That one may well understand. Johan was then seven years of age, and learning to read under the tutelage of Herr Tyberg. He was a boy, of course, and almost regarded as the eldest child; though, to be sure, he had an elder brother. But the latter mostly stayed with his maternal grandparents at Filipstad, and was hardly ever at home. And now, all at once, it seemed that nobody had a thought for him—Johan—but only for the littlest girl.
As for Anna—she was five, and she could already both sew and crochet. She was pretty to look at, too, and the elder daughter, and mamma’s pet. But what was the good of all that since Selma had gone and got sick?
The grown-ups, you see, were so touched by the sight of a child who could not walk. “How will the poor little thing go through life?” they would sigh.—— “She’ll have to stay in the one place always, and never see anything of the world.”—— “She’ll never get married and she’ll never be able to support herself.”—— “It’s going to be cruelly hard for her, poor child.” They were all very tender and full of pity for the sick girl. Now that Johan and Anna had nothing against; but folks didn’t have to forget that there were other children.
The worst one of all, though, was Back-Kaisa. She carried Selma on her back, prattled with her, and told her she was a perfect little angel. And, indeed, Father and Mother and Granny and Auntie were not much better. Didn’t the clever old carpenter at Askersby have to make her a little wagon, so that Back-Kaisa might draw her about? And were Johan and Anna ever allowed to borrow that wagon to cart sand in?—No, no! That was for Selma’s use, and they mustn’t soil it.
Johan and Anna both knew that when Selma could walk there had been nothing remarkable about her; but now visitors couldn’t come to the house but she must be carried in for them to see and make a fuss over. And if a peasant woman happened to drop into the kitchen Back-Kaisa was there in a jiffy, showing Selma to her. The exasperating thing about it all was that Back-Kaisa was forever saying what a good child Selma was—she never cried and never sulked, even though so helpless. And why shouldn’t she be good, thought Johan and Anna, the way she was treated! Carried about, and waited on, and petted, day in and day out!
Yes, Back-Kaisa was certainly very trying, Johan and Anna agreed. She could not bear to see Fru Lagerlöf make Anna a prettier dress than the one Selma got; and if any one happened to say of Johan, that he was a nice polite little boy, she’d always remark: “’Twould be a shame for one that’s able to walk, and can go where he likes, not to be good.”
That old Doctor Hedberg of Sunne was called in time and again on Selma’s account, Johan and Anna thought no more than right; nor did they complain when Högman’s Inga, who often came to the manor to mumble over sick cows and pigs, was consulted. But they felt it had gone rather far when once, in the absence of Lieutenant Lagerlöf, Back-Kaisa and Granny and the housekeeper put their heads together, and sent for the dangerous old witch-doctor of Högbergssäter—she who every Maundy Thursday greased a broomstick and went riding to the Witches’ Kitchen. They had heard that she had the power to set fire to a house by just looking at it, and were dreadfully uneasy the whole time she was at Mårbacka. They thought it very wrong of Back-Kaisa to bring a horrid creature like her to the house.
Of course Johan and Anna wanted to have Selma restored to health. They above everyone wished her well again. All the same, they didn’t think it a bit nice of her to go and catch a sickness no one could cure. But Back-Kaisa must have thought differently. For when neither Doctor Hedberg, who had so often cured them of coughs and colds, nor Högman’s Inga, who never failed with cows and pigs, nor yet the dangerous witch-hag, who could put life into a broomstick, had been able to help her, Back-Kaisa vowed she was growing more and more wonderful all the time. And when Lieutenant Lagerlöf finally took her to Karlstad and showed her to Surgeon Major Haak, who was the best doctor in the city, and even he could do nothing for her, then Back-Kaisa was ready to burst with pride. Now wouldn’t it have been better if Selma had taken on a sickness that would come to an end? So at least thought Johan and Anna.
The worst of it was that Selma was getting quite spoiled by Back-Kaisa’s being too good to her. Little as she was, she had found out that it was not necessary for her to be as obedient as the other children, who could stand on their feet. Above all, she did not have to eat food that was not to her liking. When Fru Lagerlöf set before her a helping of stewed carrots, or spinach, or some hard-boiled eggs, or a plate of ale-soup, she was not expected to finish her portion as in other days; she had only to push her plate away, and immediately Back-Kaisa ran out to the kitchen and fetched something Selma liked.
And it was not enough with that!—Johan and Anna noticed that when Doctor Hedberg and Högman’s Inga and the old witch had all failed to cure her, Selma thought herself too grand to eat plain fare. Why, she barely deigned to touch fried chicken and new potatoes and wild strawberries and cream. But when she had been to Karlstad, and the great Doctor Haak had said he could do nothing for her, then she would not eat anything but pastry and preserves.