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diff --git a/old/nwind10.txt b/old/nwind10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..81dd3ca --- /dev/null +++ b/old/nwind10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11059 @@ + +The Project Gutenberg Edition of At the Back of the North Wind + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + + +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 he 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 woudn'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 the Project Gutenberg Etext of At the Back of the North Wind. + + + diff --git a/old/nwind10.zip b/old/nwind10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6a1632e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/nwind10.zip |