"I say, Lars, you're not bringing slom again to-day, are you?" the housekeeper once asked him, as if he were offering stolen goods.
The man just blinked his eyes; he was too abashed to utter a word.
"We've got more fish now than we can eat," she told him. "I don't believe the Lieutenant wants to buy any more of that horrid stuff." However, she knew the Lieutenant was not to be trifled with in the matter of slom, so of course she had to go in and tell him the fisherman had come.
One day the Lieutenant was out when the old man appeared, so the housekeeper peremptorily ordered him away. All in the kitchen were glad, thinking that for once they would not have to clean any slom. But as luck would have it, the old man met the Lieutenant in the lane; and the latter bought his whole bagful of fish and sent him back to the house with it.
It went on like that for a couple of weeks. Everyone was weary and disgusted—except the Lieutenant. He chanted the praises of slom at every meal; it was wholesome and nutritious food. One need only look at the fishermen down in Bohuslän who lived upon fish; they were the strongest and healthiest men in the whole country.
One evening Mamselle Lovisa tried to tempt him with larded pancakes, a favourite dish of his. And no wonder! for such larded pancakes as the old housekeeper made you never tasted in all your life!
