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If
he
never
knew
a
boy
so
good
,
did
he
ever
know
a
boy
that
had
been
to
the
back
of
the
north
wind
?
It
was
not
in
the
least
strange
of
Diamond
to
behave
as
he
did
;
on
the
contrary
,
it
was
thoroughly
sensible
of
him
.
We
shall
see
how
he
got
on
.
THE
wind
blew
loud
,
but
Diamond
slept
a
deep
sleep
,
and
never
heard
it
.
My
own
impression
is
that
every
time
when
Diamond
slept
well
and
remembered
nothing
about
it
in
the
morning
,
he
had
been
all
that
night
at
the
back
of
the
north
wind
.
I
am
almost
sure
that
was
how
he
woke
so
refreshed
,
and
felt
so
quiet
and
hopeful
all
the
day
.
Indeed
he
said
this
much
,
though
not
to
me
—
that
always
when
he
woke
from
such
a
sleep
there
was
a
something
in
his
mind
,
he
could
not
tell
what
—
could
not
tell
whether
it
was
the
last
far
-
off
sounds
of
the
river
dying
away
in
the
distance
,
or
some
of
the
words
of
the
endless
song
his
mother
had
read
to
him
on
the
sea
-
shore
.
Sometimes
he
thought
it
must
have
been
the
twittering
of
the
swallows
—
over
the
shallows
,
you
,
know
;
but
it
may
have
been
the
chirping
of
the
dingy
sparrows
picking
up
their
breakfast
in
the
yard
—
how
can
I
tell
?
I
don
’
t
know
what
I
know
,
I
only
know
what
I
think
;
and
to
tell
the
truth
,
I
am
more
for
the
swallows
than
the
sparrows
.
When
he
knew
he
was
coming
awake
,
he
would
sometimes
try
hard
to
keep
hold
of
the
words
of
what
seemed
a
new
song
,
one
he
had
not
heard
before
—
a
song
in
which
the
words
and
the
music
somehow
appeared
to
be
all
one
;
but
even
when
he
thought
he
had
got
them
well
fixed
in
his
mind
,
ever
as
he
came
awaker
—
as
he
would
say
—
one
line
faded
away
out
of
it
,
and
then
another
,
and
then
another
,
till
at
last
there
was
nothing
left
but
some
lovely
picture
of
water
or
grass
or
daisies
,
or
something
else
very
common
,
but
with
all
the
commonness
polished
off
it
,
and
the
lovely
soul
of
it
,
which
people
so
seldom
see
,
and
,
alas
!
yet
seldomer
believe
in
,
shining
out
.
But
after
that
he
would
sing
the
oddest
,
loveliest
little
songs
to
the
baby
—
of
his
own
making
,
his
mother
said
;
but
Diamond
said
he
did
not
make
them
;
they
were
made
somewhere
inside
him
,
and
he
knew
nothing
about
them
till
they
were
coming
out
.
When
he
woke
that
first
morning
he
got
up
at
once
,
saying
to
himself
,
“
I
’
ve
been
ill
long
enough
,
and
have
given
a
great
deal
of
trouble
;
I
must
try
and
be
of
use
now
,
and
help
my
mother
.
”
When
he
went
into
her
room
he
found
her
lighting
the
fire
,
and
his
father
just
getting
out
of
bed
.
They
had
only
the
one
room
,
besides
the
little
one
,
not
much
more
than
a
closet
,
in
which
Diamond
slept
.
He
began
at
once
to
set
things
to
rights
,
but
the
baby
waking
up
,
he
took
him
,
and
nursed
him
till
his
mother
had
got
the
breakfast
ready
.
She
was
looking
gloomy
,
and
his
father
was
silent
;
and
indeed
except
Diamond
had
done
all
he
possibly
could
to
keep
out
the
misery
that
was
trying
to
get
in
at
doors
and
windows
,
he
too
would
have
grown
miserable
,
and
then
they
would
have
been
all
miserable
together
.
But
to
try
to
make
others
comfortable
is
the
only
way
to
get
right
comfortable
ourselves
,
and
that
comes
partly
of
not
being
able
to
think
so
much
about
ourselves
when
we
are
helping
other
people
.
For
our
Selves
will
always
do
pretty
well
if
we
don
’
t
pay
them
too
much
attention
.
Our
Selves
are
like
some
little
children
who
will
be
happy
enough
so
long
as
they
are
left
to
their
own
games
,
but
when
we
begin
to
interfere
with
them
,
and
make
them
presents
of
too
nice
playthings
,
or
too
many
sweet
things
,
they
begin
at
once
to
fret
and
spoil
.
“
Why
,
Diamond
,
child
!
”
said
his
mother
at
last
,
“
you
’
re
as
good
to
your
mother
as
if
you
were
a
girl
—
nursing
the
baby
,
and
toasting
the
bread
,
and
sweeping
up
the
hearth
!
I
declare
a
body
would
think
you
had
been
among
the
fairies
.
”
Could
Diamond
have
had
greater
praise
or
greater
pleasure
?
You
see
when
he
forgot
his
Self
his
mother
took
care
of
his
Self
,
and
loved
and
praised
his
Self
.
Our
own
praises
poison
our
Selves
,
and
puff
and
swell
them
up
,
till
they
lose
all
shape
and
beauty
,
and
become
like
great
toadstools
.
But
the
praises
of
father
or
mother
do
our
Selves
good
,
and
comfort
them
and
make
them
beautiful
.
They
never
do
them
any
harm
.
If
they
do
any
harm
,
it
comes
of
our
mixing
some
of
our
own
praises
with
them
,
and
that
turns
them
nasty
and
slimy
and
poisonous
.
When
his
father
had
finished
his
breakfast
,
which
he
did
rather
in
a
hurry
,
he
got
up
and
went
down
into
the
yard
to
get
out
his
horse
and
put
him
to
the
cab
.
“
Won
’
t
you
come
and
see
the
cab
,
Diamond
?
”
he
said
.
