"Yes, to be sure," he replied. "They wouldn't be like other people
if they hadn't their nonsense sometimes. But it must be very
pretty nonsense, and not like that silly hey diddle diddle! the cat
and the fiddle! I wish I could get it out of my head. I wonder
what the angels' nonsense is like. Nonsense is a very good thing,
ain't it, mother?--a little of it now and then; more of it for baby,
and not so much for grown people like cabmen and their mothers?
It's like the pepper and salt that goes in the soup--that's it--
isn't it, mother? There's baby fast asleep! Oh, what a nonsense baby
it is--to sleep so much! Shall I put him down, mother?"

Diamond chattered away. What rose in his happy little heart ran
out of his mouth, and did his father and mother good. When he went
to bed, which he did early, being more tired, as you may suppose,
than usual, he was still thinking what the nonsense could be like
which the angels sang when they were too happy to sing sense.
But before coming to any conclusion he fell fast asleep. And no wonder,
for it must be acknowledged a difficult question.

That night he had a very curious dream which I think my readers would
like to have told them. They would, at least, if they are as fond
of nice dreams as I am, and don't have enough of them of their own.

He dreamed that he was running about in the twilight in the old garden.
He thought he was waiting for North Wind, but she did not come.
So he would run down to the back gate, and see if she were there.
He ran and ran. It was a good long garden out of his dream,
but in his dream it had grown so long and spread out so wide that the
gate he wanted was nowhere. He ran and ran, but instead of coming