ABSTRACT
There’s nobody in the whole world who knows so many stories as Ole Luk-Oie. He can tell capital histories.
Towards evening, when the children still sit nicely at table, or upon their stools, Ole Luk-Oie comes. He comes up the stairs quite softly for he walks in his socks; he opens the doors noiselessly, and whisk! he squirts sweet milk into the children’s eyes, a small, small stream, but enough to prevent them from keeping their eyes open-and thus they cannot see him. He creeps just among them, and blows softly upon
their necks; and this makes their heads heavy. Yes, but it doesn’t hurt them, for Old Luk-Oie is very fond of the children; he only wants them to be quiet, and that they are not, until they are taken to bed; they are to be quiet that he may tell them stories.
