supper; but thus far at dinner there was the usual Värmland midday fare—corned beef or pork, or herring-balls, or fried ham, or sausage, or whatever else there was on hand. But such fare was not to the taste of Lieutenant Lagerlöf. One day when he was served meat that had lain in brine since autumn, he lost all patience.
"I don't see why we should sit here and eat salt food when the pantry is full of nice fresh fish," he flung out. "But that's always the way of these fine housekeepers; they feed the homefolk on salt stuff and let the fresh things stand on the shelves and spoil—waiting for company."
That was a sharp rap at his sister. But Mamselle Lovisa took it calmly; she was too fond of her brother to be offended by anything he might say. She meekly answered that she had never heard of any one's setting slom before guests.
"I know, Lovisa, that you are too refined to eat slom. You have been out in the great world, and know how things ought to be. But I don't see why we back here at Mårbacka need bother ourselves about what they do in Karlstad or Åmål."
A light broke in on Mamselle Lovisa. "But surely you don't want slom for dinner, too!" she exclaimed, as if such a thing were unprecedented.
"Certainly I'll eat slom whenever I can get it. Why do you suppose I buy it every day, if I'm not to have any myself?"
