# Mårbacka/Part 5, Chapter 1

Lieutenant Lagerlöf believed that children, in order to grow up healthy and strong and become useful and capable men and women, should above all things acquire the habit of nooning. With that object in mind, always, after the midday meal, he would take the two youngest children down to the farm-office, which was in another building a few steps from the house.
The office was a large room, and probably looked about the same as in the days of the Mårbacka clergymen, when it had been their study. At the far end, under a window, there was a black leather lounge, and before it an oblong table. Along one side-wall stood a bedstead, a black leather-seated chair, a large black walnut writing table, and a high chest of drawers, while at the other side stood another bed and black leather chair and a tile stove. On the wall, beyond the stove, hung three fowling pieces, a seal-skin game-bag, a large horse-pistol, a couple of powder horns, and a fencing foil which crossed a broken sabre. In the midst of this armoury rested a huge pair of elk antlers. Down by the door, on one side, there was a stationary clothes ​cupboard, on the other side, a bookcase. At the bottom of the cupboard reposed the Lieutenant's iron-bound oak chest, the one the Paymaster of the Regiment had used, and which was a bit charred on one corner.
In the bookcase the Lieutenant kept his big ledgers, and there, also, were the school books of two generations. Many annuals of the European Feuilleton were crowded in with Homer, Cicero, and Livy. Histories of Peter the Great and Frederick the Wise had been relegated hither on account of their common drab cardboard bindings, also the works of Wilhelm von Braun—though not because of their covers but for other reasons. On the floor lay surveyors' instruments from the time the Lieutenant had assisted in the shifting of boundary lines; also some boxes of fishing tackle and odds and ends.
First thing, on coming into the office, the Lieutenant and his little daughters had to drive out the flies. Doors and windows were thrown wide open. The Lieutenant caught up a towel for the chase, and the little girls took off their aprons and went to beating the air. They climbed on to chairs and tables, hunted and swatted, while the buzzing flies flew hither and yon, as if determined not to go. However, in the end they were cleared out, and windows and doors were closed.
But there was one fly they called the Old Office Fly; she was used to the daily chase, and knew enough to keep out of the way while it went on. When all was ​quiet and peaceful again, she would come forth from her hiding place and seat herself on the ceiling.
No fresh chase was started for her. The Lieutenant and the children knew that she was too canny for them. They could never get rid of her! So they went on to the next thing to be done before nooning. The girls arranged two leather pillows and a down pillow on the lounge as a head-rest for the Lieutenant; whereupon he stretched himself out, shut his eyes, and simulated sleep.
Then, with wild shrieks, the children threw themselves upon him. He tossed them off as if they were little balls of yarn, but back they came like playful puppies. They pulled his whiskers, ruffled his hair, and clambered up on to the sofa, playing all sorts of pranks on him.
When the Lieutenant thought the children had had enough of play he clapped his hands once, and said:
"It's over now."
Little good that did! The children kept right on; again and again they crawled up on to the sofa, were flung off, and came bounding back—shrieking and making a fearful racket.
When that had gone on for some little time, the Lieutenant clapped twice and said: "It's quite over now."
Nor did that have any effect. The same performance was repeated amid shrieks and laughter, until the Lieutenant presently clapped his hands three times, and said:
​"Now it is really and truly over."
The two children instantly hushed their noise, and each crept into her own bed to sleep.
After a little the Lieutenant began to snore. His snores were not very loud, but they were enough to keep the two children, who were to acquire the habit of nooning, awake.
The youngsters were not allowed to get out of bed or speak to each other, but had to lie perfectly still. Their eyes, meanwhile, wandered round the room. Gazing at the rag mats on the floor, they recognized their mother's and their aunt's old dresses, which had been cut up for carpets. They looked at the portrait of General Malmberg, which hung on the wall between two battle canvasses, at the ink-well and pen, at the antlers and game-bags, at the foil and the famous gun called the "harekiller." They traced the figures in the quilt, they counted the stars on the wall-paper, the nail-heads along the floor, and the checks in the curtains. The hour seemed dreadfully long! They heard the merry voices of the other children, who were so big they did not have to take a midday nap, but ran about—happy and free—devouring cherries and gooseberries and green apples!
The sole hope of the two little girls was the "office fly." She buzzed and buzzed round the Lieutenant's face, making as much noise as she could. If only she kept at it long enough she'd wake him up!