"The sweet child，"she said，"is surely going to get on in the world.He was born with a gold apple in his hand; I can see it even with my poor sight.Why， there is the shining apple!" And she kissed the child's little hand.His parents could see nothing，and neither could Peer;but as he grew to have more understanding， he liked to believe it.
"That is such a story， such a fairy tale， that Grand- mother tells!"said the parents.
Yes， Grandmother could tell stories， and Peer wasnever tired of hearing always the same ones.She taught him a psalm and the Lord's Prayer as well， and he could say it， not as gabble but as words that meant something;
she explained every single sentence in it to him. He gave particular thought to what Grandmother said about the words，"Give us this day our daily bread"; he was to un-derstand that it was necessary for one to get wheat bread，for another to get black bread; one must have a great housewhen he had many people in his employ; another， in small circumstances， could live quite as happily in a little roomin the garret."So each person has what he calls 'daily bread.'"
Peer， of course， had his good daily bread—and the most delightful days， too， but they were not to last forever.The sad years of war began; the young men were to goaway， and the older men as well. Peer's father was amongthose who were called in; and soon afterward it was heard that he had been one of the first to fall in battle against thesuperior enemy.
There was bitter grief in the little room in the garret.The mother cried; the grandmother and little Peer cried;
and every time one of the neighbors came up to see them， they talked about"Papa， and then they cried all together.
The widow， meanwinle， was given permission to stay in hergarret flat，rent-free，during the first year，and afterward she was to pay only a small rent. The grandmother stayed with the mother， who supported herself by washing forseveral"single， elegant gentlemen，"as she called them.Peer had neither sorrow nor want. He had plenty of food and drink， and Grandmother told him stories， such strangeand wonderful ones about the wide world ，that he asked her，one day， if the two of them might not go to foreign lands some Sunday and return home as prince and princess， wearing gold crowns.
"I am too old for that，"said Grandmother，"and youmust first learn a good many things and become big and strong; but you must always be a good and affectionate child—as you are now."
Peer rode around the room on hobbyhorses; he had two such horses. But the mer- chant's son had a real live horse; it was so small that it might well have been called a baby horse， which， in fact， Peer called it， and it never could become any bigger.Fe- lix rode it in the yard; yes， and he even rode it outside the gate，when his father and a riding master from the king's stable were with him.For the first half-hour， Peer had not liked his horses and hadn't ridden them， for they were not real; and then he had asked his mother why he could not have a real horse like little Felix had， and his mother had said，"Felix lives down onthe first floor， close by the stables， but you live high upunder the roof. One cannot have horses up in the garret ex-cept like those you have. You should ride on them."
And so now Peer rode—first to the chest of drawers，the great mountain with its many treasures;both Peter'sSunday clothes and his mother's were there， and there were the shining silver dollars that she laid aside for rent;then he rode to the stove，which he called the black bear;it slept all summer long，but when winter came it had to be useful， to warm the room and cook the meals.