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"Good evening," said Ole-Luk-Oie. Hjalmar nodded, and then sprang out of bed, and turned his great-grandfather's portrait to the wall, so that it might not interrupt them as it had done yesterday.
Look, how he gallops along." Hjalmar saw that as this Ole-Luk-Oie rode on, he lifted up old and young, and carried them away on his horse. Some he seated in front of him, and some behind, but always inquired first, "How stands the mark-book?" "Good," they all answered. "Yes, but let me see for myself," he replied; and they were obliged to give him the books.
'Twas in my arms thy lisping tongue First spoke the half-remembered word, While o'er thy tottering steps I hung, My fond protection to afford. Farewell! I pray the Heavenly Power To keep thee till thy dying hour." And all the birds sang the same tune, the flowers danced on their stems, and the old trees nodded as if Ole-Luk-Oie had been telling them stories as well. How the rain did pour down!
But the other umbrella has no pictures, and this he holds over the naughty children so that they sleep heavily, and wake in the morning without having dreamed at all. Now we shall hear how Ole-Luk-Oie came every night during a whole week to the little boy named Hjalmar, and what he told him. There were seven stories, as there are seven days in the week.
"Oh, we are very willing to do so, but we cannot," said Hjalmar's letters; "we are so wretchedly made." "You must be scratched out, then," said Ole-Luk-Oie. "Oh, no!" they cried, and then they stood up so gracefully it was quite a pleasure to look at them.
I am an ancient heathen. The old Romans and Greeks named me the Dream-god. I have visited the noblest houses, and continue to do so; still I know how to conduct myself both to high and low, and now you may tell the stories yourself:" and so Ole-Luk-Oie walked off, taking his umbrellas with him. "Well, well, one is never to give an opinion, I suppose," grumbled the portrait. And it woke Hjalmar.
Then Ole-Luk-Oie lifted little Hjalmar up to the frame, and placed his feet in the picture, just on the high grass, and there he stood with the sun shining down upon him through the branches of the trees. He ran to the water, and seated himself in a little boat which lay there, and which was painted red and white.
Then he spread his wings, and flew away to warmer countries, while the hens clucked, the ducks quacked, and the turkey-cock turned quite scarlet in the head. "To-morrow you shall be made into soup," said Hjalmar to the fowls; and then he awoke, and found himself lying in his little bed. It was a wonderful journey which Ole-Luk-Oie had made him take this night.
"We must make all the world beautiful for to-morrow morning," said Ole-Luk-Oie, "for it will be a holiday, it is Sunday. I must now go to the church steeple and see if the little sprites who live there have polished the bells, so that they may sound sweetly.
Ole-Luk-Oie touched the picture with his magic wand, and immediately the birds commenced singing, the branches of the trees rustled, and the clouds moved across the sky, casting their shadows on the landscape beneath them.
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