as bawling, "Will ye buy a new book?" and the
fruit-sellers, too, were raising such a cry of "Apples, cherries, cakes,
and ale!" that the little noise Nick might make would be lost in the
wild confusion.

Master Carew and the manager had not come out of the tiring-room. Nick
got up on the stool and looked out. It was not very far to the
ground--not so far as from the top of the big haycock in Master John
Combe's field from which he had often jumped.

The sill was just breast-high when he stood upon the stool. Putting his
hands upon it, he gave a little spring, and balanced on his arms a
moment. Then he put one leg over the window-sill and looked back. No one
was paying the slightest attention to him. Over all the noise he could
hear the man tuning the viol. Swinging himself out slowly and silently,
with his toes against the wall to steady him, he hung down as far as he
could, gave a little push away from the house with his feet, caught a
quick breath, and dropped.

CHAPTER XX

DISAPPOINTMENT

Nick landed upon a pile of soft earth. It broke away under his feet and
threw him forward upon his hands and knees. He got up, a little shaken
but unhurt, and stood close to the wall, looking all about quickly. A
party of gaily dressed gallants were haggling with the horse-boys at the
sheds; but they did not even look at him. A passing carter stared up at
the window, measuring the distance with his eye, whistled incredulously,
and trudged on.

Nick listened a moment, but heard only the clamor of voices inside, and
the zoon, zoon, zoon of the viol. He was trembling all over, and his
heart was beating like a trip-hammer. He wanted to run, but was fearful
of exciting suspicion. Heading straight for the river, he walked as fast
as he could through the gardens and the trees, brushing the dirt from
his hose as he went.

There was a wherry just pushing out from Old Marigold stairs with a
single passenger, a gardener with a basket of truck.

"Holloa!" cried Nick, hurrying down; "will ye take me across?"

"For thrippence," said the boatman, hauling the wherry alongside again
with his hook.

Thrippence? Nick stopped, dismayed. Master Carew had his gold
rose-noble, and he had not thought of the fare. They would soon find
that he was gone.

"Oh, I must be across, sir!" he cried. "Can ye na take me free? I be
little and not heavy; and I will help the gentleman with his basket."

The boatman's only reply was to drop his h