Chapter 6 - Karlsson Plays Ghost - Karlsson on the Roof Fairy tale by Astrid Lindgren

It was not until the following day at the dinner table that they asked Eric how he had managed to get up on the roof.

“Did you climb through the skylight in the attic?” asked Mommy.

“No, I flew up with Karlsson-on-the-Roof” said Eric.

Mommy and Daddy looked at each other.

“No, it can’t go on any longer,” said Mommy. “That Karlsson-on-the-Roof is driving me crazy.”

“Eric, there is no Karlsson-on-the-Roof,” said Daddy.

“Isn’t there?” said Eric. “He was there yesterday.”

Mommy shook her head.

“It’s a good thing this term’s nearly finished so that you can go and stay with your Grannie,” she said. “I hope Karlsson-on-the-Roof won’t be going there with you, at any rate.”

This was a problem that Eric had overlooked. He was going to Grannie’s for the summer vacation, and he would not see Karlsson for two months. It wasn’t that he didn’t like it at Grannie’s (he always had a good time there), but, oh, how he would miss Karlsson! And supposing Karlsson was not living on the roof any more when Eric came home again!

With his elbows on the table and his head resting on his hands, he sat there and tried to imagine what life would be like without Karlsson.

“Take your elbows off the table; you should know better,” said Betty.

“Mind your own business,” said Eric.

“Take your elbows off the table, Eric,” said Mommy. “Will you have some more cauliflower?”

“No, I’d rather be dead.”

“Eric, that’s no way to speak,” said Daddy. “You should say, ‘No, thank you.’ ”

What a way to order a hundred-thousand-million-dollar child about, thought Eric, but he did not say so. Instead he said, “Don’t you know that when I say, ‘I’d rather be dead,’ I mean ‘No, thank you’?”

“But that’s not the way a gentleman would speak,” Daddy said firmly. “And you want to be a gentleman, don’t you, Eric?”

“No, I’d rather be like you, Daddy,” said Eric.

Mommy and Betty and Bobby laughed; Eric could not understand why, but he felt that they were laughing at Daddy, and he did not like it.

“I want to be like you, Daddy, because you’re always nice,” he said, looking affectionately at his father.

“Thank you, son,” said Daddy. “Now, what about it, don’t you want some cauliflower after all?”

“No, I’d rather be dead,” said Eric.

“But it’s good for you,” said Mommy.

“Just what I thought,” said Eric. “Because the nastier the food tastes, the better it is for you. Why do they have to stuff all the vitamins into things you can’t eat? That’s what I want to know.”

“Yes, isn’t it queer?” said Bobby. “I suppose you think they should be put in toffees and chewing gum instead!”

“That’s the sensiblest thing you’ve said for a long time,” said Eric.

After dinner he went to his room. He wished with all his heart that Karlsson would come. Soon he would be going away, and he wanted to see as much of Karlsson as possible before then.

Maybe Karlsson felt this unconsciously because he came flying by as soon as Eric put his nose outside the window.

“Haven’t you got a temperature today?” asked Eric.

“Temperature! Me?” said Karlsson. “I’ve never had a temperature in my life! It was make-believe.”

“Did you imagine that you had a temperature?” said Eric, surprised.

“No, but I made you believe that I had,” said Karlsson with a delighted laugh. “The World’s Best Tricker—guess who that is?”

Karlsson was not still for a moment. All the time he was talking he scampered around the room, fingering everything inquisitively, opening as many cupboards and drawers as he could, and examining their contents with the greatest interest.

“No, I haven’t got any temperature today,” he said. “Today I’m tremendously well and feel like having some fun.”

Eric felt like some fun, too. But first of all he wanted Mommy and Daddy and Bobby and Betty to see Karlsson, so that he wouldn’t have to listen to their nagging about Karlsson’s not existing.

“Wait a minute,” he said quickly. “I won’t be long.”

He rushed into the sitting room. Betty and Bobby had just gone out (which was too bad), but his mother and father were sitting there, and Eric said eagerly, “Mommy and Daddy, please come to my room right away?”

He dared not say anything about Karlsson; it would be better if they saw him unexpectedly.

“Won’t you come and sit with us instead?” said Mommy. But Eric tugged at her arm.

“No, please come! I want to show you something.”

After some persuasion he managed to get them both to come, and joyfully he opened the door to his room. Now at last they’d see …

He could have wept with disappointment: the room was empty—just like the other time when he was going to show them Karlsson.

“What did you want to show us?” asked Daddy.

“Nothing special,” mumbled Eric.

Luckily, the telephone rang just then, so Eric did not have to explain. Daddy went to answer it. And Mommy had a sponge cake in the oven that she had to watch. Eric found himself alone. He sat down by the window; he was quite angry with Karlsson and made up his mind to tell him off if he came flying in.

But no one came flying. Instead the closet door opened, and Karlsson’s cheery face appeared.

Eric was very surprised. “What on earth are you doing in my closet?” he asked.

“Hatching eggs … no! Contemplating my sins … no! Lying on the shelf and resting … yes,” said Karlsson.

Eric forgot to be angry. He could not help but feel happy because Karlsson had turned up again.

“This is a marvelous closet for playing hide-and-seek in,” said Karlsson. “Let’s do that! I’ll lie down on the shelf again, and you guess where I am.”

Before Eric had time to answer, Karlsson had disappeared into the closet, and Eric could hear him struggling to get up to the shelf.

“Coo-ee,” shouted Karlsson.

Eric opened the closet door wide and, without much difficulty, found Karlsson on the shelf.

“You horrid boy!” shouted Karlsson. “You should have looked under the bed and behind the table and in other places first. I’m going home if that’s the way you’re going to play. You’re being beastly!”

The front doorbell rang, and a moment later Mommy called from the hall, “Eric! Bridget and Christopher are here.”

This immediately put Karlsson in a good mood again. “We’ll play some tricks on them,” he whispered to Eric. “Shut the door on me!”

Eric shut the closet door. He had no sooner done this than Bridget and Christopher came in. They lived on the same street and were in the same class at school as Eric. Eric liked Bridget very much; he would often tell Mommy how sweet-natured she was. He liked Christopher, too, and had already forgiven him for the bruise on his forehead. It often happened that he fought with Christopher, but afterward they were as good friends as ever. As a matter of fact, it was not only with Christopher that Eric got into fights: he had had fierce battles with almost all the children on the street. But he was always on good terms with Bridget.

“How is it that you never fight with Bridget?” his mother once asked him.

“ ’Cause she’s so sweet, I never need to,” said Eric.

But even Bridget could be maddening sometimes. Yesterday, when they were walking home from school, Eric had talked about Karlsson-on-the-Roof. Bridget laughed and said that Karlsson was just imagination and make-believe. Christopher agreed with her, so that Eric had been obliged to punch him. That was when Christopher had thrown the stone at Eric’s head.

But now they were here, and Christopher had Joffa with him. Because of Joffa, Eric even forgot Karlsson, who was lying on the shelf in the closet. Dogs are the nicest creatures on earth, thought Eric. Joffa jumped and barked, and Eric clung to his neck, petting him. Christopher stood, calmly watching. He knew, of course, that Joffa was his dog and nobody else’s, so he might as well let Eric pet him as much as he liked.

While Eric was busy petting Joffa, Bridget stood looking around. “Where have you got your old Karlsson-on-the-Roof?” she said, teasing him. “We thought he’d be here!”

It was not until then that Eric remembered that Karlsson was lying on the shelf in the closet. But since he did not know what tricks Karlsson had decided to play this time, he could not tell Bridget and Christopher. So he only said, “Shut up! You said Karlsson-on-the-Roof was make-believe. You told me yesterday that he’s only an invention.”

“And he is, isn’t he?” said Bridget, laughing, and as she laughed the dimples appeared in her cheeks.

“As it happens, he isn’t,” Eric replied.

“Of course he is,” said Christopher.

“Of course he isn’t,” said Eric.

He wondered if it was any use going on with this “sensible discussion,” or if it wouldn’t be better to give Christopher a black eye right then. But before he had time to decide, a loud and clear “Cock-a-doodle-do” was heard from the depths of the closet.

“What was that?” said Bridget, and her mouth, which was small and red like a cherry, opened in astonishment.

“Cock-a-doodle-do,” they heard once more, and it sounded exactly like a real rooster.

“Have you got a rooster in the closet?” asked Christopher, surprised. Joffa growled. But Eric laughed; he could not explain, so he just laughed.

“Cock-a-doodle-do,” came from the closet.

“I’m going to open the door and have a look,” said Bridget.

She opened it and peeped in. Christopher joined her and he looked, too. At first they could see nothing but a lot of clothes hanging there. But then they heard a tittering from above, and when they looked up they saw a fat little man on the shelf. He was lying down comfortably, leaning on one elbow, and dangling a chubby leg, which swung slowly to and fro. He had shining, happy blue eyes.

Both Bridget and Christopher were speechless. Joffa uttered a growl.

But when Bridget found her tongue she said, “Who’s that?”

“Only a little Make-Believe,” said the strange figure on the shelf, waggling his chubby leg more rapidly. “A small Make-Believe taking a rest. In short … an Invention!”

“Is it … is it … ?” stuttered Christopher.

“A small Invention is lying here, just crowing, that’s all,” said the little man.

“Is it Karlsson-on-the-Roof?” whispered Bridget.

“What do you think?” said Karlsson. “Did you think it was old Mrs. Peabody from Number 92 who’s crept in here for a nap?”

Eric was unable to stop laughing, because Bridget and Christopher stood there with their mouths wide open, looking very silly.

“You haven’t got much to say now, have you?” said Eric at last.

Karlsson leaped down from the shelf. He went up to Bridget and pinched her cheek roguishly.

“And what little Childish Invention might this be, then?” he asked.

“We …” began Christopher.

“What’s your name besides Augustus?” asked Karlsson.

“My name’s not Augustus,” said Christopher.

“And a good thing, too.”

“They’re called Bridget and Christopher,” said Eric.

“Yes, it’s unbelievable the things that happen to people,” said Karlsson. “But don’t let it worry you too much … we can’t all be called Karlsson, unfortunately.” He took a good look around and continued in the same breath, “I feel like having some fun. Couldn’t we throw the chairs out of the window or something?”

Eric did not think that this would be a good idea, and he was sure that Mommy and Daddy wouldn’t think so.

“No, when they’re old-fashioned, there’s not much you can do about it,” said Karlsson. “We’ll just have to think of something else; we must have some fun. Otherwise I’m going home,” he said, and he pouted.

“Well, we can think of something else, surely,” said Eric pleadingly. But Karlsson seemed determined to sulk.

“You’d better watch out, or I might fly away and leave you,” he said.

Eric, Bridget, and Christopher all realized what a misfortune that would be, and they begged Karlsson to stay with them.

Karlsson sat for a time, still looking rather put out. “I’m not sure,” he said, “but maybe I’ll stay if she pats me and says ‘Good Karlsson,’ ” he said, pointing at Bridget with his fat little finger. Bridget hastened to pat him.

“Good Karlsson, you will stay, won’t you, so that we can have some fun?” she said.

“Very well, then, I suppose I’d better,” said Karlsson. The children heaved a sigh of relief, but too soon.

Eric’s mother and father sometimes went for a walk in the evenings; Mommy called from the hall, “Good-by for now! Bridget and Christopher can stay until eight o’clock, and then you’re to go straight to bed, Eric. I’ll come and say good night later.”

They heard the hall door slam.

“She didn’t say how long I could stay,” said Karlsson, pouting. “It’s not fair, and I’m going home now.”

“You can stay as long as you like,” said Eric.

Karlsson pouted more than ever. “Why shouldn’t I be turned out at eight o’clock like other people?” said Karlsson. “I’m going …”

“I’ll ask Mommy to turn you out at eight o’clock,” said Eric quickly. “What game shall we play?”

Suddenly Karlsson’s bad temper was gone. “Let’s play ghost and frighten the life out of people,” he said. “You’ve no idea what I can do with only a small sheet. If they’d given me a penny for everyone that I’ve frightened to death, I could have bought a vast amount of toffee. I’m the World’s Best Ghost,” said Karlsson, his eyes shining with fun.

Eric, Bridget, and Christopher wanted very much to play ghost, but Eric said, “We don’t have to be too terribly frightening, do we?”

“Calm, be calm!” said Karlsson. “You don’t have to teach the World’s Best Ghost anything about ghostliness. I shall only frighten them to death a little. They’ll hardly notice it.” Karlsson went over to Eric’s bed and pulled away the top sheet. “This’ll do fine for a smart little ghost-suit,” he said.

In the drawer of Eric’s writing desk he found a piece of charcoal and with it he sketched a ghastly ghost face on the sheet. Then he took Eric’s scissors and, before Eric could stop him, cut two holes for eyes.

“A sheet … it’s a small matter,” said Karlsson. “A ghost has got to see; otherwise it could flutter off and land in Burma or anywhere.”

He threw the sheet over his head like a monk’s robe; his chubby little hands stuck out at the sides. Although the children knew that it was only Karlsson under the sheet, they were still frightened, and Joffa started barking fiercely. It was no better when the ghost switched on his engine and began to fly around the ceiling light, the sheet swirling with the speed. It looked really frightening.

“I’m a little motorized ghost—savage, but beautiful,” said Karlsson.

The children stood still, staring at him in terror. Joffa barked.

“I must say I rather like the chuff-chuff I make when I fly about,” he said. “But as I am a ghost, it might be a good idea to use the silencer. Ha! That’s better!”

He floated around with hardly a sound and seemed even more ghostly than before.

The thing now was to find someone to haunt.

“I can haunt the stairs—someone is bound to come and get the shock of his life,” said Karlsson.

The telephone rang, but Eric did not feel inclined to answer it. He let it go on ringing.

Karlsson practiced a few suitable sighs and groans. A ghost who could not sigh and groan was useless, Karlsson declared—it was the first thing a little ghost learned at ghost school.

It all took time. When at last they were standing in the hall, ready to go out on the landing to begin the haunting, they heard an odd scratching sound at the front door. At first Eric thought it must be Mommy and Daddy coming home early, but then he caught sight of a long piece of wire which was being pushed through the letter box. Eric remembered something he had heard his father reading aloud to his mother from the newspaper only a few days earlier. It said in the paper that there were many thieves about at present and that they broke into homes. The thieves were very cunning: first they telephoned to find out if there was anyone at home. If there was no reply they hurried to the house they had phoned, and then all they had to do was to pick the lock, walk in, and steal everything of value.

Eric was terribly frightened when he realized that thieves were about to break in, and so were Bridget and Christopher. Christopher had shut Joffa up in Eric’s room to prevent him from barking during the haunting. Now he was sorry he had done so.

But Karlsson was not frightened—far from it.

“Calm, be calm!” he whispered. “On occasions such as this you can’t do better than to have a ghost around. Come on! We’ll creep into the sitting room—I suppose that’s where your father keeps his chunks of gold and his diamonds,” he said to Eric.

Karlsson, Eric, Bridget, and Christopher crept into the sitting room as quietly, cautiously, and quickly as they could. They crouched and hid behind the furniture while Karlsson dashed into the beautiful old cupboard where Mommy kept her linen and shut the door behind him as best he could. No sooner was he hidden than the thieves came padding in. Eric, who was lying behind the couch next to the fireplace, peeped out. Two really ugly and dreadful-looking thieves were standing in the middle of the room. And (would you believe it?) they were none other than Cosh and Ruffy!

“Well, now, where do they keep the crown jewels, I wonder,” said Cosh in a low, hoarse voice.

“Here, of course,” said Ruffy, pointing at the antique bureau which had a large number of little drawers. Eric knew that Mommy kept her housekeeping money in one of the drawers, and in another there was the valuable ring and brooch that Grannie had given her. Daddy kept his gold medal there, too—the one he had received as a shooting prize. How terrible to think of the thieves taking it all, thought Eric, and he could hardly refrain from bursting into tears as he lay behind the couch.

“You have a look at it,” said Cosh. “I’m going out into the kitchen to see if they’ve got any silver spoons.”

Cosh disappeared, and Ruffy began to pull out the drawers. He gave a satisfied whistle. He had probably found the housekeeping money, thought Eric, getting sadder and sadder.

Ruffy pulled out the next drawer and whistled again. No doubt he had now found the ring and the brooch.

But there was no more whistling, for out of the cupboard burst a ghost with a threatening little groan. As Ruffy turned around and saw the ghost a rattle came from his throat, and he dropped the housekeeping money, the ring, the brooch, and everything. The ghost fluttered about him, groaning and sighing, and suddenly it flew off into the kitchen. A second later Cosh came rushing in, his face white. “Guffy, a rhost!” he shouted in his fright, instead of, “Ruffy, a ghost.”

No wonder he was frightened—the ghost followed close behind him with dreadful sighs and groans. Ruffy and Cosh made for the door, followed by the ghost flapping around their ears while they rushed into the hall and out through the front door. But they could not escape: it chased them down the stairs, crying after them in a hollow, terrible ghost voice, “Calm, be calm! I’ll soon catch up with you and then the fun will start.”

But the ghost tired of the chase and came back to the sitting room. Eric picked up the housekeeping money, the ring, and the brooch and put them back in the bureau. Bridget and Christopher gathered up all the silver spoons that Cosh had dropped when he raced from the kitchen into the sitting room.

“The World’s Best Ghost, that’s Karlsson-on-the-Roof,” said the ghost, taking off his ghost suit.

The children laughed and were very happy, and Karlsson said, “There’s nothing to equal a ghost when it comes to frightening thieves. If people only knew how effective it is, they’d tie a fierce little ghost to every safe in the whole town.”

Eric jumped for joy because Mommy’s housekeeping money and ring and brooch, and Daddy’s gold medal, and all the silver spoons were safe, and he said, “Fancy people being so silly as to believe in ghosts! There aren’t any such things—Daddy says so.” He nodded wisely. “Silly thieves, they thought it was a ghost coming out of the cupboard, and really it wasn’t anything spooky at all— only Karlsson-on-the-Roof.”