over our heads.

I went into the house, where I visited often in the evenings. When I
came out, there was a little wind blowing, very pleasant after the heat
of the day, for although it was late summer now, it was still hot. The
tree-tops were swinging about in it. I took my way past the beech, and
called up to see if Diamond were still in his nest in its rocking head.

"Are you there, Diamond?" I said.

"Yes, sir," came his clear voice in reply.

"Isn't it growing too dark for you to get down safely?"

"Oh, no, sir--if I take time to it. I know my way so well, and never let
go with one hand till I've a good hold with the other."

"Do be careful," I insisted--foolishly, seeing the boy was as careful as
he could be already.

"I'm coming," he returned. "I've got all the moon I want to-night."

I heard a rustling and a rustling drawing nearer and nearer. Three or
four minutes elapsed, and he appeared at length creeping down his little
ladder. I took him in my arms, and set him on the ground.

"Thank you, sir," he said. "That's the north wind blowing, isn't it,
sir?"

"I can't tell," I answered. "It feels cool and kind, and I think it may
be. But I couldn't be sure except it were stronger, for a gentle wind
might turn any way amongst the trunks of the trees."

"I shall know when I get up to my own room," said Diamond. "I think I
hear my mistress's bell. Good-night, sir."

He ran to the house, and I went home.

His mistress had rung for him only to send him to bed, for she was very
careful over him and I daresay thought he was not looking well. When he
reached his own room, he opened both his windows, one of which looked to
the north and the other to the east, to find how the wind blew. It blew
right in at the northern window. Diamond was very glad, for he thought
perhaps North Wind herself would come now: a real north wind had never
blown all the time since he left London. But, as she always came of
herself, and never when he was looking for her, and indeed almost never
when he was thinking of her, he shut the east window, and went to bed.
Perhaps some of my readers may wonder that he could go to sleep with
such an expectation; and, indeed, if I had not known him, I should have
wondered at it myself; but it was one of his peculiarities, and seemed
nothing strange in him. He was so full of quietness that he could go
to sleep almost any time, if he only composed himself and let the sleep
come. This time he w