Whenever there was anything to be done, the eldest one always had to do it. But if his Father sent him to fetch anything late in the evening, or at night, and the way lay through the churchyard, or any other dreary place, he would answer: ‘Oh no, Father, not there; it makes me shudder!’ For he was afraid.
In the evening, when stories were being told round the fire which made one’s flesh creep, and the listeners said: ‘Oh, you make me shudder!’ the youngest son, sitting in the corner listening, could not imagine what they meant. ‘They always say “It makes me shudder! It makes me shudder!” And it doesn’t make me shudder a bit. It must be some art which I can’t understand.’
Now it happened one day that his Father said to him: ‘I say, you in the corner there, you are growing big and strong. You must learn something by which you can make a living. See what pains your brother takes, but you are not worth your salt.’
‘Well, Father,’ he answered, ‘I am quite ready to learn something; nay, I should very much like to learn how to shudder, for I know nothing about that.’
The elder son laughed when he heard him, and thought: ‘Good heavens! what a fool my brother is; he will never do any good as long as he lives.’
But his Father sighed, and answered: ‘You will easily enough learn how to shudder, but you won’t make your bread by it.’
Soon after, the Sexton came to the house on a visit, and the Father confided his troubles about his son to him. He told him how stupid he was, and how he never could learn anything. ‘Would you believe that when I asked him how he was going to make his living, he said he would like to learn how to shudder?’
‘If that’s all,’ said the Sexton, ‘he may learn that from me. Just let me have him, and I’ll soon put the polish on him.’
The Father was pleased, for he thought: ‘Anyhow, the Lad will gain something by it.’
So the Sexton took him home with him, and he had to ring the church bells.