CHAPTER VIII. THE EAST WINDOW THAT Diamond had fallen fast asleep is very evident from the strange things he now fancied as taking place. For he thought he heard a sound as of whispering up in the great window. He tried to open his eyes, but he could not. And the whispering went on and grew louder and louder, until he could hear every word that was said. He thought it was the Apostles talking about him. But he could not open his eyes. “And how comes he to be lying there, St. Peter?” said one. “I think I saw him a while ago up in the gallery, under the Nicodemus window. Perhaps he has fallen down. “What do you think, St. Matthew?” “I don't think he could have crept here after falling from such a height. He must have been killed.” “What are we to do with him? We can't leave him lying there. And we could not make him comfortable up here in the window: it's rather crowded already. What do you say, St. Thomas?” “Let's go down and look at him.” There came a rustling, and a chinking, for some time, and then there was a silence, and Diamond felt somehow that all the Apostles were standing round him and looking down on him. And still he could not open his eyes. “What is the matter with him, St. Luke?” asked one. “There's nothing the matter with him,” answered St. Luke, who must have joined the company of the Apostles from the next window, one would think. “He's in a sound sleep.” “I have it,” cried another. “This is one of North Wind's tricks. She has caught him up and dropped him at our door, like a withered leaf or a foundling baby. I don't understand that woman's conduct, I must say. As if we hadn't enough to do with our money, without going taking care of other people's children! That's not what our forefathers built cathedrals for.” Now Diamond could not bear to hear such things against North Wind, who, he knew, never played anybody a trick. She was far too busy with her own work for that. He struggled hard to open his eyes, but without success. “She should consider that a church is not a place for pranks, not to mention that we live in it,” said another. “It certainly is disrespectful of her. But she always is disrespectful. What right has she to bang at our windows as she has been doing the whole of this night? I daresay there is glass broken somewhere. I know my blue robe is in a dreadful mess with the rain first and the dust after. It will cost me shillings to clean it.”