e was going to kill
me! It was a good thing for my grandmother that she was dead already,
or else he would have killed her!'

Then he dressed his grandmother in her Sunday clothes, borrowed a
horse from his neighbour, harnessed the cart to it, sat his
grandmother on the back seat so that she could not fall out when he
drove, and away they went. When the sun rose they were in front of a
large inn. Little Klaus got down, and went in to get something to
drink. The host was very rich. He was a very worthy but hot-tempered
man.

'Good morning!' said he to Little Klaus. 'You are early on the road.'

'Yes,' said Little Klaus. 'I am going to the town with my grandmother.
She is sitting outside in the cart; I cannot bring her in. Will you
not give her a glass of mead? But you will have to speak loud, for she
is very hard of hearing.'

'Oh yes, certainly I will!' said the host; and, pouring out a large
glass of mead, he took it out to the dead grandmother, who was sitting
upright in the cart.

'Here is a glass of mead from your son,' said the host. But the dead
woman did not answer a word, and sat still. 'Don't you hear?' cried
the host as loud as he could. 'Here is a glass of mead from your son!'

Then he shouted the same thing again, and yet again, but she never
moved in her place; and at last he grew angry, threw the glass in her
face, so that she fell back into the cart, for she was not tied in her
place.

'Hullo!' cried Little Klaus, running out of the door, and seizing the
host by the throat. 'You have killed my grandmother! Look! there is a
great hole in her forehead!'

'Oh, what a misfortune!' cried the host, wringing his hands. 'It all
comes from my hot temper! Dear Little Klaus! I will give you a bushel
of money, and will bury your grandmother as if she were my own; only
don't tell about it, or I shall have my head cut off, and that would
be very uncomfortable.'

So Little Klaus got a bushel of money, and the host buried his
grandmother as if she had been his own.

Now when Little Klaus again reached home with so much money he sent
his boy to Big Klaus to borrow his bushel measure.

'What's this?' said Big Klaus. 'Didn't I kill him? I must see to this
myself!'

So he went himself to Little Klaus with the measure.

'Well, now, where did you get all this money?' asked he, opening his
eyes at the heap.

'You killed my grandmother--not me,' said Little Klaus. 'I sold her,
and got a bushel of money for he