“But what’s the good of talking about it that way, when you know it was only a dream? Dreams ain’t true.”
“That one was true, Nanny. You know it was. Didn’t you come to grief for doing what you were told not to do? And isn’t that true?”
“I can’t get any sense into him,” exclaimed Nanny, with an expression of mild despair. “Do you really believe, Diamond, that there’s a house in the moon, with a beautiful lady and a crooked old man and dusters in it?”
“If there isn’t, there’s something better,” he answered, and vanished in the leaves 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 treetops 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 tonight.”
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 went fast asleep as usual.
But he woke in the dim blue night. The moon had vanished. He thought he heard a knocking at his door. “Somebody wants me,” he said to himself, and jumping out of bed, ran to open it.
But there was no one there. He closed it again, and, the noise still continuing, found that another door in the room was rattling. It belonged to a closet, he thought, but he had never been able to open it. The wind blowing in at the window must be shaking it. He would go and see if it was so.
The door now opened quite easily, but to his surprise, instead of a closet he found a long narrow room. The moon, which was sinking in the west, shone in at an open window at the further end. The room was low with a coved ceiling, and occupied the whole top of the house, immediately under the roof. It was quite empty. The yellow light of the half-moon streamed over the dark floor. He was so delighted at the discovery of the strange, desolate, moonlit place close to his own snug little room, that he began to dance and skip about the floor. The wind came in through the door he had left open, and blew about him as he danced, and he kept turning towards it that it might blow in his face. He kept picturing to himself the many places, lovely and desolate, the hillsides and farmyards and treetops and meadows, over which it had blown on its way to The Mound. And as he danced, he grew more and more delighted with the motion and the wind; his feet grew stronger, and his body lighter, until at length it seemed as if he were borne up on the air, and could almost fly. So strong did his feeling become, that at last he began to doubt whether he was not in one of those precious dreams he had so often had, in which he floated about on the air at will. But something made him look up, and to his unspeakable delight, he found his uplifted hands lying in those of North Wind, who was dancing with him, round and round the long bare room, her hair now falling to the floor, now filling the arched ceiling, her eyes shining on him like thinking stars, and the sweetest of grand smiles playing breezily about her beautiful mouth. She was, as so often before, of the height of a rather tall lady. She did not stoop in order to dance with
