“What is Mamselle Brorström’s pleasure—to dance forward or backward?”
“’Tis all one to me just so it goes,” she answered.
This, too, was heard all over the hall, and those words also became a saying in Värmland.
The day after the ball Fredrik Sandberg was again summoned by the collegians, and once again he was togged out and sent to Mamselle Brorström.
He found her standing by the stove, as usual, making waffles. That day she was not attired in red tulle but only in her petticoat and undervest. The schoolboy thought that never had he seen such a sour-looking face, such strong arms and formidable fists. The words he was to speak wanted to stick in his throat. But just outside the door stood three of the most dangerous collegians, and Fredrik knew what it would mean to get into the bad graces of the powers that be!
“I most humbly beg to know whether Mamselle Brorström had a pleasant time last evening at the ball,” he said, and made a low bow.
How Fredrik Sandberg got out of the room, across the hall, down the stairs, and into the street, he never knew. Nor did the three collegians who had been lurking behind the door know how they had been assisted down the stairs. It was well they were there, so that Fredrik was not alone on this treat, which proved to be more than enough for them all.
This episode was imprinted indelibly in the mind of Lieutenant Lagerlöf, who at the time it occurred was a lad attending school at Karlstad. And of an evening, as he sat in his rocker, he would tell the tale to his children. Though he was himself the kindest and gentlest of men, the mad pranks of schoolboys were always a source of amusement to him.