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.
