Ole-Luk-Oie, the Dream-God 3

And then came a moan from Hjalmar’s copy-book. Oh, it was quite terrible to hear! On each leaf stood a row of capital letters, every one having a small letter by its side. This formed a copy; under these were other letters, which Hjalmar had written: they fancied they looked like the copy, but they were mistaken; for they were leaning on one side as if they intended to fall over the pencil-lines.

 

“See, this is the way you should hold yourselves,” said the copy. “Look here, you should slope thus, with a graceful curve.”

 

“Oh, we are very willing to do so, but we cannot,” said Hjalmar’s letters; “we are so wretchedly made.”

 

“You must be scratched out, then,” said Ole-Luk-Oie.

 

“Oh, no!” they cried, and then they stood up so gracefully it was quite a pleasure to look at them.

 

“Now we must give up our stories, and exercise these letters,” said Ole-Luk-Oie; “One, two—one, two—” So he drilled them till they stood up gracefully, and looked as beautiful as a copy could look. But after Ole-Luk-Oie was gone, and Hjalmar looked at them in the morning, they were as wretched and as awkward as ever.

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