+
+“I think so, too,” said Mr. Raymond as he walked away.
+
+He had meant to test Joseph when he made the bargain about Ruby, but had
+no intention of so greatly prolonging the trial. He had been taken ill
+in Switzerland, and had been quite unable to return sooner. He went away
+now highly gratified at finding that he had stood the test, and was a
+true man.
+
+Joseph rushed in to his wife who had been standing at the window
+anxiously waiting the result of the long colloquy. When she heard that
+the horses were to go together in double harness, she burst forth into
+an immoderate fit of laughter. Diamond came up with the baby in his arms
+and made big anxious eyes at her, saying--
+
+“What is the matter with you, mother dear? Do cry a little. It will do
+you good. When father takes ever so small a drop of spirits, he puts
+water to it.”
+
+“You silly darling!” said his mother; “how could I but laugh at the
+notion of that great fat Ruby going side by side with our poor old
+Diamond?”
+
+“But why not, mother? With a month's oats, and nothing to do, Diamond'll
+be nearer Ruby's size than you will father's. I think it's very good for
+different sorts to go together. Now Ruby will have a chance of teaching
+Diamond better manners.”
+
+“How dare you say such a thing, Diamond?” said his father, angrily.
+“To compare the two for manners, there's no comparison possible. Our
+Diamond's a gentleman.”
+
+“I don't mean to say he isn't, father; for I daresay some gentlemen
+judge their neighbours unjustly. That's all I mean. Diamond shouldn't
+have thought such bad things of Ruby. He didn't try to make the best of
+him.”
+
+“How do you know that, pray?”
+
+“I heard them talking about it one night.”
+
+“Who?”
+
+“Why Diamond and Ruby. Ruby's an angel.”
+
+Joseph stared and said no more. For all his new gladness, he was very
+gloomy as he re-harnessed the angel, for he thought his darling Diamond
+was going out of his mind.
+
+He could not help thinking rather differently, however, when he found
+the change that had come over Ruby. Considering his fat, he exerted
+himself amazingly, and got over the ground with incredible speed. So
+willing, even anxious, was he to go now, that Joseph had to hold him
+quite tight.
+
+Then as he laughed at his own fancies, a new fear came upon him lest the
+horse should break his wind, and Mr. Raymond have good cause to think
+he had not been using him well. He might even suppose that he had taken
+advantage of his new instructions, to let out upon the horse some of his
+pent-up dislike; whereas in truth, it had so utterly vanished that he
+felt as if Ruby, too, had been his friend all the time.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV. IN THE COUNTRY
+
+
+BEFORE the end of the month, Ruby had got respectably thin, and Diamond
+respectably stout. They really began to look fit for double harness.
+
+Joseph and his wife got their affairs in order, and everything ready for
+migrating at the shortest notice; and they felt so peaceful and happy
+that they judged all the trouble they had gone through well worth
+enduring. As for Nanny, she had been so happy ever since she left the
+hospital, that she expected nothing better, and saw nothing attractive
+in the notion of the country. At the same time, she had not the least
+idea of what the word country meant, for she had never seen anything
+about her but streets and gas-lamps. Besides, she was more attached to
+Jim than to Diamond: Jim was a reasonable being, Diamond in her eyes at
+best only an amiable, over-grown baby, whom no amount of expostulation
+would ever bring to talk sense, not to say think it. Now that she
+could manage the baby as well as he, she judged herself altogether his
+superior. Towards his father and mother, she was all they could wish.
+
+Diamond had taken a great deal of pains and trouble to find Jim, and had
+at last succeeded through the help of the tall policeman, who was glad
+to renew his acquaintance with the strange child. Jim had moved his
+quarters, and had not heard of Nanny's illness till some time after she
+was taken to the hospital, where he was too shy to go and inquire about
+her. But when at length she went to live with Diamond's family, Jim was
+willing enough to go and see her. It was after one of his visits, during
+which they had been talking of her new prospects, that Nanny expressed
+to Diamond her opinion of the country.
+
+“There ain't nothing in it but the sun and moon, Diamond.”
+
+“There's trees and flowers,” said Diamond.
+
+“Well, they ain't no count,” returned Nanny.
+
+“Ain't they? They're so beautiful, they make you happy to look at them.”
+
+“That's because you're such a silly.”
+
+Diamond smiled with a far-away look, as if he were gazing through clouds
+of green leaves and the vision contented him. But he was thinking with
+himself what more he could do for Nanny; and that same evening he went
+to find Mr. Raymond, for he had heard that he had returned to town.
+
+“Ah! how do you do, Diamond?” said Mr. Raymond; “I am glad to see you.”
+
+And he was indeed, for he had grown very fond of him. His opinion of him
+was very different from Nanny's.
+
+“What do you want now, my child?” he asked.
+
+“I'm always wanting something, sir,” answered Diamond.
+
+“Well, that's quite right, so long as what you want is right. Everybody
+is always wanting something; only we don't mention it in the right place
+often enough. What is it now?”
+
+“There's a friend of Nanny's, a lame boy, called Jim.”
+
+“I've heard of him,” said Mr. Raymond. “Well?”
+
+“Nanny doesn't care much about going to the country, sir.”
+
+“Well, what has that to do with Jim?”
+
+“You couldn't find a corner for Jim to work in--could you, sir?”
+
+“I don't know that I couldn't. That is, if you can show good reason for
+it.”
+
+“He's a good boy, sir.”
+
+“Well, so much the better for him.”
+
+“I know he can shine boots, sir.”
+
+“So much the better for us.”
+
+“You want your boots shined in the country--don't you, sir?”
+
+“Yes, to be sure.”
+
+“It wouldn't be nice to walk over the flowers with dirty boots--would
+it, sir?”
+
+“No, indeed.”
+
+“They wouldn't like it--would they?”
+
+“No, they wouldn't.”
+
+“Then Nanny would be better pleased to go, sir.”
+
+“If the flowers didn't like dirty boots to walk over them, Nanny
+wouldn't mind going to the country? Is that it? I don't quite see it.”
+
+“No, sir; I didn't mean that. I meant, if you would take Jim with you to
+clean your boots, and do odd jobs, you know, sir, then Nanny would like
+it better. She's so fond of Jim!”
+
+“Now you come to the point, Diamond. I see what you mean, exactly. I
+will turn it over in my mind. Could you bring Jim to see me?”
+
+“I'll try, sir. But they don't mind me much. They think I'm silly,”
+ added Diamond, with one of his sweetest smiles.
+
+What Mr. Raymond thought, I dare hardly attempt to put down here. But
+one part of it was, that the highest wisdom must ever appear folly to
+those who do not possess it.
+
+“I think he would come though--after dark, you know,” Diamond continued.
+“He does well at shining boots. People's kind to lame boys, you know,
+sir. But after dark, there ain't so much doing.”
+
+Diamond succeeded in bringing Jim to Mr. Raymond, and the consequence
+was that he resolved to give the boy a chance. He provided new clothes
+for both him and Nanny; and upon a certain day, Joseph took his wife and
+three children, and Nanny and Jim, by train to a certain station in the
+county of Kent, where they found a cart waiting to carry them and their
+luggage to The Mound, which was the name of Mr. Raymond's new residence.
+I will not describe the varied feelings of the party as they went, or
+when they arrived. All I will say is, that Diamond, who is my only care,
+was full of quiet delight--a gladness too deep to talk about.
+
+Joseph returned to town the same night, and the next morning drove Ruby
+and Diamond down, with the carriage behind them, and Mr. Raymond and a
+lady in the carriage. For Mr. Raymond was an old bachelor no longer: he
+was bringing his wife with him to live at The Mound. The moment Nanny
+saw her, she recognised her as the lady who had lent her the ruby-ring.
+That ring had been given her by Mr. Raymond.
+
+The weather was very hot, and the woods very shadowy. There were not a
+great many wild flowers, for it was getting well towards autumn, and the
+most of the wild flowers rise early to be before the leaves, because
+if they did not, they would never get a glimpse of the sun for them. So
+they have their fun over, and are ready to go to bed again by the time
+the trees are dressed. But there was plenty of the loveliest grass and
+daisies about the house, and Diamond's chief pleasure seemed to be to
+lie amongst them, and breathe the pure air. But all the time, he was
+dreaming of the country at the back of the north wind, and trying to
+recall the songs the river used to sing. For this was more like being at
+the back of the north wind than anything he had known since he left it.
+Sometimes he would have his little brother, sometimes his little sister,
+and sometimes both of them in the grass with him, and then he felt just
+like a cat with her first kittens, he said, only he couldn't purr--all
+he could do was to sing.
+
+These were very different times from those when he used to drive the
+cab, but you must not suppose that Diamond was idle. He did not do so
+much for his mother now, because Nanny occupied his former place; but
+he helped his father still, both in the stable and the harness-room, and
+generally went with him on the box that he might learn to drive a pair,
+and be ready to open the carriage-door. Mr. Raymond advised his father
+to give him plenty of liberty.
+
+“A boy like that,” he said, “ought not to be pushed.”
+
+Joseph assented heartily, smiling to himself at the idea of pushing
+Diamond. After doing everything that fell to his share, the boy had a
+wealth of time at his disposal. And a happy, sometimes a merry time it
+was. Only for two months or so, he neither saw nor heard anything of
+North Wind.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV. I MAKE DIAMOND'S ACQUAINTANCE
+
+
+MR. RAYMOND'S house was called The Mound, because it stood upon a little
+steep knoll, so smooth and symmetrical that it showed itself at once to
+be artificial. It had, beyond doubt, been built for Queen Elizabeth as a
+hunting tower--a place, namely, from the top of which you could see the
+country for miles on all sides, and so be able to follow with your eyes
+the flying deer and the pursuing hounds and horsemen. The mound had been
+cast up to give a good basement-advantage over the neighbouring heights
+and woods. There was a great quarry-hole not far off, brim-full of
+water, from which, as the current legend stated, the materials forming
+the heart of the mound--a kind of stone unfit for building--had been
+dug. The house itself was of brick, and they said the foundations were
+first laid in the natural level, and then the stones and earth of the
+mound were heaped about and between them, so that its great height
+should be well buttressed.
+
+Joseph and his wife lived in a little cottage a short way from the
+house. It was a real cottage, with a roof of thick thatch, which, in
+June and July, the wind sprinkled with the red and white petals it shook
+from the loose topmost sprays of the rose-trees climbing the walls. At
+first Diamond had a nest under this thatch--a pretty little room with
+white muslin curtains, but afterwards Mr. and Mrs. Raymond wanted to
+have him for a page in the house, and his father and mother were quite
+pleased to have him employed without his leaving them. So he was dressed
+in a suit of blue, from which his pale face and fair hair came out like
+the loveliest blossom, and took up his abode in the house.
+
+“Would you be afraid to sleep alone, Diamond?” asked his mistress.
+
+“I don't know what you mean, ma'am,” said Diamond. “I never was afraid
+of anything that I can recollect--not much, at least.”
+
+“There's a little room at the top of the house--all alone,” she
+returned; “perhaps you would not mind sleeping there?”
+
+“I can sleep anywhere, and I like best to be high up. Should I be able
+to see out?”
+
+“I will show you the place,” she answered; and taking him by the hand,
+she led him up and up the oval-winding stair in one of the two towers.
+
+Near the top they entered a tiny little room, with two windows from
+which you could see over the whole country. Diamond clapped his hands
+with delight.
+
+“You would like this room, then, Diamond?” said his mistress.
+
+“It's the grandest room in the house,” he answered. “I shall be near the
+stars, and yet not far from the tops of the trees. That's just what I
+like.”
+
+I daresay he thought, also, that it would be a nice place for North
+Wind to call at in passing; but he said nothing of that sort. Below him
+spread a lake of green leaves, with glimpses of grass here and there at
+the bottom of it. As he looked down, he saw a squirrel appear suddenly,
+and as suddenly vanish amongst the topmost branches.
+
+“Aha! little squirrel,” he cried, “my nest is built higher than yours.”
+
+“You can be up here with your books as much as you like,” said his
+mistress. “I will have a little bell hung at the door, which I can ring
+when I want you. Half-way down the stair is the drawing-room.”
+
+So Diamond was installed as page, and his new room got ready for him.
+
+It was very soon after this that I came to know Diamond. I was then a
+tutor in a family whose estate adjoined the little property belonging
+to The Mound. I had made the acquaintance of Mr. Raymond in London some
+time before, and was walking up the drive towards the house to call upon
+him one fine warm evening, when I saw Diamond for the first time. He was
+sitting at the foot of a great beech-tree, a few yards from the road,
+with a book on his knees. He did not see me. I walked up behind
+the tree, and peeping over his shoulder, saw that he was reading a
+fairy-book.
+
+“What are you reading?” I said, and spoke suddenly, with the hope of
+seeing a startled little face look round at me. Diamond turned his
+head as quietly as if he were only obeying his mother's voice, and the
+calmness of his face rebuked my unkind desire and made me ashamed of it.
+
+“I am reading the story of the Little Lady and the Goblin Prince,” said
+Diamond.
+
+“I am sorry I don't know the story,” I returned. “Who is it by?”
+
+“Mr. Raymond made it.”
+
+“Is he your uncle?” I asked at a guess.
+
+“No. He's my master.”
+
+“What do you do for him?” I asked respectfully.
+
+“Anything he wishes me to do,” he answered. “I am busy for him now. He
+gave me this story to read. He wants my opinion upon it.”
+
+“Don't you find it rather hard to make up your mind?”
+
+“Oh dear no! Any story always tells me itself what I'm to think about
+it. Mr. Raymond doesn't want me to say whether it is a clever story or
+not, but whether I like it, and why I like it. I never can tell what
+they call clever from what they call silly, but I always know whether I
+like a story or not.”
+
+“And can you always tell why you like it or not?”
+
+“No. Very often I can't at all. Sometimes I can. I always know, but I
+can't always tell why. Mr. Raymond writes the stories, and then tries
+them on me. Mother does the same when she makes jam. She's made such a
+lot of jam since we came here! And she always makes me taste it to see
+if it'll do. Mother knows by the face I make whether it will or not.”
+
+At this moment I caught sight of two more children approaching. One was
+a handsome girl, the other a pale-faced, awkward-looking boy, who limped
+much on one leg. I withdrew a little, to see what would follow, for they
+seemed in some consternation. After a few hurried words, they went
+off together, and I pursued my way to the house, where I was as kindly
+received by Mr. and Mrs. Raymond as I could have desired. From them I
+learned something of Diamond, and was in consequence the more glad to
+find him, when I returned, seated in the same place as before.
+
+“What did the boy and girl want with you, Diamond?” I asked.
+
+“They had seen a creature that frightened them.”
+
+“And they came to tell you about it?”
+
+“They couldn't get water out of the well for it. So they wanted me to go
+with them.”
+
+“They're both bigger than you.”
+
+“Yes, but they were frightened at it.”
+
+“And weren't you frightened at it?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Because I'm silly. I'm never frightened at things.”
+
+I could not help thinking of the old meaning of the word silly.
+
+“And what was it?” I asked.
+
+“I think it was a kind of an angel--a very little one. It had a long
+body and great wings, which it drove about it so fast that they grew a
+thin cloud all round it. It flew backwards and forwards over the well,
+or hung right in the middle, making a mist of its wings, as if its
+business was to take care of the water.”
+
+“And what did you do to drive it away?”
+
+“I didn't drive it away. I knew, whatever the creature was, the well
+was to get water out of. So I took the jug, dipped it in, and drew the
+water.”
+
+“And what did the creature do?”
+
+“Flew about.”
+
+“And it didn't hurt you?”
+
+“No. Why should it? I wasn't doing anything wrong.”
+
+“What did your companions say then?”
+
+“They said--`Thank you, Diamond. What a dear silly you are!'”
+
+“And weren't you angry with them?”
+
+“No! Why should I? I should like if they would play with me a little;
+but they always like better to go away together when their work is over.
+They never heed me. I don't mind it much, though. The other creatures
+are friendly. They don't run away from me. Only they're all so busy with
+their own work, they don't mind me much.”
+
+“Do you feel lonely, then?”
+
+“Oh, no! When nobody minds me, I get into my nest, and look up. And then
+the sky does mind me, and thinks about me.”
+
+“Where is your nest?”
+
+He rose, saying, “I will show you,” and led me to the other side of the
+tree.
+
+There hung a little rope-ladder from one of the lower boughs. The boy
+climbed up the ladder and got upon the bough. Then he climbed farther
+into the leafy branches, and went out of sight.
+
+After a little while, I heard his voice coming down out of the tree.
+
+“I am in my nest now,” said the voice.
+
+“I can't see you,” I returned.
+
+“I can't see you either, but I can see the first star peeping out of the
+sky. I should like to get up into the sky. Don't you think I shall, some
+day?”
+
+“Yes, I do. Tell me what more you see up there.”
+
+“I don't see anything more, except a few leaves, and the big sky over
+me. It goes swinging about. The earth is all behind my back. There comes
+another star! The wind is like kisses from a big lady. When I get up
+here I feel as if I were in North Wind's arms.”
+
+This was the first I heard of North Wind.
+
+The whole ways and look of the child, so full of quiet wisdom, yet so
+ready to accept the judgment of others in his own dispraise, took hold
+of my heart, and I felt myself wonderfully drawn towards him. It seemed
+to me, somehow, as if little Diamond possessed the secret of life, and
+was himself what he was so ready to think the lowest living thing--an
+angel of God with something special to say or do. A gush of reverence
+came over me, and with a single goodnight, I turned and left him in his
+nest.
+
+I saw him often after this, and gained so much of his confidence that he
+told me all I have told you. I cannot pretend to account for it. I leave
+that for each philosophical reader to do after his own fashion. The
+easiest way is that of Nanny and Jim, who said often to each other
+that Diamond had a tile loose. But Mr. Raymond was much of my opinion
+concerning the boy; while Mrs. Raymond confessed that she often rang her
+bell just to have once more the pleasure of seeing the lovely stillness
+of the boy's face, with those blue eyes which seemed rather made for
+other people to look into than for himself to look out of.
+
+It was plainer to others than to himself that he felt the desertion of
+Nanny and Jim. They appeared to regard him as a mere toy, except when
+they found he could minister to the scruple of using him--generally with
+success. They were, however, well-behaved to a wonderful degree; while
+I have little doubt that much of their good behaviour was owing to the
+unconscious influence of the boy they called God's baby.
+
+One very strange thing is that I could never find out where he got some
+of his many songs. At times they would be but bubbles blown out of a
+nursery rhyme, as was the following, which I heard him sing one evening
+to his little Dulcimer. There were about a score of sheep feeding in a
+paddock near him, their white wool dyed a pale rose in the light of the
+setting sun. Those in the long shadows from the trees were dead white;
+those in the sunlight were half glorified with pale rose.
+
+
+         Little Bo Peep, she lost her sheep,
+            And didn't know where to find them;
+         They were over the height and out of sight,
+            Trailing their tails behind them.
+
+         Little Bo Peep woke out of her sleep,
+            Jump'd up and set out to find them:
+         “The silly things, they've got no wings,
+            And they've left their trails behind them:
+
+   “They've taken their tails, but they've left their trails,
+   And so I shall follow and find them;”
+    For wherever a tail had dragged a trail,
+   The long grass grew behind them.
+
+   And day's eyes and butter-cups, cow's lips and crow's feet
+   Were glittering in the sun.
+   She threw down her book, and caught up her crook,
+   And after her sheep did run.
+
+   She ran, and she ran, and ever as she ran,
+   The grass grew higher and higher;
+   Till over the hill the sun began
+   To set in a flame of fire.
+
+   She ran on still--up the grassy hill,
+   And the grass grew higher and higher;
+   When she reached its crown, the sun was down,
+   And had left a trail of fire.
+
+   The sheep and their tails were gone, all gone--
+   And no more trail behind them!
+   Yes, yes!  they were there--long-tailed and fair,
+   But, alas!  she could not find them.
+
+   Purple and gold, and rosy and blue,
+   With their tails all white behind them,
+   Her sheep they did run in the trail of the sun;
+   She saw them, but could not find them.
+
+   After the sun, like clouds they did run,
+   But she knew they were her sheep:
+   She sat down to cry, and look up at the sky,
+   But she cried herself asleep.
+
+   And as she slept the dew fell fast,
+   And the wind blew from the sky;
+   And strange things took place that shun the day's face,
+   Because they are sweet and shy.
+
+   Nibble, nibble, crop!  she heard as she woke:
+   A hundred little lambs
+   Did pluck and eat the grass so sweet
+   That grew in the trails of their dams.
+
+   Little Bo Peep caught up her crook,
+   And wiped the tears that did blind her.
+   And nibble, nibble crop! without a stop!
+   The lambs came eating behind her.
+
+   Home, home she came, both tired and lame,
+   With three times as many sheep.
+   In a month or more, they'll be as big as before,
+   And then she'll laugh in her sleep.
+
+   But what would you say, if one fine day,
+   When they've got their bushiest tails,
+   Their grown up game should be just the same,
+   And she have to follow their trails?
+
+   Never weep, Bo Peep, though you lose your sheep,
+   And do not know where to find them;
+   'Tis after the sun the mothers have run,
+   And there are their lambs behind them.
+
+I confess again to having touched up a little, but it loses far more
+in Diamond's sweet voice singing it than it gains by a rhyme here and
+there.
+
+Some of them were out of books Mr. Raymond had given him. These he
+always knew, but about the others he could seldom tell. Sometimes he
+would say, “I made that one.” but generally he would say, “I don't know;
+I found it somewhere;” or “I got it at the back of the north wind.”
+
+One evening I found him sitting on the grassy slope under the house,
+with his Dulcimer in his arms and his little brother rolling on the
+grass beside them. He was chanting in his usual way, more like the sound
+of a brook than anything else I can think of. When I went up to them he
+ceased his chant.
+
+“Do go on, Diamond. Don't mind me,” I said.
+
+He began again at once. While he sang, Nanny and Jim sat a little way
+off, one hemming a pocket-handkerchief, and the other reading a story
+to her, but they never heeded Diamond. This is as near what he sang as I
+can recollect, or reproduce rather.
+
+   What would you see if I took you up
+   To my little nest in the air?
+   You would see the sky like a clear blue cup
+   Turned upside downwards there.
+
+   What would you do if I took you there
+   To my little nest in the tree?
+   My child with cries would trouble the air,
+   To get what she could but see.
+
+   What would you get in the top of the tree
+   For all your crying and grief?
+   Not a star would you clutch of all you see--
+   You could only gather a leaf.
+
+   But when you had lost your greedy grief,
+   Content to see from afar,
+   You would find in your hand a withering leaf,
+   In your heart a shining star.
+
+As Diamond went on singing, it grew very dark, and just as he ceased
+there came a great flash of lightning, that blinded us all for a moment.
+Dulcimer crowed with pleasure; but when the roar of thunder came after
+it, the little brother gave a loud cry of terror. Nanny and Jim came
+running up to us, pale with fear. Diamond's face, too, was paler than
+usual, but with delight. Some of the glory seemed to have clung to it,
+and remained shining.
+
+“You're not frightened--are you, Diamond?” I said.
+
+“No. Why should I be?” he answered with his usual question, looking up
+in my face with calm shining eyes.
+
+“He ain't got sense to be frightened,” said Nanny, going up to him and
+giving him a pitying hug.
+
+“Perhaps there's more sense in not being frightened, Nanny,” I returned.
+“Do you think the lightning can do as it likes?”
+
+“It might kill you,” said Jim.
+
+“Oh, no, it mightn't!” said Diamond.
+
+As he spoke there came another great flash, and a tearing crack.
+
+“There's a tree struck!” I said; and when we looked round, after the
+blinding of the flash had left our eyes, we saw a huge bough of the
+beech-tree in which was Diamond's nest hanging to the ground like the
+broken wing of a bird.
+
+“There!” cried Nanny; “I told you so. If you had been up there you see
+what would have happened, you little silly!”
+
+“No, I don't,” said Diamond, and began to sing to Dulcimer. All I
+could hear of the song, for the other children were going on with their
+chatter, was--
+
+                     The clock struck one,
+                     And the mouse came down.
+                     Dickery, dickery, dock!
+
+Then there came a blast of wind, and the rain followed in
+straight-pouring lines, as if out of a watering-pot. Diamond jumped up
+with his little Dulcimer in his arms, and Nanny caught up the little
+boy, and they ran for the cottage. Jim vanished with a double shuffle,
+and I went into the house.
+
+When I came out again to return home, the clouds were gone, and the
+evening sky glimmered through the trees, blue, and pale-green towards
+the west, I turned my steps a little aside to look at the stricken
+beech. I saw the bough torn from the stem, and that was all the twilight
+would allow me to see. While I stood gazing, down from the sky came a
+sound of singing, but the voice was neither of lark nor of nightingale:
+it was sweeter than either: it was the voice of Diamond, up in his airy
+nest:--
+
+                     The lightning and thunder,
+                     They go and they come;
+                     But the stars and the stillness
+                     Are always at home.
+
+And then the voice ceased.
+
+“Good-night, Diamond,” I said.
+
+“Good-night, sir,” answered Diamond.
+
+As I walked away pondering, I saw the great black top of the beech
+swaying about against the sky in an upper wind, and heard the murmur as
+of many dim half-articulate voices filling the solitude around Diamond's
+nest.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI. DIAMOND QUESTIONS NORTH WIND
+
+
+MY READERS will not wonder that, after this, I did my very best to gain
+the friendship of Diamond. Nor did I find this at all difficult, the
+child was so ready to trust. Upon one subject alone was he reticent--the
+story of his relations with North Wind. I fancy he could not quite make
+up his mind what to think of them. At all events it was some little time
+before he trusted me with this, only then he told me everything. If
+I could not regard it all in exactly the same light as he did, I was,
+while guiltless of the least pretence, fully sympathetic, and he
+was satisfied without demanding of me any theory of difficult points
+involved. I let him see plainly enough, that whatever might be the
+explanation of the marvellous experience, I would have given much for a
+similar one myself.
+
+On an evening soon after the thunderstorm, in a late twilight, with
+a half-moon high in the heavens, I came upon Diamond in the act of
+climbing by his little ladder into the beech-tree.
+
+“What are you always going up there for, Diamond?” I heard Nanny ask,
+rather rudely, I thought.
+
+“Sometimes for one thing, sometimes for another, Nanny,” answered
+Diamond, looking skywards as he climbed.
+
+“You'll break your neck some day,” she said.
+
+“I'm going up to look at the moon to-night,” he added, without heeding
+her remark.
+
+“You'll see the moon just as well down here,” she returned.
+
+“I don't think so.”
+
+“You'll be no nearer to her up there.”
+
+“Oh, yes! I shall. I must be nearer her, you know. I wish I could dream
+as pretty dreams about her as you can, Nanny.”
+
+“You silly! you never have done about that dream. I never dreamed but
+that one, and it was nonsense enough, I'm sure.”
+
+“It wasn't nonsense. It was a beautiful dream--and a funny one too, both
+in one.”
+
+“But what's the good of talking about it that way, when you know it was
+only a dream? Dreams ain't true.”
+
+“That one was true, Nanny. You know it was. Didn't you come to grief for
+doing what you were told not to do? And isn't that true?”
+
+“I can't get any sense into him,” exclaimed Nanny, with an expression of
+mild despair. “Do you really believe, Diamond, that there's a house in
+the moon, with a beautiful lady and a crooked old man and dusters in
+it?”
+
+“If there isn't, there's something better,” he answered, and vanished in
+the leaves over our heads.
+
+I went into the house, where I visited often in the evenings. When I
+came out, there was a little wind blowing, very pleasant after the heat
+of the day, for although it was late summer now, it was still hot. The
+tree-tops were swinging about in it. I took my way past the beech, and
+called up to see if Diamond were still in his nest in its rocking head.
+
+“Are you there, Diamond?” I said.
+
+“Yes, sir,” came his clear voice in reply.
+
+“Isn't it growing too dark for you to get down safely?”
+
+“Oh, no, sir--if I take time to it. I know my way so well, and never let
+go with one hand till I've a good hold with the other.”
+
+“Do be careful,” I insisted--foolishly, seeing the boy was as careful as
+he could be already.
+
+“I'm coming,” he returned. “I've got all the moon I want to-night.”
+
+
+I heard a rustling and a rustling drawing nearer and nearer. Three or
+four minutes elapsed, and he appeared at length creeping down his little
+ladder. I took him in my arms, and set him on the ground.
+
+“Thank you, sir,” he said. “That's the north wind blowing, isn't it,
+sir?”
+
+“I can't tell,” I answered. “It feels cool and kind, and I think it may
+be. But I couldn't be sure except it were stronger, for a gentle wind
+might turn any way amongst the trunks of the trees.”
+
+“I shall know when I get up to my own room,” said Diamond. “I think I
+hear my mistress's bell. Good-night, sir.”
+
+He ran to the house, and I went home.
+
+His mistress had rung for him only to send him to bed, for she was very
+careful over him and I daresay thought he was not looking well. When he
+reached his own room, he opened both his windows, one of which looked to
+the north and the other to the east, to find how the wind blew. It blew
+right in at the northern window. Diamond was very glad, for he thought
+perhaps North Wind herself would come now: a real north wind had never
+blown all the time since he left London. But, as she always came of
+herself, and never when he was looking for her, and indeed almost never
+when he was thinking of her, he shut the east window, and went to bed.
+Perhaps some of my readers may wonder that he could go to sleep with
+such an expectation; and, indeed, if I had not known him, I should have
+wondered at it myself; but it was one of his peculiarities, and seemed
+nothing strange in him. He was so full of quietness that he could go
+to sleep almost any time, if he only composed himself and let the sleep
+come. This time he went fast asleep as usual.
+
+But he woke in the dim blue night. The moon had vanished. He thought he
+heard a knocking at his door. “Somebody wants me,” he said to himself,
+and jumping out of bed, ran to open it.
+
+But there was no one there. He closed it again, and, the noise still
+continuing, found that another door in the room was rattling. It
+belonged to a closet, he thought, but he had never been able to open it.
+The wind blowing in at the window must be shaking it. He would go and
+see if it was so.
+
+The door now opened quite easily, but to his surprise, instead of a
+closet he found a long narrow room. The moon, which was sinking in the
+west, shone in at an open window at the further end. The room was
+low with a coved ceiling, and occupied the whole top of the house,
+immediately under the roof. It was quite empty. The yellow light of
+the half-moon streamed over the dark floor. He was so delighted at the
+discovery of the strange, desolate, moonlit place close to his own snug
+little room, that he began to dance and skip about the floor. The wind
+came in through the door he had left open, and blew about him as he
+danced, and he kept turning towards it that it might blow in his face.
+He kept picturing to himself the many places, lovely and desolate, the
+hill-sides and farm-yards and tree-tops and meadows, over which it had
+blown on its way to The Mound. And as he danced, he grew more and more
+delighted with the motion and the wind; his feet grew stronger, and his
+body lighter, until at length it seemed as if he were borne up on the
+air, and could almost fly. So strong did his feeling become, that at
+last he began to doubt whether he was not in one of those precious
+dreams he had so often had, in which he floated about on the air at
+will. But something made him look up, and to his unspeakable delight, he
+found his uplifted hands lying in those of North Wind, who was dancing
+with him, round and round the long bare room, her hair now falling to
+the floor, now filling the arched ceiling, her eyes shining on him like
+thinking stars, and the sweetest of grand smiles playing breezily about
+her beautiful mouth. She was, as so often before, of the height of a
+rather tall lady. She did not stoop in order to dance with him, but held
+his hands high in hers. When he saw her, he gave one spring, and his
+arms were about her neck, and her arms holding him to her bosom. The
+same moment she swept with him through the open window in at which
+the moon was shining, made a circuit like a bird about to alight, and
+settled with him in his nest on the top of the great beech-tree. There
+she placed him on her lap and began to hush him as if he were her own
+baby, and Diamond was so entirely happy that he did not care to speak a
+word. At length, however, he found that he was going to sleep, and
+that would be to lose so much, that, pleasant as it was, he could not
+consent.
+
+“Please, dear North Wind,” he said, “I am so happy that I'm afraid it's
+a dream. How am I to know that it's not a dream?”
+
+“What does it matter?” returned North Wind.
+
+“I should, cry” said Diamond.
+
+“But why should you cry? The dream, if it is a dream, is a pleasant
+one--is it not?”
+
+“That's just why I want it to be true.”
+
+“Have you forgotten what you said to Nanny about her dream?”
+
+“It's not for the dream itself--I mean, it's not for the pleasure of
+it,” answered Diamond, “for I have that, whether it be a dream or not;
+it's for you, North Wind; I can't bear to find it a dream, because then
+I should lose you. You would be nobody then, and I could not bear that.
+You ain't a dream, are you, dear North Wind? Do say No, else I shall
+cry, and come awake, and you'll be gone for ever. I daren't dream about
+you once again if you ain't anybody.”
+
+“I'm either not a dream, or there's something better that's not a dream,
+Diamond,” said North Wind, in a rather sorrowful tone, he thought.
+
+“But it's not something better--it's you I want, North Wind,” he
+persisted, already beginning to cry a little.
+
+She made no answer, but rose with him in her arms and sailed away over
+the tree-tops till they came to a meadow, where a flock of sheep was
+feeding.
+
+“Do you remember what the song you were singing a week ago says about
+Bo-Peep--how she lost her sheep, but got twice as many lambs?” asked
+North Wind, sitting down on the grass, and placing him in her lap as
+before.
+
+“Oh yes, I do, well enough,” answered Diamond; “but I never just quite
+liked that rhyme.”
+
+“Why not, child?”
+
+“Because it seems to say one's as good as another, or two new ones are
+better than one that's lost. I've been thinking about it a great deal,
+and it seems to me that although any one sixpence is as good as any
+other sixpence, not twenty lambs would do instead of one sheep whose
+face you knew. Somehow, when once you've looked into anybody's eyes,
+right deep down into them, I mean, nobody will do for that one any more.
+Nobody, ever so beautiful or so good, will make up for that one going
+out of sight. So you see, North Wind, I can't help being frightened to
+think that perhaps I am only dreaming, and you are nowhere at all. Do
+tell me that you are my own, real, beautiful North Wind.”
+
+Again she rose, and shot herself into the air, as if uneasy because she
+could not answer him; and Diamond lay quiet in her arms, waiting
+for what she would say. He tried to see up into her face, for he was
+dreadfully afraid she was not answering him because she could not say
+that she was not a dream; but she had let her hair fall all over her
+face so that he could not see it. This frightened him still more.
+
+“Do speak, North Wind,” he said at last.
+
+“I never speak when I have nothing to say,” she replied.
+
+“Then I do think you must be a real North Wind, and no dream,” said
+Diamond.
+
+“But I'm looking for something to say all the time.”
+
+“But I don't want you to say what's hard to find. If you were to say one
+word to comfort me that wasn't true, then I should know you must be a
+dream, for a great beautiful lady like you could never tell a lie.”
+
+“But she mightn't know how to say what she had to say, so that a little
+boy like you would understand it,” said North Wind. “Here, let us get
+down again, and I will try to tell you what I think. You musn't suppose
+I am able to answer all your questions, though. There are a great many
+things I don't understand more than you do.”
+
+She descended on a grassy hillock, in the midst of a wild furzy common.
+There was a rabbit-warren underneath, and some of the rabbits came out
+of their holes, in the moonlight, looking very sober and wise, just like
+patriarchs standing in their tent-doors, and looking about them before
+going to bed. When they saw North Wind, instead of turning round and
+vanishing again with a thump of their heels, they cantered slowly up to
+her and snuffled all about her with their long upper lips, which moved
+every way at once. That was their way of kissing her; and, as she talked
+to Diamond, she would every now and then stroke down their furry backs,
+or lift and play with their long ears. They would, Diamond thought, have
+leaped upon her lap, but that he was there already.
+
+“I think,” said she, after they had been sitting silent for a while,
+“that if I were only a dream, you would not have been able to love me
+so. You love me when you are not with me, don't you?”
+
+“Indeed I do,” answered Diamond, stroking her hand. “I see! I see! How
+could I be able to love you as I do if you weren't there at all, you
+know? Besides, I couldn't be able to dream anything half so beautiful
+all out of my own head; or if I did, I couldn't love a fancy of my own
+like that, could I?”
+
+“I think not. You might have loved me in a dream, dreamily, and
+forgotten me when you woke, I daresay, but not loved me like a real
+being as you love me. Even then, I don't think you could dream anything
+that hadn't something real like it somewhere. But you've seen me in many
+shapes, Diamond: you remember I was a wolf once--don't you?”
+
+“Oh yes--a good wolf that frightened a naughty drunken nurse.”
+
+“Well, suppose I were to turn ugly, would you rather I weren't a dream
+then?”
+
+“Yes; for I should know that you were beautiful inside all the same. You
+would love me, and I should love you all the same. I shouldn't like you
+to look ugly, you know. But I shouldn't believe it a bit.”
+
+“Not if you saw it?”
+
+“No, not if I saw it ever so plain.”
+
+“There's my Diamond! I will tell you all I know about it then. I don't
+think I am just what you fancy me to be. I have to shape myself various
+ways to various people. But the heart of me is true. People call me
+by dreadful names, and think they know all about me. But they don't.
+Sometimes they call me Bad Fortune, sometimes Evil Chance, sometimes
+Ruin; and they have another name for me which they think the most
+dreadful of all.”
+
+“What is that?” asked Diamond, smiling up in her face.
+
+“I won't tell you that name. Do you remember having to go through me to
+get into the country at my back?”
+
+“Oh yes, I do. How cold you were, North Wind! and so white, all but your
+lovely eyes! My heart grew like a lump of ice, and then I forgot for a
+while.”
+
+“You were very near knowing what they call me then. Would you be afraid
+of me if you had to go through me again?”
+
+“No. Why should I? Indeed I should be glad enough, if it was only to get
+another peep of the country at your back.”
+
+“You've never seen it yet.”
+
+“Haven't I, North Wind? Oh! I'm so sorry! I thought I had. What did I
+see then?”
+
+“Only a picture of it. The real country at my real back is ever so much
+more beautiful than that. You shall see it one day--perhaps before very
+long.”
+
+“Do they sing songs there?”
+
+“Don't you remember the dream you had about the little boys that dug for
+the stars?”
+
+“Yes, that I do. I thought you must have had something to do with that
+dream, it was so beautiful.”
+
+“Yes; I gave you that dream.”
+
+“Oh! thank you. Did you give Nanny her dream too--about the moon and the
+bees?”
+
+“Yes. I was the lady that sat at the window of the moon.”
+
+“Oh, thank you. I was almost sure you had something to do with that too.
+And did you tell Mr. Raymond the story about the Princess Daylight?”
+
+“I believe I had something to do with it. At all events he thought about
+it one night when he couldn't sleep. But I want to ask you whether you
+remember the song the boy-angels sang in that dream of yours.”
+
+“No. I couldn't keep it, do what I would, and I did try.”
+
+“That was my fault.”
+
+“How could that be, North Wind?”
+
+“Because I didn't know it properly myself, and so I couldn't teach it to
+you. I could only make a rough guess at something like what it would be,
+and so I wasn't able to make you dream it hard enough to remember it.
+Nor would I have done so if I could, for it was not correct. I made you
+dream pictures of it, though. But you will hear the very song itself
+when you do get to the back of----”
+
+“My own dear North Wind,” said Diamond, finishing the sentence for her,
+and kissing the arm that held him leaning against her.
+
+“And now we've settled all this--for the time, at least,” said North
+Wind.
+
+“But I can't feel quite sure yet,” said Diamond.
+
+“You must wait a while for that. Meantime you may be hopeful, and
+content not to be quite sure. Come now, I will take you home again, for
+it won't do to tire you too much.”
+
+“Oh, no, no. I'm not the least tired,” pleaded Diamond.
+
+“It is better, though.”
+
+“Very well; if you wish it,” yielded Diamond with a sigh.
+
+“You are a dear good, boy” said North Wind. “I will come for you again
+to-morrow night and take you out for a longer time. We shall make a
+little journey together, in fact, we shall start earlier, and as the
+moon will be later, we shall have a little moonlight all the way.”
+
+She rose, and swept over the meadow and the trees. In a few moments
+the Mound appeared below them. She sank a little, and floated in at the
+window of Diamond's room. There she laid him on his bed, covered him
+over, and in a moment he was lapt in a dreamless sleep.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII. ONCE MORE
+
+
+THE next night Diamond was seated by his open window, with his head on
+his hand, rather tired, but so eagerly waiting for the promised visit
+that he was afraid he could not sleep. But he started suddenly, and
+found that he had been already asleep. He rose, and looking out of the
+window saw something white against his beech-tree. It was North Wind.
+She was holding by one hand to a top branch. Her hair and her garments
+went floating away behind her over the tree, whose top was swaying about
+while the others were still.
+
+“Are you ready, Diamond?” she asked.
+
+“Yes,” answered Diamond, “quite ready.”
+
+In a moment she was at the window, and her arms came in and took him.
+She sailed away so swiftly that he could at first mark nothing but the
+speed with which the clouds above and the dim earth below went rushing
+past. But soon he began to see that the sky was very lovely, with
+mottled clouds all about the moon, on which she threw faint colours like
+those of mother-of-pearl, or an opal. The night was warm, and in the
+lady's arms he did not feel the wind which down below was making waves
+in the ripe corn, and ripples on the rivers and lakes. At length they
+descended on the side of an open earthy hill, just where, from beneath a
+stone, a spring came bubbling out.
+
+“I am going to take you along this little brook,” said North Wind. “I am
+not wanted for anything else to-night, so I can give you a treat.”
+
+She stooped over the stream and holding Diamond down close to the
+surface of it, glided along level with its flow as it ran down the hill.
+And the song of the brook came up into Diamond's ears, and grew and
+grew and changed with every turn. It seemed to Diamond to be singing the
+story of its life to him. And so it was. It began with a musical tinkle
+which changed to a babble and then to a gentle rushing. Sometimes its
+song would almost cease, and then break out again, tinkle, babble, and
+rush, all at once. At the bottom of the hill they came to a small river,
+into which the brook flowed with a muffled but merry sound. Along the
+surface of the river, darkly clear below them in the moonlight, they
+floated; now, where it widened out into a little lake, they would hover
+for a moment over a bed of water-lilies, and watch them swing about,
+folded in sleep, as the water on which they leaned swayed in the
+presence of North Wind; and now they would watch the fishes asleep among
+their roots below. Sometimes she would hold Diamond over a deep hollow
+curving into the bank, that he might look far into the cool stillness.
+Sometimes she would leave the river and sweep across a clover-field. The
+bees were all at home, and the clover was asleep. Then she would return
+and follow the river. It grew wider and wider as it went. Now the armies
+of wheat and of oats would hang over its rush from the opposite banks;
+now the willows would dip low branches in its still waters; and now it
+would lead them through stately trees and grassy banks into a lovely
+garden, where the roses and lilies were asleep, the tender flowers
+quite folded up, and only a few wide-awake and sending out their life in
+sweet, strong odours. Wider and wider grew the stream, until they came
+upon boats lying along its banks, which rocked a little in the flutter
+of North Wind's garments. Then came houses on the banks, each standing
+in a lovely lawn, with grand trees; and in parts the river was so high
+that some of the grass and the roots of some of the trees were under
+water, and Diamond, as they glided through between the stems, could see
+the grass at the bottom of the water. Then they would leave the river
+and float about and over the houses, one after another--beautiful rich
+houses, which, like fine trees, had taken centuries to grow. There was
+scarcely a light to be seen, and not a movement to be heard: all the
+people in them lay fast asleep.
+
+“What a lot of dreams they must be dreaming!” said Diamond.
+
+“Yes,” returned North Wind. “They can't surely be all lies--can they?”
+
+“I should think it depends a little on who dreams them,” suggested
+Diamond.
+
+“Yes,” said North Wind. “The people who think lies, and do lies, are
+very likely to dream lies. But the people who love what is true will
+surely now and then dream true things. But then something depends on
+whether the dreams are home-grown, or whether the seed of them is blown
+over somebody else's garden-wall. Ah! there's some one awake in this
+house!”
+
+They were floating past a window in which a light was burning. Diamond
+heard a moan, and looked up anxiously in North Wind's face.
+
+“It's a lady,” said North Wind. “She can't sleep for pain.”
+
+“Couldn't you do something for her?” said Diamond.
+
+“No, I can't. But you could.”
+
+“What could I do?”
+
+“Sing a little song to her.”
+
+“She wouldn't hear me.”
+
+“I will take you in, and then she will hear you.”
+
+“But that would be rude, wouldn't it? You can go where you please, of
+course, but I should have no business in her room.”
+
+“You may trust me, Diamond. I shall take as good care of the lady as of
+you. The window is open. Come.”
+
+By a shaded lamp, a lady was seated in a white wrapper, trying to read,
+but moaning every minute. North Wind floated behind her chair,
+set Diamond down, and told him to sing something. He was a little
+frightened, but he thought a while, and then sang:--
+
+           The sun is gone down,
+           And the moon's in the sky;
+           But the sun will come up,
+           And the moon be laid by.
+
+           The flower is asleep
+           But it is not dead;
+           When the morning shines,
+           It will lift its head.
+
+           When winter comes,
+           It will die--no, no;
+           It will only hide
+           From the frost and the snow.
+
+           Sure is the summer,
+           Sure is the sun;
+           The night and the winter
+           Are shadows that run.
+
+The lady never lifted her eyes from her book, or her head from her hand.
+
+As soon as Diamond had finished, North Wind lifted him and carried him
+away.
+
+“Didn't the lady hear me?” asked Diamond when they were once more
+floating down the river.
+
+“Oh, yes, she heard you,” answered North Wind.
+
+“Was she frightened then?”
+
+“Oh, no.”
+
+“Why didn't she look to see who it was?”
+
+“She didn't know you were there.”
+
+“How could she hear me then?”
+
+“She didn't hear you with her ears.”
+
+“What did she hear me with?”
+
+“With her heart.”
+
+“Where did she think the words came from?”
+
+“She thought they came out of the book she was reading. She will search
+all through it to-morrow to find them, and won't be able to understand
+it at all.”
+
+“Oh, what fun!” said Diamond. “What will she do?”
+
+“I can tell you what she won't do: she'll never forget the meaning of
+them; and she'll never be able to remember the words of them.”
+
+“If she sees them in Mr. Raymond's book, it will puzzle her, won't it?”
+
+“Yes, that it will. She will never be able to understand it.”
+
+“Until she gets to the back of the north wind,” suggested Diamond.
+
+“Until she gets to the back of the north wind,” assented the lady.
+
+“Oh!” cried Diamond, “I know now where we are. Oh! do let me go into the
+old garden, and into mother's room, and Diamond's stall. I wonder if the
+hole is at the back of my bed still. I should like to stay there all the
+rest of the night. It won't take you long to get home from here, will
+it, North Wind?”
+
+“No,” she answered; “you shall stay as long as you like.”
+
+“Oh, how jolly,” cried Diamond, as North Wind sailed over the house with
+him, and set him down on the lawn at the back.
+
+Diamond ran about the lawn for a little while in the moonlight. He found
+part of it cut up into flower-beds, and the little summer-house with the
+coloured glass and the great elm-tree gone. He did not like this, and
+ran into the stable. There were no horses there at all. He ran upstairs.
+The rooms were empty. The only thing left that he cared about was the
+hole in the wall where his little bed had stood; and that was not enough
+to make him wish to stop. He ran down the stair again, and out upon the
+lawn. There he threw himself down and began to cry. It was all so dreary
+and lost!
+
+“I thought I liked the place so much,” said Diamond to himself, “but I
+find I don't care about it. I suppose it's only the people in it that
+make you like a place, and when they're gone, it's dead, and you don't
+care a bit about it. North Wind told me I might stop as long as I liked,
+and I've stopped longer already. North Wind!” he cried aloud, turning
+his face towards the sky.
+
+The moon was under a cloud, and all was looking dull and dismal. A
+star shot from the sky, and fell in the grass beside him. The moment it
+lighted, there stood North Wind.
+
+“Oh!” cried Diamond, joyfully, “were you the shooting star?”
+
+“Yes, my child.”
+
+“Did you hear me call you then?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“So high up as that?”
+
+“Yes; I heard you quite well.”
+
+“Do take me home.”
+
+“Have you had enough of your old home already?”
+
+“Yes, more than enough. It isn't a home at all now.”
+
+“I thought that would be it,” said North Wind. “Everything, dreaming and
+all, has got a soul in it, or else it's worth nothing, and we don't care
+a bit about it. Some of our thoughts are worth nothing, because they've
+got no soul in them. The brain puts them into the mind, not the mind
+into the brain.”
+
+“But how can you know about that, North Wind? You haven't got a body.”
+
+“If I hadn't you wouldn't know anything about me. No creature can know
+another without the help of a body. But I don't care to talk about that.
+It is time for you to go home.”
+
+So saying, North Wind lifted Diamond and bore him away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII. AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND
+
+
+I DID not see Diamond for a week or so after this, and then he told me
+what I have now told you. I should have been astonished at his being
+able even to report such conversations as he said he had had with
+North Wind, had I not known already that some children are profound in
+metaphysics. But a fear crosses me, lest, by telling so much about
+my friend, I should lead people to mistake him for one of those
+consequential, priggish little monsters, who are always trying to say
+clever things, and looking to see whether people appreciate them. When a
+child like that dies, instead of having a silly book written about him,
+he should be stuffed like one of those awful big-headed fishes you
+see in museums. But Diamond never troubled his head about what people
+thought of him. He never set up for knowing better than others. The
+wisest things he said came out when he wanted one to help him with some
+difficulty he was in. He was not even offended with Nanny and Jim for
+calling him a silly. He supposed there was something in it, though he
+could not quite understand what. I suspect however that the other name
+they gave him, God's Baby, had some share in reconciling him to it.
+
+Happily for me, I was as much interested in metaphysics as Diamond
+himself, and therefore, while he recounted his conversations with North
+Wind, I did not find myself at all in a strange sea, although certainly
+I could not always feel the bottom, being indeed convinced that the
+bottom was miles away.
+
+“Could it be all dreaming, do you think, sir?” he asked anxiously.
+
+“I daren't say, Diamond,” I answered. “But at least there is one thing
+you may be sure of, that there is a still better love than that of the
+wonderful being you call North Wind. Even if she be a dream, the dream
+of such a beautiful creature could not come to you by chance.”
+
+“Yes, I know,” returned Diamond; “I know.”
+
+Then he was silent, but, I confess, appeared more thoughtful than
+satisfied.
+
+The next time I saw him, he looked paler than usual.
+
+“Have you seen your friend again?” I asked him.
+
+“Yes,” he answered, solemnly.
+
+“Did she take you out with her?”
+
+“No. She did not speak to me. I woke all at once, as I generally do when
+I am going to see her, and there she was against the door into the big
+room, sitting just as I saw her sit on her own doorstep, as white as
+snow, and her eyes as blue as the heart of an iceberg. She looked at me,
+but never moved or spoke.”
+
+“Weren't you afraid?” I asked.
+
+“No. Why should I have been?” he answered. “I only felt a little cold.”
+
+“Did she stay long?”
+
+“I don't know. I fell asleep again. I think I have been rather cold ever
+since though,” he added with a smile.
+
+I did not quite like this, but I said nothing.
+
+Four days after, I called again at the Mound. The maid who opened
+the door looked grave, but I suspected nothing. When I reached the
+drawing-room, I saw Mrs. Raymond had been crying.
+
+“Haven't you heard?” she said, seeing my questioning looks.
+
+“I've heard nothing,” I answered.
+
+“This morning we found our dear little Diamond lying on the floor of the
+big attic-room, just outside his own door--fast asleep, as we thought.
+But when we took him up, we did not think he was asleep. We saw
+that----”
+
+Here the kind-hearted lady broke out crying afresh.
+
+“May I go and see him?” I asked.
+
+“Yes,” she sobbed. “You know your way to the top of the tower.”
+
+I walked up the winding stair, and entered his room. A lovely figure, as
+white and almost as clear as alabaster, was lying on the bed. I saw at
+once how it was. They thought he was dead. I knew that he had gone to
+the back of the north wind.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's At the Back of the North Wind, by George MacDonald
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