"I might get lamed again, if I didn't go slowly and carefully," said Ruby.
"Lame again!" snorted old Diamond. "It's my belief you lamed yourself on purpose so you could stay in the stable and stuff yourself and grow fat! You selfish beast!"
"I might get angry at you," said Ruby, "if I didn't know a little better than you do how things are coming out. What do you think my master would say if he were to come back—and he may come any day now—and find me all worn down to a rack of bones and lamed into the bargain? Do you think anything would make him believe that your master had used me right and as he promised he would? And isn't it better he should live a little hard himself and prove himself to be an honest man who does what he says he'll do? You don't know everything, old Diamond. You would not probably believe me if I told you that enduring bad things is often just a way for bringing good things about. But you'll see!"
Old Diamond just snorted sleepily in reply and gave all his attention to doubling up his knees and getting down upon the floor to go to sleep. The racket he made gave young Diamond a start. With a shiver, he seemed to come awake and see the stable door standing open. He trotted out of it, back up the long stairs, and tumbled into bed. But Ruby's words kept sounding in his head.
"Is it like what's in my book?" he said to himself sleepily,—"that about a blessing in disguise, when things look bad but are working out all right—like things at the back of the north wind?" He got sleepier, however, as he tried to think and was fast asleep before he knew it. The next morning, he sang to the baby more cheerily than ever and here is part of the song he sung:
Where did you come from, Baby dear?
Out of everywhere into here.
Where did you get your eyes so blue?
Out of the sky as I came through.
Where did you get this pearly ear?
God spoke and it came out to hear.
But how did you come to us, you dear?
God thought of you and so I am here.
"You never made that song, Diamond," said his mother.
"No, mother. But it's mine just the same, for I love it."
"Does loving a thing make it yours?"