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 was what he began to say, but as he spoke his eyes came wide open, and behold, there were neither Apostles nor vergers there--not even a window with the effigies of holy men in it, but a dark heap of hay all about him, and the little panes in the roof of his loft glimmering blue in the light of the morning.

Old Diamond was coming awake down below in the stable.

In a moment more he was on his feet, and shaking himself so that young Diamond's bed trembled under him.
"He's grand at shaking himself," said Diamond.