CHAPTER IX. HOW DIAMOND GOT TO THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND
Project Gutenberg EPUB3 edition
MacDonald, George
WHEN Diamond went home to breakfast, he found his father and mother already seated at the table. They were both busy with their bread and butter, and Diamond sat himself down in his usual place. His mother looked up at him, and, after watching him for a moment, said:
“I don't think the boy is looking well, husband.”
“Don't you? Well, I don't know. I think he looks pretty bobbish. How do you feel yourself, Diamond, my boy?”
“Quite well, thank you, father; at least, I think I've got a little headache.”
“There! I told you,” said his father and mother both at once.
“The child's very poorly” added his mother.
“The child's quite well,” added his father.
And then they both laughed.
“You see,” said his mother, “I've had a letter from my sister at Sandwich.”
“Sleepy old hole!” said his father.
“Don't abuse the place; there's good people in it,” said his mother.
“Right, old lady,” returned his father; “only I don't believe there are more than two pair of carriage-horses in the whole blessed place.”
“Well, people can get to heaven without carriages—or coachmen either, husband. Not that I should like to go without my coachman, you know. But about the boy?”
“What boy?”
“That boy, there, staring at you with his goggle-eyes.”
“Have I got goggle-eyes, mother?” asked Diamond, a little dismayed.
“Not too goggle,” said his mother, who was quite proud of her boy's eyes, only did not want to make him vain.
“Not too goggle; only you need not stare so.”
“Well, what about him?” said his father.
“I told you I had got a letter.”
“Yes, from your sister; not from Diamond.”
“La, husband! you've got out of bed the wrong leg first this morning, I do believe.”
“I always get out with both at once,” said his father, laughing.
“Well, listen then. His aunt wants the boy to go down and see her.”
“And that's why you want to make out that he ain't looking well.”
“No more he is. I think he had better go.”
“Well, I don't care, if you can find the money,” said his father.
“I'll manage that,” said his mother; and so it was agreed that Diamond should go to Sandwich.
I will not describe the preparations Diamond made. You would have thought he had been going on a three months' voyage. Nor will I describe the journey, for our business is now at the place. He was met at the station by his aunt, a cheerful middle-aged woman, and conveyed in safety to the sleepy old town, as his father called it. And no wonder that it was sleepy, for it was nearly dead of old age.
Diamond went about staring with his beautiful goggle-eyes, at the quaint old streets, and the shops, and the houses. Everything looked very strange, indeed; for here was a town abandoned by its nurse, the sea, like an old oyster left on the shore till it gaped for weariness. It used to be one of the five chief seaports in England, but it began to hold itself too high, and the consequence was the sea grew less and less intimate with it, gradually drew back, and kept more to itself, till at length it left it high and dry: Sandwich was a seaport no more; the sea went on with its own tide-business a long way off, and forgot it. Of course it went to sleep, and had no more to do with ships. That's what comes to cities and nations, and boys and girls, who say, “I can do without your help. I'm enough for myself.”
Diamond soon made great friends with an old woman who kept a toyshop, for his mother had given him twopence for pocket-money before he left, and he had gone into her shop to spend it, and she got talking to him. She looked very funny, because she had not got any teeth, but Diamond liked her, and went often to her shop, although he had nothing to spend there after the twopence was gone.
One afternoon he had been wandering rather wearily about the streets for some time. It was a hot day, and he felt tired. As he passed the toyshop, he stepped in.
“Please may I sit down for a minute on this box?” he said, thinking the old woman was somewhere in the shop. But he got no answer, and sat down without one. Around him were a great many toys of all prices, from a penny up to shillings. All at once he heard a gentle whirring somewhere amongst them. It made him start and look behind him. There were the sails of a windmill going round and round almost close to his ear. He thought at first it must be one of those toys which are wound up and go with clockwork; but no, it was a common penny toy, with the windmill at the end of a whistle, and when the whistle blows the windmill goes. But the wonder was that there was no one at the whistle end blowing, and yet the sails were turning round and round—now faster, now slower, now faster again.
“What can it mean?” said Diamond, aloud.
“It means me,” said the tiniest voice he had ever heard.
“Who are you, please?” asked Diamond.
“Well, really, I begin to be ashamed of you,” said the voice. “I wonder how long it will be before you know me; or how often I might take you in before you got sharp enough to suspect me. You are as bad as a baby that doesn't know his mother in a new bonnet.”
“Not quite so bad as that, dear North Wind,” said Diamond, “for I didn't see you at all, and indeed I don't see you yet, although I recognise your voice. Do grow a little, please.”
“Not a hair's-breadth,” said the voice, and it was the smallest voice that ever spoke. “What are you doing here?”
“I am come to see my aunt. But, please, North Wind, why didn't you come back for me in the church that night?”