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Updated: June 7, 2025
Miss Phillips opened two or three, selected one, and read slowly, apparently encountering difficulty in the spelling: "Dear Santa Klaus: "Pleas send me a dol that opens hur ise with love Mary Connelly." After that she read half a dozen or so, each one as laboriously composed as the first, asking St. Nicholas to bring them the things nearest their hearts.
Morgridge having listened to what Peter had to say, took more snuff and seemed disposed to let that end the matter, but Peter persisted in getting his opinion. "Mr. Morgridge," said he, "do you think Santa Klaus will come and fill my stocking?" Being pressed for an answer, Mr. Morgridge made shift to say
As he was looking at it in wonderment, there was another undoubted chuckle from Morgridge Klaus. Peter was astonished beyond measure. Could Mr. Morgridge be Santa Klaus? impossible! yet he began to believe it, for was it any harder of belief than that it was Mr. Morgridge who then spoke in a voice that had in it the cheeriness of Solomon Mit: "Come down, little Peter! To-day is Christmas Day.
"Do you think I am as old as your great-aunt, without knowing much more than you do! Bring me the knife. I'm going to swarm up the chimney and scratch away the mortar. Leave it entirely to me, and Santa Klaus will be down here in an hour or two!" Marianne ran off to her little play box, and returned with the knife.
And he suggests that the Eskimo, the Ainos, and I know not what other dwarfish races, are relics of the same people; while Santa Klaus, the patron saint of children, is only a tradition of the wealthy and beneficent character borne by this ill-used folk. Primarily his arguments are concerned with Scotland and Ireland.
"Yes, isn't it charming!" cried Peer, putting on an air of ingenuous delight. "This is just the size a foundry should be, if its owner is to have a good time and possess his soul in peace." Ferdinand Holm and Brock exchanged glances. But next moment Peer led them through into a side-room, with tools and machinery evidently having no connection with the rest. "Now look out," said Klaus.
"Mind, mind!" cries Klaus he was always nervous in a boat. But Peer was hauling in again. They were nearly half-way across the fjord by now, and the line came up from mysterious depths, which no fisherman had ever sounded. The strain on Peer began to show in his looks; the others sat watching his face. "Is the line heavy?" asked Klaus.
Now you shall hear what befell them both, for this is a true story. The whole week through Little Klaus had to plough for Big Klaus, and lend him his one horse; then Big Klaus lent him his four horses, but only once a week, and that was on Sunday. Hurrah! how loudly Little Klaus cracked his whip over all the five horses! for they were indeed as good as his on this one day.
A couple of hours later, when all was silent throughout the house, Peer was still up, wandering to and fro in soft felt slippers in the great hall. Now and again he would stop, and look out of the window. Why could he not sleep? The moon was paling, the day beginning to dawn. The next morning Merle was alone in the pantry when she heard steps behind her, and turned her head. It was Klaus Brock.
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.
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