It was now clear to me that some one was at my window, though, seeing that my room was some twenty feet above the ground, I was at a loss to imagine how the tapper had mounted there.
My fears now being merged in surprise, I got out of bed, stole to the window, and pulled the blind an inch aside.
"Master Bold! Master Bold!" came the voice again, and, venturing a little more, I put my head between the blind and the window, and saw a dark form against the clear summer sky.
"Master Bold, 'tis me, Joe Punchard," said the voice in a whisper. "Canst let me in, lad, without making a noise?"
Without more ado I lifted the sash gradually, for it was heavy and creaked, and I feared to rouse the household. When it was high enough for Joe's bulky form to pass through he clambered over the sill, and stood in my room.
"How did you get up, Joe?" I asked in a whisper.
"Got a ladder from the rick yard, lad. I bin tapping for nigh half an hour, I reckon. You be one of the seven sleepers, for sure."
"But what do you want, Joe? You can't stay here, you know."
"Nor don't want to. I be come to tell you, lad, I be going away."
"Going away, Joe?"