The next day arrived, and, as of old, Ram came, with Jemmy Dadd left at the door.
“He’s grumbling,” said the boy, “about having to help watch over you.”
“Then why not put an end to it?” cried Archy, eagerly dashing into the question next his heart, for his confinement now grew unbearable.
“How?”
“Help me to escape.”
The boy laughed.
“Aren’t you going to ask me how I am?”
“No; why should I?”
“’Cause you made me have that fall, and my head’s been trebble. I’ve been in bed three days.”
“I am sorry for you,” said Archy; “but I can only think of one thing—how to get away.”