"I don't know that."

"I do. You can't say it's polite to lie there talking--with your
head under the bed-clothes, and never look up to see what kind
of person you are talking to.--I want you to come out with me."

"I want to go to sleep," said Diamond, very nearly crying, for he
did not like to be scolded, even when he deserved it.

"You shall sleep all the better to-morrow night."

"Besides," said Diamond, "you are out in Mr. Dyves's garden,
and I can't get there. I can only get into our own yard."

"Will you take your head out of the bed-clothes?" said the voice,
just a little angrily.

"No!" answered Diamond, half peevish, half frightened.

The instant he said the word, a tremendous blast of wind crashed
in a board of the wall, and swept the clothes off Diamond.
He started up in terror. Leaning over him was the large, beautiful,
pale face of a woman. Her dark eyes looked a little angry,
for they had just begun to flash; but a quivering in her sweet
upper lip made her look as if she were going to cry. What was
the most strange was that away from her head streamed out her black
hair in every direction, so that the darkness in the hay-loft
looked as if it were made of her, hair but as Diamond gazed at her
in speechless amazement, mingled with confidence--for the boy was
entranced with her mighty beauty--her hair began to gather itself