“Both are easier than to blow a tulip open. But I scarcely know the
difference between hard and easy. I am always able for what I have to
do. When I see my work, I just rush at it--and it is done. But I mustn't
chatter. I have got to sink a ship to-night.”
“Sink a ship! What! with men in it?”
“Yes, and women too.”
“How dreadful! I wish you wouldn't talk so.”
“It is rather dreadful. But it is my work. I must do it.”
“I hope you won't ask me to go with you.”
“No, I won't ask you. But you must come for all that.”
“I won't then.”
“Won't you?” And North Wind grew a tall lady, and looked him in the
eyes, and Diamond said--
“Please take me. You cannot be cruel.”
“No; I could not be cruel if I would. I can do nothing cruel, although I
often do what looks like cruel to those who do not know what I really am
doing. The people they say I drown, I only carry away to--to--to--well,
the back of the North Wind--that is what they used to call it long ago,
only I never saw the place.”
“How can you carry them there if you never saw it?”
“I know the way.”
“But how is it you never saw it?”
“Because it is behind me.”
“But you can look round.”
“Not far enough to see my own back. No; I always look before me. In
fact, I grow quite blind and deaf when I try to see my back. I only mind
my work.”
“But how does it be your work?”
“Ah, that I can't tell you. I only know it is, because when I do it I
feel all right, and when I don't I feel all wrong. East Wind says--only
one does not exactly know how much to believe of what she says, for she
is very naughty sometimes--she says it is all managed by a baby; but
whether she is good or naughty when she says that, I don't know. I just
stick to my work. It is all one to me to let a bee out of a tulip, or to
sweep the cobwebs from the sky. You would like to go with me to-night?”
“I don't want to see a ship sunk.”
“But suppose I had to take you?”
“Why, then, of course I must go.”
“There's a good Diamond.--I think I had better be growing a bit. Only
you must go to bed first. I can't take you till you're in bed. That's
the law about the children. So I had better go and do something else
first.”
“Very well, North Wind,” said Diamond. “What are you going to do first,
if you please?”
“I think I may tell you. Jump up on the top of the wall, there.”
“I can't.”
“Ah! and I can't help you--you haven't been to bed yet, you see. Come
out to the road with me, just in front of the coach-house, and I will
show you.”
North Wind grew very small indeed, so small that she could not have
blown the dust off a dusty miller, as the Scotch children call a yellow
auricula. Diamond could not even see the blades of grass move as she
flitted along by his foot. They left the lawn, went out by the wicket
in the-coach-house gates, and then crossed the road to the low wall that
separated it from the river.
“You can get up on this wall, Diamond,” said North Wind.
“Yes; but my mother has forbidden me.”
“Then don't,” said North Wind.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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