Diamond took her hand. It was cold, but so pleasant and full of life, it
was better than warm. She led him across the garden. With one bound she
was on the top of the wall. Diamond was left at the foot.
“Stop, stop!” he cried. “Please, I can't jump like that.”
“You don't try” said North Wind, who from the top looked down a foot
taller than before.
“Give me your hand again, and I will, try” said Diamond.
She reached down, Diamond laid hold of her hand, gave a great spring,
and stood beside her.
“This is nice!” he said.
Another bound, and they stood in the road by the river. It was full
tide, and the stars were shining clear in its depths, for it lay still,
waiting for the turn to run down again to the sea. They walked along its
side. But they had not walked far before its surface was covered with
ripples, and the stars had vanished from its bosom.
And North Wind was now tall as a full-grown girl. Her hair was flying
about her head, and the wind was blowing a breeze down the river. But
she turned aside and went up a narrow lane, and as she went her hair
fell down around her.
“I have some rather disagreeable work to do to-night,” she said, “before
I get out to sea, and I must set about it at once. The disagreeable work
must be looked after first.”
So saying, she laid hold of Diamond and began to run, gliding along
faster and faster. Diamond kept up with her as well as he could. She
made many turnings and windings, apparently because it was not quite
easy to get him over walls and houses. Once they ran through a hall
where they found back and front doors open. At the foot of the stair
North Wind stood still, and Diamond, hearing a great growl, started in
terror, and there, instead of North Wind, was a huge wolf by his side.
He let go his hold in dismay, and the wolf bounded up the stair. The
windows of the house rattled and shook as if guns were firing, and the
sound of a great fall came from above. Diamond stood with white face
staring up at the landing.
“Surely,” he thought, “North Wind can't be eating one of the children!”
Coming to himself all at once, he rushed after her with his little fist
clenched. There were ladies in long trains going up and down the stairs,
and gentlemen in white neckties attending on them, who stared at him,
but none of them were of the people of the house, and they said nothing.
Before he reached the head of the stair, however, North Wind met him,
took him by the hand, and hurried down and out of the house.
“I hope you haven't eaten a baby, North Wind!” said Diamond, very
solemnly.
North Wind laughed merrily, and went tripping on faster. Her grassy robe
swept and swirled about her steps, and wherever it passed over withered
leaves, they went fleeing and whirling in spirals, and running on their
edges like wheels, all about her feet.
“No,” she said at last, “I did not eat a baby. You would not have had
to ask that foolish question if you had not let go your hold of me. You
would have seen how I served a nurse that was calling a child bad names,
and telling her she was wicked. She had been drinking. I saw an ugly gin
bottle in a cupboard.”
“And you frightened her?” said Diamond.
“I believe so!” answered North Wind laughing merrily. “I flew at her
throat, and she tumbled over on the floor with such a crash that they
ran in. She'll be turned away to-morrow--and quite time, if they knew as
much as I do.”
“But didn't you frighten the little one?”
“She never saw me. The woman would not have seen me either if she had
not been wicked.”
“Oh!” said Diamond, dubiously.
“Why should you see things,” returned North Wind, “that you wouldn't
understand or know what to do with? Good people see good things; bad
people, bad things.”
“Then are you a bad thing?”
“No. For you see me, Diamond, dear,” said the girl, and she looked down
at him, and Diamond saw the loving eyes of the great lady beaming from
the depths of her falling hair.
“I had to make myself look like a bad thing before she could see me. If
I had put on any other shape than a wolf's she would not have seen me,
for that is what is growing to be her own shape inside of her.”
“I don't know what you mean,” said Diamond, “but I suppose it's all
right.”
They were now climbing the slope of a grassy ascent. It was Primrose
Hill, in fact, although Diamond had never heard of it. The moment they
reached the top, North Wind stood and turned her face towards London The
stars were still shining clear and cold overhead. There was not a cloud
to be seen. The air was sharp, but Diamond did not find it cold.
“Now,” said the lady, “whatever you do, do not let my hand go. I might
have lost you the last time, only I was not in a hurry then: now I am in
a hurry.”
Yet she stood still for a moment.
CHAPTER IV. NORTH WIND
AND as she stood looking towards London, Diamond saw that she was
trembling.
“Are you cold, North Wind?” he asked.
“No, Diamond,” she answered, looking down upon him with a smile; “I am
only getting ready to sweep one of my rooms. Those careless, greedy,
untidy children make it in such a mess.”
As she spoke he could have told by her voice, if he had not seen with
his eyes, that she was growing larger and larger. Her head went up and
up towards the stars; and as she grew, still trembling through all her
body, her hair also grew--longer and longer, and lifted itself from her
head, and went out in black waves. The next moment, however, it fell
back around her, and she grew less and less till she was only a tall
woman. Then she put her hands behind her head, and gathered some of her
hair, and began weaving and knotting it together. When she had done, she
bent down her beautiful face close to his, and said--
“Diamond, I am afraid you would not keep hold of me, and if I were to
drop you, I don't know what might happen; so I have been making a place
for you in my hair. Come.”
Diamond held out his arms, for with that grand face looking at him,
he believed like a baby. She took him in her hands, threw him over her
shoulder, and said, “Get in, Diamond.”
And Diamond parted her hair with his hands, crept between, and feeling
about soon found the woven nest. It was just like a pocket, or like
the shawl in which gipsy women carry their children. North Wind put her
hands to her back, felt all about the nest, and finding it safe, said--
“Are you comfortable, Diamond?”
“Yes, indeed,” answered Diamond.
The next moment he was rising in the air. North Wind grew towering up to
the place of the clouds. Her hair went streaming out from her, till it
spread like a mist over the stars. She flung herself abroad in space.
Diamond held on by two of the twisted ropes which, parted and
interwoven, formed his shelter, for he could not help being a little
afraid. As soon as he had come to himself, he peeped through the woven
meshes, for he did not dare to look over the top of the nest. The earth
was rushing past like a river or a sea below him. Trees and water and
green grass hurried away beneath. A great roar of wild animals rose
as they rushed over the Zoological Gardens, mixed with a chattering of
monkeys and a screaming of birds; but it died away in a moment behind
them. And now there was nothing but the roofs of houses, sweeping along
like a great torrent of stones and rocks. Chimney-pots fell, and tiles
flew from the roofs; but it looked to him as if they were left behind
by the roofs and the chimneys as they scudded away. There was a great
roaring, for the wind was dashing against London like a sea; but at
North Wind's back Diamond, of course, felt nothing of it all. He was in
a perfect calm. He could hear the sound of it, that was all.
By and by he raised himself and looked over the edge of his nest. There
were the houses rushing up and shooting away below him, like a fierce
torrent of rocks instead of water. Then he looked up to the sky, but
could see no stars; they were hidden by the blinding masses of the
lady's hair which swept between. He began to wonder whether she would
hear him if he spoke. He would try.
“Please, North Wind,” he said, “what is that noise?”
From high over his head came the voice of North Wind, answering him,
gently--
“The noise of my besom. I am the old woman that sweeps the cobwebs from
the sky; only I'm busy with the floor now.”
“What makes the houses look as if they were running away?”
“I am sweeping so fast over them.”
“But, please, North Wind, I knew London was very big, but I didn't know
it was so big as this. It seems as if we should never get away from it.”
“We are going round and round, else we should have left it long ago.”
“Is this the way you sweep, North Wind?”
“Yes; I go round and round with my great besom.”
“Please, would you mind going a little slower, for I want to see the
streets?”
“You won't see much now.”
“Why?”
“Because I have nearly swept all the people home.”
“Oh! I forgot,” said Diamond, and was quiet after that, for he did not
want to be troublesome.
But she dropped a little towards the roofs of the houses, and Diamond
could see down into the streets. There were very few people about,
though. The lamps flickered and flared again, but nobody seemed to want
them.
Suddenly Diamond espied a little girl coming along a street. She was
dreadfully blown by the wind, and a broom she was trailing behind her
was very troublesome. It seemed as if the wind had a spite at her--it
kept worrying her like a wild beast, and tearing at her rags. She was so
lonely there!
“Oh! please, North Wind,” he cried, “won't you help that little girl?”
“No, Diamond; I mustn't leave my work.”
“But why shouldn't you be kind to her?”
“I am kind to her. I am sweeping the wicked smells away.”
“But you're kinder to me, dear North Wind. Why shouldn't you be as kind
to her as you are to me?”
“There are reasons, Diamond. Everybody can't be done to all the same.
Everybody is not ready for the same thing.”
“But I don't see why I should be kinder used than she.”
“Do you think nothing's to be done but what you can see, Diamond, you
silly! It's all right. Of course you can help her if you like. You've
got nothing particular to do at this moment; I have.”
“Oh! do let me help her, then. But you won't be able to wait, perhaps?”
“No, I can't wait; you must do it yourself. And, mind, the wind will get
a hold of you, too.”
“Don't you want me to help her, North Wind?”
“Not without having some idea what will happen. If you break down and
cry, that won't be much of a help to her, and it will make a goose of
little Diamond.”
“I want to go,” said Diamond. “Only there's just one thing--how am I to
get home?”
“If you're anxious about that, perhaps you had better go with me. I am
bound to take you home again, if you do.”
“There!” cried Diamond, who was still looking after the little girl.
“I'm sure the wind will blow her over, and perhaps kill her. Do let me
go.”
They had been sweeping more slowly along the line of the street. There
was a lull in the roaring.
“Well, though I cannot promise to take you home,” said North Wind, as
she sank nearer and nearer to the tops of the houses, “I can promise
you it will be all right in the end. You will get home somehow. Have you
made up your mind what to do?”
“Yes; to help the little girl,” said Diamond firmly.
The same moment North Wind dropt into the street and stood, only a tall
lady, but with her hair flying up over the housetops. She put her hands
to her back, took Diamond, and set him down in the street. The same
moment he was caught in the fierce coils of the blast, and all but blown
away. North Wind stepped back a step, and at once towered in stature to
the height of the houses. A chimney-pot clashed at Diamond's feet. He
turned in terror, but it was to look for the little girl, and when he
turned again the lady had vanished, and the wind was roaring along the
street as if it had been the bed of an invisible torrent. The little
girl was scudding before the blast, her hair flying too, and behind her
she dragged her broom. Her little legs were going as fast as ever they
could to keep her from falling. Diamond crept into the shelter of a
doorway, thinking to stop her; but she passed him like a bird, crying
gently and pitifully.
“Stop! stop! little girl,” shouted Diamond, starting in pursuit.
“I can't,” wailed the girl, “the wind won't leave go of me.”
Diamond could run faster than she, and he had no broom. In a few moments
he had caught her by the frock, but it tore in his hand, and away went
the little girl. So he had to run again, and this time he ran so fast
that he got before her, and turning round caught her in his arms, when
down they went both together, which made the little girl laugh in the
midst of her crying.
“Where are you going?” asked Diamond, rubbing the elbow that had stuck
farthest out. The arm it belonged to was twined round a lamp-post as he
stood between the little girl and the wind.
“Home,” she said, gasping for breath.
“Then I will go with you,” said Diamond.
And then they were silent for a while, for the wind blew worse than
ever, and they had both to hold on to the lamp-post.
“Where is your crossing?” asked the girl at length.
“I don't sweep,” answered Diamond.
“What do you do, then?” asked she. “You ain't big enough for most
things.”
“I don't know what I do do,” answered he, feeling rather ashamed.
“Nothing, I suppose. My father's Mr. Coleman's coachman.”
“Have you a father?” she said, staring at him as if a boy with a father
was a natural curiosity.
“Yes. Haven't you?” returned Diamond.
“No; nor mother neither. Old Sal's all I've got.” And she began to cry
again.
“I wouldn't go to her if she wasn't good to me,” said Diamond.
“But you must go somewheres.”
“Move on,” said the voice of a policeman behind them.
“I told you so,” said the girl. “You must go somewheres. They're always
at it.”
“But old Sal doesn't beat you, does she?”
“I wish she would.”
“What do you mean?” asked Diamond, quite bewildered.
“She would if she was my mother. But she wouldn't lie abed a-cuddlin' of
her ugly old bones, and laugh to hear me crying at the door.”
“You don't mean she won't let you in to-night?”
“It'll be a good chance if she does.”
“Why are you out so late, then?” asked Diamond.
“My crossing's a long way off at the West End, and I had been indulgin'
in door-steps and mewses.”
“We'd better have a try anyhow,” said Diamond. “Come along.”
As he spoke Diamond thought he caught a glimpse of North Wind turning a