Lieutenant Lagerlöf, however, went on buying. The fisherman who had brought the first mess, true to his word, came faithfully every day, and sometimes twice a day. But his manner was noticeably changed. He now pulled the latch-string very gently, and came in with a meek and deprecating smile. He did not set the fish on the kitchen table but left it outside the door. Though he removed his cap and said Good-day, he had to stand and wait a good half-hour before anyone seemed aware of his presence. Pleasant as it had been for both the maids and the children to escape for a while from the old routine, they were by now so sick and tired of cleaning fish they longed to get back to their regular tasks. None of them would so much as look at the fisherman. “I say, Lars, you’re not bringing slom again to-day, are you?” the housekeeper once asked him, as if he were offering stolen goods. The man just blinked his eyes; he was too abashed to utter a word. “We’ve got more fish now than we can eat,” she told him. “I don’t believe the Lieutenant wants to buy any more of that horrid stuff.” However, she knew the Lieutenant was not to be trifled with in the matter of slom, so of course she had to go in and tell him the fisherman had come. One day the Lieutenant was out when the old man appeared, so the housekeeper peremptorily ordered him away. All in the kitchen were glad, thinking that for once they would not have to clean any slom. But as luck would have it, the old man met the Lieutenant in the lane; and the latter bought his whole bagful of fish and sent him back to the house with it. It went on like that for a couple of weeks. Everyone was weary and disgusted--except the Lieutenant. He chanted the praises of slom at every meal; it was wholesome and nutritious food. One need only look at the fishermen down in Bohuslän who lived upon fish; they were the strongest and healthiest men in the whole country. One evening Mamselle Lovisa tried to tempt him with larded pancakes, a favourite dish of his. And no wonder! for such larded pancakes as the old housekeeper made you never tasted in all your life! “The overseer and the men, I suppose, must have their fill of slom, so you want me to be satisfied with pancakes.” The Lieutenant waved away the plate of nice hot cakes. “Oh, no, that’s not the reason,” said Mamselle Lovisa. “The overseer and the men are so sick of slom we dare not set it before them.” Then the Lieutenant had to laugh; but, as he would not touch the pancakes, they had to fetch him his slom.