Hardly had he done so than there came a loud knocking on the floor of the attic above his head.
“What is that?” he cried, jumping up. “Is there somebody in the attic?”
“Not that I know of,” answered his wife. “Nobody has been here all day except a soldier with a most villainous face, who came begging. I sent him away with a flea in his ear, I assure you.”
“Did you so?” said her husband. “Well, I believe he has managed to get into the attic. I remember now that I forgot to fasten the window.” Off he went upstairs to see, and sure enough, there was the drummer, who was not slow in explaining his presence.
“Well, come along downstairs and warm yourself,” said the peasant. “My wife is just about to get my supper, and I expect there will be enough for two.”
Nothing loath, the drummer accompanied his host to the kitchen, and sat down at the table, paying no heed to the venomous glances which the woman of the house cast at him as she slammed down a loaf of black bread and a bowl of milk.
“Ho, ho,” said the drummer to himself. “There is fowl for the beadle and dry bread for the good man and his guest. Well, we shall see!” And he gave a kick with his foot to the drum which was under the table.
“I did not hear you knock”