DIAMOND and his mother sat down upon the edge of the rough grass that bordered the sand. The sun was just far enough past its highest not to shine in their eyes when they looked eastward. A sweet little wind blew on their left side, and comforted the mother without letting her know what it was that comforted her. Away before them stretched the sparkling waters of the ocean, every wave of which flashed out its own delight back in the face of the great sun, which looked down from the stillness of its blue house with glorious silent face upon its flashing children. On each hand the shore rounded outwards, forming a little bay. There were no white cliffs here, as further north and south, and the place was rather dreary, but the sky got at them so much the better. Not a house, not a creature was within sight. Dry sand was about their feet, and under them thin wiry grass, that just managed to grow out of the poverty-stricken shore. “Oh dear!” said Diamond's mother, with a deep sigh, “it's a sad world!” “Is it?” said Diamond. “I didn't know.” “How should you know, child? You've been too well taken care of, I trust.” “Oh yes, I have,” returned Diamond. “I'm sorry! I thought you were taken care of too. I thought my father took care of you. I will ask him about it. I think he must have forgotten.” “Dear boy!” said his mother, “your father's the best man in the world.” “So I thought!” returned Diamond with triumph. “I was sure of it!--Well, doesn't he take very good care of you?” “Yes, yes, he does,” answered his mother, bursting into tears. “But who's to take care of him? And how is he to take care of us if he's got nothing to eat himself?” “Oh dear!” said Diamond with a gasp; “hasn't he got anything to eat? Oh! I must go home to him.” “No, no, child. He's not come to that yet. But what's to become of us, I don't know.” “Are you very hungry, mother? There's the basket. I thought you put something to eat in it.” “O you darling stupid! I didn't say I was hungry,” returned his mother, smiling through her tears. “Then I don't understand you at all,” said Diamond. “Do tell me what's the matter.” “There are people in the world who have nothing to eat, Diamond.” “Then I suppose they don't stop in it any longer. They--they--what you call--die--don't they?” “Yes, they do. How would you like that?” “I don't know. I never tried. But I suppose they go where they get something to eat.” “Like enough they don't want it,” said his mother, petulantly. “That's all right then,” said Diamond, thinking I daresay more than he chose to put in words. “Is it though? Poor boy! how little you know about things! Mr. Coleman's lost all his money, and your father has nothing to do, and we shall have nothing to eat by and by.” “Are you sure, mother?” “Sure of what?” “Sure that we shall have nothing to eat.” “No, thank Heaven! I'm not sure of it. I hope not.” “Then I can't understand it, mother. There's a piece of gingerbread in the basket, I know.”