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SUNDAY
"Good evening," said Daddy Dustman, and Hjalmar nodded; but first he went over and turned the great-grandfather's portrait to the wall, so that it should not begin talking as it did yesterday.
"Now you must tell me some stories about 'the live green peas that lived in a shell,' and 'Cocky Locky, who made love to Henny Penny,' and about 'the darning-needle who was so conceited that she thought she was a sewing-needle.'"
"One may have too much of a good thing," said Daddy Dustman. "You know I would rather show you something. I will now show you my brother. His name is also Daddy Dustman, but he never comes to any one more than once, and when he comes, he takes you on his horse and tells you stories. He knows only two. The one is so wonderfully beautiful that no one in the world can imagine anything more beautiful,
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