“Yes, indeed he is clever, if he is only six months old. The other day I took him downstairs with me when I went to buy some milk. Since then he won’t accept his mother’s left breast any more. The rascal noticed that the milkman drew skim milk from the left side of the cart and full-cream milk from the tap on the right side. And another time——”
“Now, mother, give over!” said Carpenter Stolpe; “don’t you see they’re sitting laughing at you? And we ought to see about getting home presently.” He looked a trifle injured.
“What, are you going already?” said Stolpe. “Why, bless my soul, it’s quite late already. But we must have another song first.”
“It’ll be daylight soon,” said Madam Stolpe; she was so tired that she was nodding.
When they had sung the Socialist marching song, the party broke up. Lasse had his pockets filled with sweets for the three orphans.
“What’s become of the Vanishing Man?” said Otto suddenly.
“Perhaps he’s been taken bad down in the yard,” said Stolpe. “Run down and see, Frederick.” They had quite forgotten him.
Frederik returned and announced that Albert Olsen was not in the yard— and the gate was locked.
“Surely he can’t have gone on the roof?” said one. They ran up the back stairs; the door of the loft was open, and the skylight also.
Otto threw off his coat and swung himself up through the opening. On the extreme end of the ridge of the roof sat Albert Olsen, snoring.