"What do you mean, little boy--closing up my window?"

"What window?" asked Diamond.

"You stuffed hay into it three times last night. I had to blow it
out again three times."

"You can't mean this little hole! It isn't a window; it's a hole
in my bed."

"I did not say it was a window: I said it was my window."

"But it can't be a window, because windows are holes to see out of."

"Well, that's just what I made this window for."

"But you are outside: you can't want a window."

"You are quite mistaken. Windows are to see out of, you say.
Well, I'm in my house, and I want windows to see out of it."

"But you've made a window into my bed."

"Well, your mother has got three windows into my dancing room,
and you have three into my garret."

"But I heard father say, when my mother wanted him to make a window
through the wall, that it was against the law, for it would look
into Mr. Dyves's garden."