The Summer-House 69
stood on the top of the wall. She was just about the height a dragon-fly would be, if it stood on end.
"You darling!" said Diamond, seeing what a lovely little toy-woman she was.
" Don't be impertinent, Master Diamond," said North Wind. "If there's one thing makes me more angry than another, it is the way you humans judge things by their size. I am quite as respectable now as I shall be six hours after this, when I take an East Indiaman by the royals, twist her round, and push her under. You have no right to address me in such a fashion."
But as she spoke, the tiny face wore the smile of a great grand woman. She was only having her own beautiful fun out of Diamond, and true woman's fun never hurts.
"But look there!" she resumed. "Do you see a boat with one man in it—a green and white boat?"
" Yes; quite well."
"That's a poet."
" I thought you said it was a bo-at."
" Stupid pet! Don't you know what a poet is?"
" Why, a thing to sail on the water in."
"Well, perhaps you're not so far wrong. Some poets do carry people over the sea. But I have no business to talk so much. The man is a poet."
"The boat is a boat," said Diamond.
" Can't you spell?" asked North Wind.
" Not very well."
"So I see. A poet is not a bo-at, as you call it. A poet is a man who is glad of something, and tries to make other people glad of it too."