he went for the instruments he had hurriedly assembled. His violin he offered to Sexton Melanoz, who most humbly protested that there were those in the room far more worthy than he to handle this, the greatest of all musical instruments. But when none claimed the distinction, he was as pleased as if he had suddenly come into a fortune, and at once proceeded to tune up.
The flute went to Herr Tyberg, of course. It had been his instrument in the regiment, when he had outgrown the drum. He was well acquainted with the old flute at Mårbacka, and knew it to be always dry and leaky. So he ran out to the kitchen to dip the flute in pale beer and bind it round with tow, to make it hold together.
The guitar was handed to Bookkeeper Geijer, who had a long thin face, a long slender neck, limpid blue eyes, and long slim fingers. There was a certain wistfulness about him, a sort of languishing grace. With a little girlish laugh, he strung the guitar-ribbon round his neck and tenderly pressed the instrument to his heart, as if embracing a sweetheart. The guitar had only three strings, but they were enough for him who was wont to perform on nothing better than a deal table.
Church-beadle Asker had had the foresight to bring his own clarinet. It was in the back pocket of his greatcoat, so that he had only to go down to the office and fetch it.
Colour-Sergeant von Wachenfeldt, sitting in his usual corner by the fire, tried to put on a good face, though he
