“Perhaps if she were taught to be nice and clean, and only speak gentle words.”
“Mother could teach her that,” interrupted Diamond.
“And to dress babies, and feed them, and take care of them,” Mr. Raymond proceeded, “she might get a place as a nurse somewhere, you know. People do give money for that.”
“Then I’ll ask mother,” said Diamond.
“But you’ll have to give her her food then; and your father, not being strong, has enough to do already without that.”
“But here’s me,” said Diamond: “I help him out with it. When he’s tired of driving, up I get. It don’t make any difference to old Diamond. I don’t mean he likes me as well as my father—of course he can’t, you know—nobody could; but he does his duty all the same. It’s got to be done, you know, sir; and Diamond’s a good horse—isn’t he, sir?”
“From your description I should say certainly; but I have not the pleasure of his acquaintance myself.”
“Don’t you think he will go to heaven, sir?”
“That I don’t know anything about,” said Mr. Raymond. “I confess I should be glad to think so,” he added, smiling thoughtfully.
“I’m sure he’ll get to the back of the north wind, anyhow,” said Diamond to himself; but he had learned to be very careful of saying such things aloud.
“Isn’t it rather too much for him to go in the cab all day and every day?” resumed Mr. Raymond.
“So father says, when he feels his ribs of a morning. But then he says the old horse do eat well, and the moment he’s had his supper, down he goes, and never gets up till he’s called; and, for the legs of him, father says that makes no end of a differ. Some horses, sir! they won’t lie down all night long, but go to sleep on their four pins, like a haystack, father says. I think it’s very stupid of them, and so does old Diamond. But then I suppose they don’t know better, and so they can’t help it. We mustn’t be too hard upon them, father says.”
“Your father must be a good man, Diamond.” Diamond looked up in Mr. Raymond’s face, wondering what he could mean.
“I said your father must be a good man, Diamond.”
“Of course,” said Diamond. “How could he drive a cab if he wasn’t?”
“There are some men who drive cabs who are not very good,” objected Mr. Raymond.
Diamond remembered the drunken cabman, and saw that his friend was right.
“Ah, but,” he returned, “he must be, you know, with such a horse as old Diamond.”
“That does make a difference,” said Mr. Raymond. “But it is quite enough that he is a good man without our trying to account for it. Now, if you like, I will give you a proof that I think him a good man. I am going away on the Continent for a while—for three months, I believe—and I am going to let my house to a gentleman who does not want the use of my brougham. My horse is nearly as old, I fancy, as your Diamond, but I don’t want to part with him, and I don’t want him to be idle; for nobody, as you say, ought to be idle; but neither do I want him to be worked very hard. Now, it has come into my head that perhaps your father would take charge of him, and work him under certain conditions.”
“My father will do what’s right,” said Diamond. “I’m sure of that.”
“Well, so I think. Will you ask him when he comes home to call and have a little chat with me—today, some time?”
“He must have his dinner first,” said Diamond. “No, he’s got his dinner with him today. It must be after he’s had his tea.”
“Of course, of course. Any time will do. I shall be at home all day.”
“Very well, sir. I will tell him. You may be sure he will come. My father thinks you a very kind gentleman, and I know he is right, for I know your very own self, sir.”
Mr. Raymond smiled, and as they had now reached his door, they parted, and Diamond went home. As soon as his father entered the house, Diamond gave him Mr. Raymond’s message, and recounted the conversation that had preceded it. His father said little, but took thought-sauce to his bread and butter, and as soon as he had finished his meal, rose, saying:
“I will go to your friend directly, Diamond. It would be a grand thing to get a little more money. We do want it.” Diamond accompanied his father to Mr. Raymond’s door, and there left him.
He was shown at once into Mr. Raymond’s study, where he gazed with some wonder at the multitude of books on the walls, and thought what a learned man Mr. Raymond must be.
Presently Mr. Raymond entered, and after saying much the same about his old horse, made the following distinct proposal—one not over-advantageous to Diamond’s father, but for which he had reasons—namely, that Joseph should have the use of Mr. Raymond’s horse while he was away, on condition that he never worked him more than six hours a day, and fed him well, and that, besides, he should take Nanny home as soon as she was able to leave the hospital, and provide for her as one of his own children, neither better nor worse—so long, that is, as he had the horse.
Diamond’s father could not help thinking it a pretty close bargain. He should have both the girl and the horse to feed, and only six hours’ work out of the horse.
“It will save your own horse,” said Mr. Raymond.
“That is true,” answered Joseph; “but all I can get by my own horse is only
