“’Tis all one to me just so it goes,” she answered. This, too, was heard all over the hall, and those words also became a saying in Värmland. The day after the ball Fredrik Sandberg was again summoned by the collegians, and once again he was togged out and sent to Mamselle Brorström. He found her standing by the stove, as usual, making waffles. That day she was not attired in red tulle but only in her petticoat and undervest. The schoolboy thought that never had he seen such a sour-looking face, such strong arms and formidable fists. The words he was to speak wanted to stick in his throat. But just outside the door stood three of the most dangerous collegians, and Fredrik knew what it would mean to get into the bad graces of the powers that be! “I most humbly beg to know whether Mamselle Brorström had a pleasant time last evening at the ball,” he said, and made a low bow. How Fredrik Sandberg got out of the room, across the hall, down the stairs, and into the street, he never knew. Nor did the three collegians who had been lurking behind the door know how they had been assisted down the stairs. It was well they were there, so that Fredrik was not alone on this treat, which proved to be more than enough for them all. This episode was imprinted indelibly in the mind of Lieutenant Lagerlöf, who at the time it occurred was a lad attending school at Karlstad. And of an evening, as he sat in his rocker, he would tell the tale to his children. Though he was himself the kindest and gentlest of men, the mad pranks of schoolboys were always a source of amusement to him. III RIDING TO “BLÅKULLA” IN Grandmother Lagerlöf’s time, when the paupers of the community were taken into families and cared for, there was an old wardswoman at Mårbacka who on winter nights used to sleep in the kitchen--though goodness knows the room was crowded enough anyhow, with the housekeeper and five maids all sleeping there! So at the first signs of summer she would betake herself to the barn-loft, where she had found a good comfortable bed in an old discarded sledge, which in bygone winters had been used for carting pig-iron from the smithies in Bergslagerna to the Kymsberg Iron Works. There for several weeks she had slept in peace and quiet. Then, one night, she was awakened by the sledge moving. She sat bolt upright and looked round. Outside, the night was almost as light as day, but in the barn where the poor old woman lay it was pitch dark, so that she could not see anything. Thinking that she had only been dreaming, she sank back upon her pillow and was soon slumbering again. But strange to say, she had no more than got to sleep when the sledge began to move again. This time it not only gave a little lurch but went gliding along the floor. Though it moved kind of slowly and cautiously, there was no mistaking that there was life in it. The old woman sat up and gripped the side of the sledge with both hands. Her hair rose and her jaw fell.