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.

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