Страна Северного Ветра

Chapter I. The Hay-loft

           Hescrambledandtumbledinunderthebedclothes,andcoveredhimselfup:therewasnopapernowbetweenhimandthevoice,andhefeltalittle—notfrightenedexactly—Itoldyouhehadnotlearnedthatyet—butratherqueer;forwhatastrangepersonthisNorthWindmustbethatlivedinthegreathouse—“calledOut-of-Doors,Isuppose,”thoughtDiamond—andmadewindowsintopeople’sbeds!Butthevoicebeganagain;andhecouldhearitquiteplainly,evenwithhisheadunderthebed-clothes.Itwasastillmoregentlevoicenow,althoughsixtimesaslargeandloudasithadbeen,andhethoughtitsoundedalittlelikehismother’s.

           “Whatisyourname,littleboy?”itasked.

           “Diamond,”answeredDiamond,underthebed-clothes.

           “Whatafunnyname!”

           “It’saverynicename,”returneditsowner.

           “Idon’tknowthat,”saidthevoice.

           “Well,Ido,”retortedDiamond,alittlerudely.

           “Doyouknowtowhomyouarespeaking!”

           “No,”saidDiamond.

           Andindeedhedidnot.Fortoknowaperson’snameisnotalwaystoknowtheperson’sself.

           “ThenImustnotbeangrywithyou.—Youhadbetterlookandsee,though.”

           “Diamondisaveryprettyname,”persistedtheboy,vexedthatitshouldnotgivesatisfaction.

           “Diamondisauselessthingrather,”saidthevoice.

           “That’snottrue.Diamondisverynice—asbigastwo—andsoquietallnight!Anddoesn’themakeajollyrowinthemorning,gettinguponhisfourgreatlegs!It’slikethunder.”

           “Youdon’tseemtoknowwhatadiamondis.

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