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.