or I do not know the
particulars--had sold house, carriage, horses, furniture, and
everything. He and his wife and daughter and Mrs. Crump had gone to live
in a small house in Hoxton, where he would be unknown, and whence he
could walk to his place of business in the City. For he was not an old
man, and hoped yet to retrieve his fortunes. Let us hope that he lived
to retrieve his honesty, the tail of which had slipped through his
fingers to the very last joint, if not beyond it.

Of course, Diamond's father had nothing to do for a time, but it was
not so hard for him to have nothing to do as it was for Miss Coleman. He
wrote to his wife that, if her sister would keep her there till he got
a place, it would be better for them, and he would be greatly obliged
to her. Meantime, the gentleman who had bought the house had allowed his
furniture to remain where it was for a little while.

Diamond's aunt was quite willing to keep them as long as she could. And
indeed Diamond was not yet well enough to be moved with safety.

When he had recovered so far as to be able to go out, one day his mother
got her sister's husband, who had a little pony-cart, to carry them
down to the sea-shore, and leave them there for a few hours. He had
some business to do further on at Ramsgate, and would pick them up as he
returned. A whiff of the sea-air would do them both good, she said, and
she thought besides she could best tell Diamond what had happened if she
had him quite to herself.

CHAPTER XIII. THE SEASIDE

DIAMOND and his mother sat down upon the edge of the rough grass that
bordered the sand. The sun was just far enough past its highest not to
shine in their eyes when they looked eastward. A sweet little wind blew
on their left side, and comforted the mother without letting her know
what it was that comforted her. Away before them stretched the sparkling
waters of the ocean, every wave of which flashed out its own delight
back in the face of the great sun, which looked down from the stillness
of its blue house with glorious silent face upon its flashing children.
On each hand the shore rounded outwards, forming a little bay. There
were no white cliffs here, as further north and south, and the place was
rather dreary, but the sky got at them so much the better. Not a house,
not a creature was within sight. Dry sand was about their feet, and
under them thin wiry grass, that just managed to grow out of the
poverty-stricken shor