"No, father," answered the boy, and rode on in majestic safety.

The summer drew near, warm and splendid. Miss Coleman was a little
better in health, and sat a good deal in the garden. One day
she saw Diamond peeping through the shrubbery, and called him.
He talked to her so frankly that she often sent for him after that,
and by degrees it came about that he had leave to run in the garden
as he pleased. He never touched any of the flowers or blossoms,
for he was not like some boys who cannot enjoy a thing without
pulling it to pieces, and so preventing every one from enjoying it
after them.

A week even makes such a long time in a child's life, that Diamond
had begun once more to feel as if North Wind were a dream of some
far-off year.

One hot evening, he had been sitting with the young mistress,
as they called her, in a little summer-house at the bottom
of the lawn--a wonderful thing for beauty, the boy thought,
for a little window in the side of it was made of coloured glass.
It grew dusky, and the lady began to feel chill, and went in,
leaving the boy in the summer-house. He sat there gazing out at
a bed of tulips, which, although they had closed for the night,
could not go quite asleep for the wind that kept waving them about.
All at once he saw a great bumble-bee fly out of one of the tulips.

"There! that is something done," said a voice--a gentle, merry,
childish voice, but so tiny. "At last it was. I thought
he would have had to stay there all night, poor fellow! I did."