but I always know whether I like a story or not."

"And can you always tell why you like it or not?"

"No. Very often I can't at all. Sometimes I can. I always know,
but I can't always tell why. Mr. Raymond writes the stories,
and then tries them on me. Mother does the same when she makes jam.
She's made such a lot of jam since we came here! And she always makes
me taste it to see if it'll do. Mother knows by the face I make
whether it will or not."

At this moment I caught sight of two more children approaching.
One was a handsome girl, the other a pale-faced, awkward-looking boy,
who limped much on one leg. I withdrew a little, to see what
would follow, for they seemed in some consternation. After a few
hurried words, they went off together, and I pursued my way to
the house, where I was as kindly received by Mr. and Mrs. Raymond
as I could have desired. From them I learned something of Diamond,
and was in consequence the more glad to find him, when I returned,
seated in the same place as before.

"What did the boy and girl want with you, Diamond?" I asked.

"They had seen a creature that frightened them."

"And they came to tell you about it?"

"They couldn't get water out of the well for it. So they wanted
me to go with them."