DIAMOND became a great favourite with all the men about the mews. Some
may think it was not the best place in the world for him to be brought
up in; but it must have been, for there he was. At first, he heard a
good many rough and bad words; but he did not like them, and so they did
him little harm. He did not know in the least what they meant, but there
was something in the very sound of them, and in the tone of voice in
which they were said, which Diamond felt to be ugly. So they did not
even stick to him, not to say get inside him. He never took any notice
of them, and his face shone pure and good in the middle of them, like
a primrose in a hailstorm. At first, because his face was so quiet
and sweet, with a smile always either awake or asleep in his eyes, and
because he never heeded their ugly words and rough jokes, they said he
wasn't all there, meaning that he was half an idiot, whereas he was a
great deal more there than they had the sense to see. And before long
the bad words found themselves ashamed to come out of the men's mouths
when Diamond was near. The one would nudge the other to remind him that
the boy was within hearing, and the words choked themselves before they
got any farther. When they talked to him nicely he had always a good
answer, sometimes a smart one, ready, and that helped much to make them
change their minds about him.
One day Jack gave him a curry-comb and a brush to try his hand upon
old Diamond's coat. He used them so deftly, so gently, and yet so
thoroughly, as far as he could reach, that the man could not help
admiring him.
“You must make haste and, grow” he said. “It won't do to have a horse's
belly clean and his back dirty, you know.”
“Give me a leg,” said Diamond, and in a moment he was on the old horse's
back with the comb and brush. He sat on his withers, and reaching
forward as he ate his hay, he curried and he brushed, first at one side
of his neck, and then at the other. When that was done he asked for a
dressing-comb, and combed his mane thoroughly. Then he pushed himself on
to his back, and did his shoulders as far down as he could reach. Then
he sat on his croup, and did his back and sides; then he turned around
like a monkey, and attacked his hind-quarters, and combed his tail. This
last was not so easy to manage, for he had to lift it up, and every now
and then old Diamond would whisk it out of his hands, and once he sent
the comb flying out of the stable door, to the great amusement of the
men. But Jack fetched it again, and Diamond began once more, and did not
leave off until he had done the whole business fairly well, if not in
a first-rate, experienced fashion. All the time the old horse went
on eating his hay, and, but with an occasional whisk of his tail when
Diamond tickled or scratched him, took no notice of the proceeding.
But that was all a pretence, for he knew very well who it was that
was perched on his back, and rubbing away at him with the comb and the
brush. So he was quite pleased and proud, and perhaps said to himself
something like this--
“I'm a stupid old horse, who can't brush his own coat; but there's my
young godson on my back, cleaning me like an angel.”
I won't vouch for what the old horse was thinking, for it is very
difficult to find out what any old horse is thinking.
“Oh dear!” said Diamond when he had done, “I'm so tired!”
And he laid himself down at full length on old Diamond's back.
By this time all the men in the stable were gathered about the two
Diamonds, and all much amused. One of them lifted him down, and from
that time he was a greater favourite than before. And if ever there was
a boy who had a chance of being a prodigy at cab-driving, Diamond was
that boy, for the strife came to be who should have him out with him on
the box.
His mother, however, was a little shy of the company for him, and
besides she could not always spare him. Also his father liked to have
him himself when he could; so that he was more desired than enjoyed
among the cabmen.
But one way and another he did learn to drive all sorts of horses, and
to drive them well, and that through the most crowded streets in London
City. Of course there was the man always on the box-seat beside him, but
before long there was seldom the least occasion to take the reins
from out of his hands. For one thing he never got frightened, and
consequently was never in too great a hurry. Yet when the moment came
for doing something sharp, he was always ready for it. I must once more
remind my readers that he had been to the back of the north wind.
One day, which was neither washing-day, nor cleaning-day nor
marketing-day, nor Saturday, nor Monday--upon which consequently Diamond
could be spared from the baby--his father took him on his own cab. After
a stray job or two by the way, they drew up in the row upon the stand
between Cockspur Street and Pall Mall. They waited a long time, but
nobody seemed to want to be carried anywhere. By and by ladies would be
going home from the Academy exhibition, and then there would be a chance
of a job.
“Though, to be sure,” said Diamond's father--with what truth I cannot
say, but he believed what he said--“some ladies is very hard, and keeps
you to the bare sixpence a mile, when every one knows that ain't enough
to keep a family and a cab upon. To be sure it's the law; but mayhap
they may get more law than they like some day themselves.”
As it was very hot, Diamond's father got down to have a glass of beer
himself, and give another to the old waterman. He left Diamond on the
box.
A sudden noise got up, and Diamond looked round to see what was the
matter.
There was a crossing near the cab-stand, where a girl was sweeping. Some
rough young imps had picked a quarrel with her, and were now hauling
at her broom to get it away from her. But as they did not pull all
together, she was holding it against them, scolding and entreating
alternately.
Diamond was off his box in a moment, and running to the help of the
girl. He got hold of the broom at her end and pulled along with her. But
the boys proceeded to rougher measures, and one of them hit Diamond on
the nose, and made it bleed; and as he could not let go the broom to
mind his nose, he was soon a dreadful figure. But presently his father
came back, and missing Diamond, looked about. He had to look twice,
however, before he could be sure that that was his boy in the middle
of the tumult. He rushed in, and sent the assailants flying in all
directions. The girl thanked Diamond, and began sweeping as if nothing
had happened, while his father led him away. With the help of old Tom,
the waterman, he was soon washed into decency, and his father set him on
the box again, perfectly satisfied with the account he gave of the cause
of his being in a fray.
“I couldn't let them behave so to a poor girl--could I, father?” he
said.
“Certainly not, Diamond,” said his father, quite pleased, for Diamond's
father was a gentleman.
A moment after, up came the girl, running, with her broom over her
shoulder, and calling, “Cab, there! cab!”
Diamond's father turned instantly, for he was the foremost in the rank,
and followed the girl. One or two other passing cabs heard the cry, and
made for the place, but the girl had taken care not to call till she was
near enough to give her friends the first chance. When they reached
the curbstone--who should it be waiting for the cab but Mrs. and Miss
Coleman! They did not look at the cabman, however. The girl opened the
door for them; they gave her the address, and a penny; she told the
cabman, and away they drove.
When they reached the house, Diamond's father got down and rang the
bell. As he opened the door of the cab, he touched his hat as he had
been wont to do. The ladies both stared for a moment, and then exclaimed
together:
“Why, Joseph! can it be you?”
“Yes, ma'am; yes, miss,” answered he, again touching his hat, with all
the respect he could possibly put into the action. “It's a lucky day
which I see you once more upon it.”
“Who would have thought it?” said Mrs. Coleman. “It's changed times for
both of us, Joseph, and it's not very often we can have a cab even; but
you see my daughter is still very poorly, and she can't bear the motion
of the omnibuses. Indeed we meant to walk a bit first before we took a
cab, but just at the corner, for as hot as the sun was, a cold wind came
down the street, and I saw that Miss Coleman must not face it. But to
think we should have fallen upon you, of all the cabmen in London! I
didn't know you had got a cab.”
“Well, you see, ma'am, I had a chance of buying the old horse, and I
couldn't resist him. There he is, looking at you, ma'am. Nobody knows
the sense in that head of his.”
The two ladies went near to pat the horse, and then they noticed Diamond
on the box.
“Why, you've got both Diamonds with you,” said Miss Coleman. “How do you
do, Diamond?”
Diamond lifted his cap, and answered politely.
“He'll be fit to drive himself before long,” said his father, proudly.
“The old horse is a-teaching of him.”
“Well, he must come and see us, now you've found us out. Where do you
live?”
Diamond's father gave the ladies a ticket with his name and address
printed on it; and then Mrs. Coleman took out her purse, saying:
“And what's your fare, Joseph?”
“No, thank you, ma'am,” said Joseph. “It was your own old horse as took
you; and me you paid long ago.”
He jumped on his box before she could say another word, and with a
parting salute drove off, leaving them on the pavement, with the maid
holding the door for them.
It was a long time now since Diamond had seen North Wind, or even
thought much about her. And as his father drove along, he was thinking
not about her, but about the crossing-sweeper, and was wondering what
made him feel as if he knew her quite well, when he could not remember
anything of her. But a picture arose in his mind of a little girl
running before the wind and dragging her broom after her; and from that,
by degrees, he recalled the whole adventure of the night when he got
down from North Wind's back in a London street. But he could not quite
satisfy himself whether the whole affair was not a dream which he had
dreamed when he was a very little boy. Only he had been to the back of
the north wind since--there could be no doubt of that; for when he woke
every morning, he always knew that he had been there again. And as he
thought and thought, he recalled another thing that had happened that
morning, which, although it seemed a mere accident, might have something
to do with what had happened since. His father had intended going on the
stand at King's Cross that morning, and had turned into Gray's Inn Lane
to drive there, when they found the way blocked up, and upon inquiry
were informed that a stack of chimneys had been blown down in the night,
and had fallen across the road. They were just clearing the rubbish
away. Diamond's father turned, and made for Charing Cross.
That night the father and mother had a great deal to talk about.
“Poor things!” said the mother. “it's worse for them than it is for us.
You see they've been used to such grand things, and for them to come
down to a little poky house like that--it breaks my heart to think of
it.”
“I don't know,” said Diamond thoughtfully, “whether Mrs. Coleman had
bells on her toes.”
“What do you mean, child?” said his mother.
“She had rings on her fingers, anyhow,” returned Diamond.
“Of course she had, as any lady would. What has that to do with it?”
“When we were down at Sandwich,” said Diamond, “you said you would have
to part with your mother's ring, now we were poor.”
“Bless the child; he forgets nothing,” said his mother. “Really,
Diamond, a body would need to mind what they say to you.”
“Why?” said Diamond. “I only think about it.”
“That's just why,” said the mother.
“Why is that why?” persisted Diamond, for he had not yet learned that
grown-up people are not often so much grown up that they never talk like
children--and spoilt ones too.
“Mrs. Coleman is none so poor as all that yet. No, thank Heaven! she's
not come to that.”
“Is it a great disgrace to be poor?” asked Diamond, because of the tone
in which his mother had spoken.
But his mother, whether conscience-stricken I do not know hurried him
away to bed, where after various attempts to understand her, resumed and
resumed again in spite of invading sleep, he was conquered at last, and
gave in, murmuring over and over to himself, “Why is why?” but getting
no answer to the question.