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.”