big inn, and he drew up his horse and went in to get something to eat.

The landlord was a very rich man and a very good man, but he was
hot-tempered, as if he were made of pepper and snuff. "Good morning!"
said he to Little Claus; "you have your best clothes on very early this
morning."

"Yes," said Little Claus, "I'm going to town with my old grandmother.
She's sitting out there in the cart; I can't get her to come in. Won't
you take her out a glass of beer? You'll have to shout at her, she's
very hard of hearing."

"Yes, that I'll do," said the host, and he poured a glass and went out
with it to the dead grandmother, who had been placed upright in the
cart.

"Here is a glass of beer your son has sent," said the landlord but she
sat quite still and said not a word.

"Don't you hear?" cried he as loud as he could. "Here is a glass of beer
from your son."

But the dead woman replied not a word, and at last he became quite angry
and threw the beer in her face--and at that moment she fell backwards
out of the cart, for she was only set upright and not bound fast.

"Now!" shouted Little Claus, as he rushed out of the inn and seized the
landlord by the neck, "you have killed my grandmother! Just look at the
big hole in her forehead!"

"Oh! what a misfortune!" cried the man, "and all because of my quick
temper. Good Little Claus, I will pay you a bushel of money, and I will
have your poor grandmother buried as if she were my own, if only you
will say nothing about it. Otherwise I shall have my head cut off--and
that is so dreadful."

So Little Claus again received a whole bushel of money, and the landlord
buried the old grandmother as if she had been his own.

When Little Claus got home again with all his money, he immediately sent
his boy to Great Claus to ask to borrow his bushel measure.

"What!" said Great Claus, "is he not dead? I must go and see about this
myself." So he took the measure over to Little Claus himself.

"I say, where did you get all that money?" asked he, his eyes big and
round with amazement at what he saw.

"It was grandmother you killed instead of me," said Little Claus. "I
have sold her and got a bushel of money for her."

"That's being well paid, indeed," said Great Claus, and he hurried home,
took an ax and killed his own old grandmother.

He then put her in a carriage and drove off to the town where the
apothecary lived, and asked him if he would buy a dead person.

"Who is it