as soon as they are asleep. He is
nicely dressed; his coat is made of silken stuff, it is impossible to
say of what color, for it changes from green to red and from red to blue
as he turns from side to side. Under each arm he carries an umbrella.
One of them, with pictures on the inside, he spreads over good children,
and then they dream the most charming stories. 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 a little boy named Hjalmar, and what it was that he told him. There
were seven stories, as there are seven days in the week.

MONDAY

"Now pay attention," said Ole-Luk-Oie in the evening, when Hjalmar was
in bed, "and I will decorate the room."

Immediately all the flowers in the flowerpots became large trees with
long branches reaching to the ceiling and stretching along the walls, so
that the whole room was like a greenhouse. All the branches were loaded
with flowers, each flower as beautiful and as fragrant as a rose, and
had any one tasted them he would have found them sweeter even than jam.
The fruit glittered like gold, and there were cakes so full of plums
that they were nearly bursting. It was incomparably beautiful.

At the same time sounded dismal moans from the table drawer in which lay
Hjalmar's schoolbooks.

"What can that be now?" said Ole-Luk-Oie, going to the table and pulling
out the drawer.

It was a slate, in such distress because of a wrong figure in a sum that
it had almost broken itself to pieces. The pencil pulled and tugged at
its string as if it were a little dog that wanted to help but could not.

And then came a moan from Hjalmar's copy book. Oh, it was quite terrible
to hear! On each leaf stood a row of capital letters, every one having
a small letter by its side. This formed a copy. Under these were other
letters, which Hjalmar had written; they fancied they looked like the
copy, but they were mistaken, for they were leaning on one side as if
they intended to fall over the pencil lines.

"See, this is the way you should hold yourselves," said the copy. "Look
here, you should slope thus, with a graceful curve."

"Oh, we are very willing to do so," said Hjalmar's letters, "but we
cannot, we are so wretchedly made."

"You must be scratched out, then," said Ole-Luk-Oie.

"Oh, no!"