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.”