At the Back of the North Wind

as he brought his cab up to the other, and moved off the box to the seat beside it. Diamond jumped across, caught at the reins, said “Good night, and thank you, Mr. Stonecrop,” and drove away home, feeling more of a man than he had ever yet had a chance of feeling in all his life. Nor did his father find it necessary to give him a single hint as to his driving. Only I suspect the fact that it was old Diamond, and old Diamond on his way to his stable, may have had something to do with young Diamond’s success.

“Well, child,” said his mother, when he entered the room, “you’ve not been long gone.”

“No, mother; here I am. Give me the baby.”

“The baby’s asleep,” said his mother.

“Then give him to me, and I’ll lay him down.”

But as Diamond took him, he woke up and began to laugh. For he was indeed one of the merriest children. And no wonder, for he was as plump as a plum-pudding, and had never had an ache or a pain that lasted more than five minutes at a time. Diamond sat down with him and began to sing to him.

baby baby babbing
your father’s gone a-cabbing
to catch a shilling for its pence
to make the baby babbing dance
for old Diamond’s a duck
they say he can swim
but the duck of diamonds
is baby that’s him
and of all the swallows
the merriest fellows
that bake their cake
with the water they shake
out of the river
flowing forever
and make dust into clay
on the shiniest day
to build their nest
father’s the best
and mother’s the whitest
and her eyes are the brightest
of all the dams
that watch their lambs
cropping the grass
where the waters pass
singing forever
and of all the lambs
with the shakingest tails
and the jumpingest feet
baby’s the funniest
baby’s the bonniest
and he never wails
and he’s always sweet
and Diamond’s his nurse
and Diamond’s his nurse
and Diamond’s his nurse

When Diamond’s rhymes grew scarce, he always began dancing the baby. Some people wondered that such a child could rhyme as he did, but his rhymes were not very good, for he was only trying to remember what he had heard the river sing at the back of the north wind.

XVII

Diamond Goes On

Diamond became a great favourite with all the men about the mews. Some may think it was not the best place in the world for him to be brought up in; but it must have been, for there he was. At first, he heard a good many rough and bad words; but he did not like them, and so they did him little harm. He did not know in the least what they meant, but there was something in the very sound of them, and in the tone of voice in which they were said, which Diamond felt to be ugly. So they did not even stick to him, not to say get inside him. He never took any notice of them, and his face shone pure and good in the middle of them, like a primrose in a hailstorm. At first, because his face was so quiet and sweet, with a smile always either awake or asleep in his eyes, and because he never heeded their ugly words and rough jokes, they said he wasn’t all there, meaning that he was half an idiot, whereas he was a great deal more there than they had the sense to see. And before long the bad words found themselves ashamed to come out of the men’s mouths when Diamond was near. The one would nudge the other to remind him that the boy was within hearing, and the words choked themselves before they got any farther. When they talked to him nicely he had always a good answer, sometimes a smart one, ready, and that helped much to make them change their minds about him.

One day Jack gave him a currycomb and a brush to try his hand upon old Diamond’s coat. He used them so deftly, so gently, and yet so thoroughly, as far as he could reach, that the man could not help admiring him.

“You must make haste and grow,” he said. “It won’t do to have a horse’s belly clean and his back dirty, you know.”

“Give me a leg,” said Diamond, and in a moment he was on the old horse’s back with the comb and brush. He sat on his withers, and reaching forward as he ate his hay, he curried and he brushed, first at one side of his neck, and then at the other. When that was done he asked for a dressing-comb, and combed his mane thoroughly. Then he pushed himself on to his back, and did his shoulders as far down as he could reach. Then he sat on his croup, and did his back and sides; then he turned around like a monkey, and attacked his hindquarters, and combed his tail. This last was not so easy to manage, for he had to lift it up, and every now and then old Diamond would whisk it out of his hands, and once he sent the comb flying out of the stable door, to the great amusement of the men. But Jack fetched it again, and Diamond began once more, and did not leave off until he had done the whole business fairly well, if not in a first-rate, experienced fashion. All the time the old horse went on eating his hay, and, but with an occasional whisk of his tail when Diamond tickled or scratched him, took no notice of the proceeding. But that was all a pretence, for he knew very well who it was that was perched on his back, and rubbing away at him with the comb and the brush. So he was quite pleased and proud, and perhaps said to himself something like this⁠—

“I’m a stupid old horse, who can’t brush his own coat; but there’s my young godson on my back, cleaning me like an angel.”

I won’t vouch for what