The amazing thing about it all was that when Colour-Sergeant von Wachenfeldt related any of his personal experiences he invariably stood out as the wisest and most prudent man one could wish to meet. That he had taken part in many adventures and exploits was true enough, but he had always played the rôle of the counselling friend who helped stupid folk out of their scrapes. Just to mention the Wästfelts of Angersby: what a staff he had been to these nice, childish persons! Particularly at the time when the son’s intended threw him over and announced her engagement to another. No man ever spoke with greater veneration of his mother or his wife. Such a model son and devoted husband all might wish to have. He had always talked sensibly to young women, smoothed out lovers’ quarrels, and welded together marriage bonds that threatened to break asunder. All the unhappy ones had made a confidant of him, and he had never betrayed them. He had even saved men seized with the gambling fever, had talked them to rights and reminded them of their duties. After supper, when Von Wachenfeldt had limped down to his room, Lieutenant Lagerlöf, his wife and sister sat staring at each other--dumbfounded. “Oh, that Wachenfeldt!” the Lieutenant exclaimed. “He’s a wonder; he knows more than all of us put together.” “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.