“Now for pity’s sake don’t take it to the parson’s or the founderer’s!” he said.
This time, also, the little girls volunteered to clean the fish. And now they were repaid for their trouble. There was slom enough for the whole family at supper, and some left over for the Lieutenant’s breakfast. But the serving-folk did not have any that day, either. It was too choice a dish for them.
The third day the fisherman delivered enough slom to fill a large earthen bowl. Slom was now served at the family table for both breakfast and supper, and in the kitchen it was set before the overseer, but not before the stableman or the farmboy.
The next few days folk from every little hamlet along the lake came bringing slom to Mårbacka. The Lieutenant bought from all. Soon every earthen vessel in the cupboard was filled to overflowing, and the fish had to be emptied into a huge copper kettle; when even that would not hold it all, it was dumped into a big vat.
But to clean such a lot of small fish was no light task! The housemaids had to leave off spinning and weaving to sit in the kitchen cleaning slom. The three little girls were no longer to be seen in the schoolroom. It was not for fun they cleaned slom now, but to help the grown-ups. Fru Lagerlöf and Mamselle Lovisa put aside their other work to give a hand. But it was a bit of a change for them all—a little departure from the usual routine.
The housekeeper did not help clean fish, she stood at the stove the whole day frying it. Before long she began to complain of the quantities of butter the fish was taking. The butter-tub had been full only a few days before, and she could already see the bottom. That was the first break in the general satisfaction.
The family had slom for breakfast and slom for supper; but thus far at dinner there was the usual Värmland midday fare—corned beef or pork, or herring-balls, or fried ham, or sausage, or whatever else there was on hand. But such fare was not to the taste of Lieutenant Lagerlöf. One day when he was served meat that had lain in brine since autumn, he lost all patience.
“I don’t see why we should sit here and eat salt food when the pantry is full of nice fresh fish,” he flung out. “But that’s always the way of these fine housekeepers; they feed the homefolk on salt stuff and let the fresh things stand on the shelves and spoil—waiting for company.”
That was a sharp rap at his sister. But Mamselle Lovisa took it calmly; she was too fond of her brother to be offended by anything he might say. She meekly answered that she had never heard of any one’s setting slom before guests.
“I know, Lovisa, that you are too refined to eat slom. You have been out in the great world, and know how things ought to be. But I don’t see why we back here at Mårbacka need bother ourselves about what they do in Karlstad or Åmål.”