“It's not the bed I care about: it's what is in it.--But you just open that window.” “Well, mother says I shouldn't be disobliging; but it's rather hard. You see the north wind will blow right in my face if I do.” “I am the North Wind.” “O-o-oh!” said Diamond, thoughtfully. “Then will you promise not to blow on my face if I open your window?” “I can't promise that.” “But you'll give me the toothache. Mother's got it already.” “But what's to become of me without a window?” “I'm sure I don't know. All I say is, it will be worse for me than for you.” “No; it will not. You shall not be the worse for it--I promise you that. You will be much the better for it. Just you believe what I say, and do as I tell you.” “Well, I can pull the clothes over my head,” said Diamond, and feeling with his little sharp nails, he got hold of the open edge of the paper and tore it off at once. In came a long whistling spear of cold, and struck his little naked chest. He scrambled and tumbled in under the bedclothes, and covered himself up: there was no paper now between him and the voice, and he felt a little--not frightened exactly--I told you he had not learned that yet--but rather queer; for what a strange person this North Wind must be that lived in the great house--“called Out-of-Doors, I suppose,” thought Diamond--and made windows into people's beds! But the voice began again; and he could hear it quite plainly, even with his head under the bed-clothes. It was a still more gentle voice now, although six times as large and loud as it had been, and he thought it sounded a little like his mother's. “What is your name, little boy?” it asked. “Diamond,” answered Diamond, under the bed-clothes. “What a funny name!” “It's a very nice name,” returned its owner. “I don't know that,” said the voice. “Well, I do,” retorted Diamond, a little rudely. “Do you know to whom you are speaking!” “No,” said Diamond. And indeed he did not. For to know a person's name is not always to know the person's self. “Then I must not be angry with you.--You had better look and see, though.” “Diamond is a very pretty name,” persisted the boy, vexed that it should not give satisfaction. “Diamond is a useless thing rather,” said the voice. “That's not true. Diamond is very nice--as big as two--and so quiet all night! And doesn't he make a jolly row in the morning, getting upon his four great legs! It's like thunder.” “You don't seem to know what a diamond is.” “Oh, don't I just! Diamond is a great and good horse; and he sleeps right under me. He is old Diamond, and I am young Diamond; or, if you like it better, for you're very particular, Mr. North Wind, he's big Diamond, and I'm little Diamond; and I don't know which of us my father likes best.” A beautiful laugh, large but very soft and musical, sounded somewhere beside him, but Diamond kept his head under the clothes. “I'm not Mr. North Wind,” said the voice.