“I will take you in, and then she will hear you.”
“But that would be rude, wouldn't it? You can go where you please, of course, but I should have no business in her room.”
“You may trust me, Diamond. I shall take as good care of the lady as of you. The window is open. Come.”
By a shaded lamp, a lady was seated in a white wrapper, trying to read, but moaning every minute. North Wind floated behind her chair, set Diamond down, and told him to sing something. He was a little frightened, but he thought a while, and then sang:—
The sun is gone down,
And the moon's in the sky;
But the sun will come up,
And the moon be laid by.
The flower is asleep
But it is not dead;
When the morning shines,
It will lift its head.
When winter comes,
It will die—no, no;
It will only hide
From the frost and the snow.
Sure is the summer,
Sure is the sun;
The night and the winter
Are shadows that run.
The lady never lifted her eyes from her book, or her head from her hand.
As soon as Diamond had finished, North Wind lifted him and carried him away.
“Didn't the lady hear me?” asked Diamond when they were once more floating down the river.
“Oh, yes, she heard you,” answered North Wind.
“Was she frightened then?”