but the melodies put them in a glow and livened their spirits. Ah, how sweet it sounded when Ulla danced in spangles, veil and fringe! or when Fredman sang: "'Tis as far to Monday as from north to south." And what could be funnier than when the ever-hapless Mollberg jumped into the vat where Grogshop-Mother soaked her stockfish, or when at the great boating-picnic the party-cake came on garnished with sugar, cinnamon, and anchovies!
But what delighted the children above everything was that they might sing as loud as ever they wished. The Lieutenant never corrected them or interrupted to remind them that there were such things as voice modulation and singing in unison. They thought they sang Bellman just as he should be sung.
On the wall above the piano sat Karl Mikael (Bellman) himself, with his lute. Now and then, the Lieutenant looked up at him, as if expecting a smile of approval from that incomparable lyrist and singer.
But once when Lieutenant Lagerlöf and the children were having a Bellman-sing, it happened that Colour-Sergeant von Wachenfeldt was there, sitting in his usual corner, chatting with Mamselle Lovisa.
"Isn't it strange that not one of the children has a voice?" Mamselle Lovisa remarked to the Sergeant in a half-whisper.
"Yes," replied the Sergeant in a low tone. "That they haven't singing voices they can't help, but they might at least make use of their ears!"
