I saw him often after this, and gained so much of his confidence
that he told me all I have told you. I cannot pretend to account
for it. I leave that for each philosophical reader to do after
his own fashion. The easiest way is that of Nanny and Jim,
who said often to each other that Diamond had a tile loose.
But Mr. Raymond was much of my opinion concerning the boy;
while Mrs. Raymond confessed that she often rang her bell just
to have once more the pleasure of seeing the lovely stillness
of the boy's face, with those blue eyes which seemed rather made
for other people to look into than for himself to look out of.

It was plainer to others than to himself that he felt the desertion
of Nanny and Jim. They appeared to regard him as a mere toy,
except when they found he could minister to the scruple of using him--
generally with success. They were, however, well-behaved to a
wonderful degree; while I have little doubt that much of their
good behaviour was owing to the unconscious influence of the boy
they called God's baby.

One very strange thing is that I could never find out where
he got some of his many songs. At times they would be but
bubbles blown out of a nursery rhyme, as was the following,
which I heard him sing one evening to his little Dulcimer.
There were about a score of sheep feeding in a paddock near him,
their white wool dyed a pale rose in the light of the setting sun.
Those in the long shadows from the trees were dead white;
those in the sunlight were half glorified with pale rose.