“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.”