THERE is nobody in the world who knows so many stories as

Ole-Luk-Oie, or who can relate them so nicely. In the evening, while

the children are seated at the table or in their little chairs, he

comes up the stairs very softly, for he walks in his socks, then he

opens the doors without the slightest noise, and throws a small

quantity of very fine dust in their eyes, just enough to prevent

them from keeping them open, and so they do not see him. Then he

creeps behind them, and blows softly upon their necks, till their