The Lieutenant pounded out the accompaniments, and hummed the air, to mark the time and carry the tune. But the children sang at the top of their voices, and could be heard all over the house. Here were indeed life and merriment for them after the day’s work! They understood very little of what they sang, but the melodies put them in a glow and livened their spirits. Ah, how sweet it sounded when _Ulla_ danced in spangles, veil and fringe! or when _Fredman_ sang: “’Tis as far to Monday as from north to south.” And what could be funnier than when the ever-hapless _Mollberg_ jumped into the vat where _Grogshop-Mother_ soaked her stockfish, or when at the great boating-picnic the party-cake came on garnished with sugar, cinnamon, and anchovies! But what delighted the children above everything was that they might sing as loud as ever they wished. The Lieutenant never corrected them or interrupted to remind them that there were such things as voice modulation and singing in unison. They thought they sang Bellman just as he should be sung. On the wall above the piano sat Karl Mikael (Bellman) himself, with his lute. Now and then, the Lieutenant looked up at him, as if expecting a smile of approval from that incomparable lyrist and singer. But once when Lieutenant Lagerlöf and the children were having a Bellman-sing, it happened that Colour-Sergeant von Wachenfeldt was there, sitting in his usual corner, chatting with Mamselle Lovisa. “Isn’t it strange that not one of the children has a voice?” Mamselle Lovisa remarked to the Sergeant in a half-whisper. “Yes,” replied the Sergeant in a low tone. “That they haven’t singing voices they can’t help, but they might at least make use of their ears!” “It seems extraordinary, when both parents are musical, don’t you think so, Wachenfeldt? I can’t understand how Gustaf endures it!” “He does not hear it as it sounds to us,” said the Sergeant. “He loves those children.” “People are wont to speak of seeing with the eyes of love,” observed Mamselle Lovisa, “and there may be such a thing as hearing with the ears of love....” “Be sure of that!” responded the Colour-Sergeant, who knew whereof he spoke. One of the little singers chanced to overhear those remarks, and repeated them to the others, and perhaps it was due to that that the Bellman “concerts” at Mårbacka were suddenly discontinued. But long afterward--aye, always--the love of the Bellman songs lived in the hearts of the Mårbacka children. They loved them not only for their humour and pathos and their haunting beauty; but the faintest tone from the Bellman lute called up memories of the never-failing love and tenderness that had made their childhood such a happy one! V BOYS AND GIRLS