Sal's Nanny 211
reader should have his qualms about it too, I venture to remind him once more that Diamond had been to the back of the north wind.
Finding she made no reply, Diamond went on—
"In a week or so, I shall be able to go to the tall gentleman and tell him I can read. And I'll ask him if he can help me to understand the rhyme."
But before the week was out, he had another reasor for going to Mr. Raymond.
For three days, on each of which, at one time or other, Diamond's father was on the same stand near the National Gallery, the girl was not at her crossing, and Diamond got quite anxious about her, fearing she must be ill. On the fourth day, not seeing her yet, he said to his father, who had that moment shut the door of his cab upon a fare—
"Father, I want to go and look after the girl. She can't be well."
"All right," said his father. "Only take care of yourself, Diamond."
So saying he climbed on his box and drove off.
He had great confidence in his boy, you see, and would trust him anywhere. But if he had known the kind of place in which the girl lived, he would perhaps have thought twice before he allowed him to go alone. Diamond, who did know something of it, had not, however, any fear. From talking to the girl he had a good notion of where about it was, and he remembered the address well enough; so by asking his way some twenty times, mostly of policemen, he came at length pretty near the place. The last policeman