while the old grandmother of Little Claus died. She had been
cross, unkind, and really spiteful to him; but he was very sorry,
and took the dead woman and laid her in his warm bed to see if he
could bring her to life again. There he determined that she should lie
the whole night, while he seated himself in a chair in a corner of the
room as he had often done before. During the night, as he sat there,
the door opened, and in came Great Claus with a hatchet. He knew
well where Little Claus's bed stood; so he went right up to it, and
struck the old grandmother on the head, thinking it must be Little
Claus.

"There," cried he, "now you cannot make a fool of me again;" and
then he went home.

"That is a very wicked man," thought Little Claus; "he meant to
kill me. It is a good thing for my old grandmother that she was
already dead, or he would have taken her life." Then he dressed his
old grandmother in her best clothes, borrowed a horse of his neighbor,
and harnessed it to a cart. Then he placed the old woman on the back
seat, so that she might not fall out as he drove, and rode away
through the wood. By sunrise they reached a large inn, where Little
Claus stopped and went to get something to eat. The landlord was a
rich man, and a good man too; but as passionate as if he had been made
of pepper and snuff.

"Good morning," said he to Little Claus; "you are come betimes
to-day."

"Yes," said Little Claus; "I am going to the town with my old
grandmother; she is sitting at the back of the wagon, but I cannot
bring her into the room. Will you take her a glass of mead? but you
must speak very loud, for she cannot hear well."

"Yes, certainly I will," replied the landlord; and, pouring out
a glass of mead, he carried it out to the dead grandmother, who sat
upright in the cart. "Here is a glass of mead from your grandson,"
said the landlord. The dead woman did not answer a word, but sat quite
still. "Do you not hear?" cried the landlord as loud as he could;
"here is a glass of mead from your grandson."

Again and again he bawled it out, but as she did not stir he
flew into a passion, and threw the glass of mead in her face; it
struck her on the nose, and she fell backwards out of the cart, for
she was only seated there, not tied in.

"Hallo!" cried Little Claus, rushing out of the door, and seizing
hold of the landlord by the throat; "you have killed my grandmother;
see, here is a great hole in her forehead."

"Oh, how