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