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. Johan and Anna had heard that Aunt Nana Hammargren, who lived in Karlstad, was dreadfully worried about Selma, and feared she would starve to death; and they, too, felt that unless something happened very soon to change all this, it might end badly. But something did happen. One morning Back-Kaisa carried the little girl into the kitchen-bedroom and set her down among the pillows on Grandmother Lagerlöf’s big white bed. “Now Selma’s going to see something,” she said. The bed was made up--sheets and all--but it had not been slept in during the night, and apparently no one lay there now, either. Grandmother Lagerlöf, who was not usually up at that early hour, sat all dressed on the corner sofa; and Aunt Lovisa, who shared the kitchen-bedroom, was also up and dressed. They both looked happy and content, and when the little girl was well seated on the bed they arose and went over to her. “Aha! Grand company came last night,” her grandmother said with a chuckle. The little girl laughed, too, for what could be more delightful than having visitors in the house! She looked up and down and all around, wondering where the grand company might be. It was nowhere in the room, surely--not in the yellow corner-cupboard, nor behind the tall grandfather’s clock, nor under Auntie’s chiffonier. There was only one good hiding-place--the covered passage leading to the cellar; but the grand company could never have crawled in there.