“It is always a pleasure to talk with Wachenfeldt,” said Mamselle Lovisa.
“If it is true that he has been so helpful to others, then how does it happen that he has managed his own affairs so badly?” queried Fru Lagerlöf, dryly.
“Some folks are like that,” the Lieutenant averred.
*****
Thenceforth, Colour-Sergeant von Wachenfeldt “feasted right royally,” as is said in Fritiof’s Saga—throughout the Christmas holidays, playing the wise and all-knowing old man. One could get his advice on almost everything. He could prescribe for pimples and the snuffles, give counsel in matters of dress, write recipes for cooking and dyeing, give instruction in agriculture, and offer the best and cleverest judgments of people. They appealed to him to settle knotty problems.
“Doesn’t Wachenfeldt think it strange these children cannot be induced to eat carrots?” Mamselle Lovisa once put to him.
Colour-Sergeant von Wachenfeldt rose to the occasion.
“Wake me in the middle of the night and offer me carrots, and I’ll eat.”
It was positively unnatural his being so reasonable and practical. The dashing cavalier of old, the conquering hero with the sixty silver bells, was apparently no more.
Then it happened that Lieutenant Lagerlöf during one of Wachenfeldt’s visits got into an argument with the ladies about a young girl in the district. Fru Lagerlöf and Mamselle Lovisa both thought her sweet and winsome, while the Lieutenant declared that no man could ever fall in love with her. He appealed the case in point to Wachenfeldt, as was the custom in the family.