I am afraid you would not keep hold of me, and if I were to drop you, I don’t know what might happen; so I have been making a place for you in my hair. Come.”
Diamond held out his arms, for with that grand face looking at him, he believed like a baby. She took him in her hands, threw him over her shoulder, and said, “Get in, Diamond.”
And Diamond parted her hair with his hands, crept between, and feeling about soon found the woven nest. It was just like a pocket, or like the shawl in which gipsy women carry their children. North Wind put her hands to her back, felt all about the nest, and finding it safe, said—
“Are you comfortable, Diamond?”
“Yes, indeed,” answered Diamond.
The next moment he was rising in the air. North Wind grew towering up to the place of the clouds. Her hair went streaming out from her, till it spread like a mist over the stars. She flung herself abroad in space.
Diamond held on by two of the twisted ropes which, parted and interwoven, formed his shelter, for he could not help being a little afraid. As soon as he had come to himself, he peeped through the woven meshes, for he did not dare to look over the top of the nest. The earth was rushing past like a river or a sea below him. Trees and water and green grass hurried away beneath. A great roar of wild animals rose as they rushed over the Zoological Gardens, mixed with a chattering of monkeys and a screaming of birds; but it died away in a moment behind them. And now there was nothing but the roofs of houses, sweeping along like a great torrent of stones and rocks. Chimney-pots fell, and tiles flew from the roofs; but it looked to him as if they were left behind by the roofs and the chimneys as they scudded away. There was a great roaring, for the wind was dashing against London like a sea; but at North Wind’s back Diamond, of course, felt nothing of it all. He was in a perfect calm. He could hear the sound of it, that was all.
By and by he raised himself and looked over the edge of his nest. There were the houses rushing up and shooting away below him, like a fierce torrent of rocks instead of water. Then he looked up to the sky, but could see no stars; they were hidden by the blinding masses of the lady’s hair which swept between. He began to wonder whether she would hear him if he spoke. He would try.
“Please, North Wind,” he said, “what is that noise?”
From high over his head came the voice of North Wind, answering him, gently—
“The noise of my besom. I am the old woman that sweeps the cobwebs from the sky; only I’m busy with the floor now.”
“What makes the houses look as if they were running away?”
“I am sweeping so fast over them.”
“But, please, North Wind, I knew London was very big, but I didn’t know it was so big as this. It seems as if we should never get away from it.”
“We are going round and round, else we should have left it long ago.”
“Is this the way you sweep, North Wind?”
“Yes; I go round and round with my great besom.”
“Please, would you mind going a little slower, for I want to see the streets?”
“You won’t see much now.”
“Why?”
“Because I have nearly swept all the people home.”
“Oh! I forgot,” said Diamond, and was quiet after that, for he did not want to be troublesome.
But she dropped a little towards the roofs of the houses, and Diamond could see down into the streets. There were very few people about, though. The lamps flickered and flared again, but nobody seemed to want them.
Suddenly Diamond espied a little girl coming along a street. She was dreadfully blown by the wind, and a broom she was trailing behind her was very troublesome. It seemed as if the wind had a spite at her—it kept worrying her like a wild beast, and tearing at her rags. She was so lonely there!
“Oh! please, North Wind,” he cried, “won’t you help that little girl?”
“No, Diamond; I mustn’t leave my work.”
“But why shouldn’t you be kind to her?”
“I am kind to her. I am sweeping the wicked smells away.”
“But you’re kinder to me, dear North Wind. Why shouldn’t you be as kind to her as you are to me?”
“There are reasons, Diamond. Everybody can’t be done to all the same. Everybody is not ready for the same thing.”
“But I don’t see why I should be kinder used than she.”
“Do you think nothing’s to be done but what you can see, Diamond, you silly! It’s all right. Of course you can help her if you like. You’ve got nothing particular to do at this moment; I have.”
“Oh! do let me help her, then. But you won’t be able to wait, perhaps?”
“No, I can’t wait; you must do it yourself. And, mind, the wind will get a hold of you, too.”
“Don’t you want me to help her, North Wind?”
“Not without having some idea what will happen. If you break down and cry, that won’t be much of a help to her, and it will make a goose of little Diamond.”
“I want to go,” said Diamond. “Only there’s just one thing—how am I to get home?”
“If you’re anxious about that, perhaps you had better go with me. I am bound to take you home again, if you do.”
“There!” cried Diamond, who was still looking after the little girl. “I’m sure the wind will blow her over, and perhaps kill her. Do let me go.”
They had been sweeping more slowly along the line of the street. There was a lull in the roaring.
“Well, though I cannot promise to take you home,” said North Wind, as she sank nearer and nearer to the tops of the houses, “I can promise you it will be all right in the end. You will get home somehow. Have you made up your mind what to do?”
“Yes; to help the little girl,” said Diamond firmly.
The same moment North Wind dropt into the street and stood, only a tall lady, but with her hair flying up over the housetops. She put her hands to her back, took Diamond, and set him down in the street. The same moment he was caught in the fierce coils of the blast, and all but blown away. North Wind stepped back a step, and at once towered in stature to the height of the houses. A chimney-pot clashed at Diamond’s feet. He turned in terror, but it was to look for the little girl, and when he turned again the lady had vanished, and the wind was roaring along the street as if it had been the bed of an invisible torrent. The little girl was scudding before the blast, her hair flying too, and behind her she dragged her broom. Her little legs were going as fast as ever they could to keep her from falling. Diamond crept into the shelter of a doorway, thinking to stop her; but she passed him like a bird, crying gently and pitifully.
“Stop! stop! little girl,” shouted Diamond, starting in pursuit.
“I can’t,” wailed the girl, “the wind won’t leave go of me.”
Diamond
