"I don't think he could have crept here after falling from such a
height. He must have been killed."

"What are we to do with him? We can't leave him lying there. And we
could not make him comfortable up here in the window: it's rather
crowded already. What do you say, St. Thomas?"

"Let's go down and look at him."

There came a rustling, and a chinking, for some time, and then there was
a silence, and Diamond felt somehow that all the Apostles were standing
round him and looking down on him. And still he could not open his eyes.

"What is the matter with him, St. Luke?" asked one.

"There's nothing the matter with him," answered St. Luke, who must
have joined the company of the Apostles from the next window, one would
think. "He's in a sound sleep."

"I have it," cried another. "This is one of North Wind's tricks. She
has caught him up and dropped him at our door, like a withered leaf or a
foundling baby. I don't understand that woman's conduct, I must say. As
if we hadn't enough to do with our money, without going taking care
of other people's children! That's not what our forefathers built
cathedrals for."

Now Diamond could not bear to hear such things against North Wind, who,
he knew, never played anybody a trick. She was far too busy with her own
work for that. He struggled hard to open his eyes, but without success.

"She should consider that a church is not a place for pranks, not to
mention that we live in it," said another.

"It certainly is disrespectful of her. But she always is disrespectful.
What right has she to bang at our windows as she has been doing the
whole of this night? I daresay there is glass broken somewhere. I know
my blue robe is in a dreadful mess with the rain first and the dust
after. It will cost me shillings to clean it."

Then Diamond knew that they could not be Apostles, talking like this.
They could only be the sextons and vergers and such-like, who got up at
night, and put on the robes of deans and bishops, and called each other
grand names, as the foolish servants he had heard his father tell of
call themselves lords and ladies, after their masters and mistresses.
And he was so angry at their daring to abuse North Wind, that he jumped
up, crying--"North Wind knows best what she is about. She has a good
right to blow the cobwebs from your windows, for she was sent to do it.
She sweeps them away from grander places, I can tell you, for I've been
with her at it."

This