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Updated: May 1, 2025
But in the autumn, when the long nights set in, he would go for a walk through the streets before going to bed, as often as not up to the white wooden house where the manager lived. This was Klaus's home. Lights in the windows, and often music; the happy people that lived here knew and could do all sorts of things that could never be learned from books.
"Then we'll have to take him back," he said. "We can't afford a strike now." A couple of days later Peer was lying in bed, when the post-bag was brought in. He shook the letters out over the coverlet, and caught sight of one from Klaus Brook. What was this? Why did his hand tremble as he took it up? Of course it was only one of Klaus's ordinary friendly letters.
The two boys stood a moment taking stock of one another: Klaus grimy-faced and in working-clothes Peer weather-beaten and tanned by storm and spray. The manager of the factory was Klaus's uncle, and the same afternoon his nephew came into the office with a new hand wanting to be taken on as apprentice.
He knew quite well where Little Klaus's bed stood, and going up to it he struck the grandmother on the head just where he thought Little Klaus would be. 'There! said he. 'Now you won't get the best of me again! And he went home. 'What a very wicked man! thought Little Klaus. 'He was going to kill me!
The next instant Klaus had started up sitting, caught wildly at the gunwale, and shrieked out: "Cut the line, and row for your lives!" A roar of laughter went up from the rest; they dropped their oars and sat doubled up and gasping. But on the beach, before going home, they agreed to say nothing about Klaus's fainting fit.
"A paint box is what I've been longing for! Don't chip it if you can possibly help it!" "Of course I shan't," replied the Chintz Imp. "If he wouldn't kick so much, I should get him out in half the time." "I'm not kicking," cried Santa Klaus's voice indignantly. "I've been as still as a rock, even with that horrid penknife close to my ear the whole time."
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