"Preposterous, the whole business," grumbled the shoemaker. "Who would dream that there would be such a thaw right on top of such an unreasonable snow-storm--and in March, too!"

Then he noticed that he had lost his cap, so we dug in the snow again, searching for it, and had lots of fun before we finally found it.

All this excitement over the snowslide made us crazy for more fun, and we decided that we would go to Madam Graaberg and ask her if she had white velvet to sell. Madam Graaberg has a little shop in a bas.e.m.e.nt and sells almost nothing but _lu-de-fisk_ (fish soaked in lye, with a rank odor).

First we peeped in the window between the gla.s.ses of groats. Yes, there were many people in the shop and Madam Graaberg stood behind the counter as usual. She is as big as three ordinary women and her eyes are as black as two bits of coal; and my! how they can flash!

We plumped ourselves down into the shop, all four of us. It smelled frightfully of _lu-de-fisk_ and the whole floor was like a puddle from all the wet feet. A fine place to go to ask for white velvet! And Madam Graaberg has an awful temper, let me tell you!

There were many customers to be waited on before us, so we stood together in a bunch at the farthest end of the counter. The time dragged on and on before they had all got their _lu-de-fisk_, for that was what they wanted, the whole swarm of them.

On the counter beside me, there was a big new ball of string in an iron frame, the kind that whirls around when you pull the string. The end of the string dangled so invitingly close to me, and waiting for Madam Graaberg to be ready to attend to us was so tedious, that I busied myself with taking the end of the string and slyly tying it fast to one of the b.u.t.tons on the back of Munda's coat. Of course I meant to untie the string before we went out, but Madam Graaberg turned suddenly to us.

"What do you want, children?" asked she, portly and dignified, towering over the counter.

We were all a little bewildered because she had come to us so abruptly, but we pushed Munda forward. My, how uncomfortable she looked!

"Have you any white velvet for sale?" asked Munda feebly.

I gave a spring towards the door, for it seemed best to get away at once. Two maids stood there, who roared with laughter. "Ha ha! Ha ha!

Madam Graaberg, that's pretty good. Ha ha!"

"White velvet," hissed Madam Graaberg. "White velvet! Make a fool of me in my own lawful business, will you? Out of my shop this instant!"

She didn't need to tell us twice. We dashed helter-skelter out of the door, all four of us, splashing the mud and slush recklessly.

Suddenly Munda cried out, "Oh, I'm fast to something! I'm fast to something behind!"

Just think! I had forgotten to untie the string from the b.u.t.ton! I thought I heard a buzzing noise when we flew out of the door, but it never occurred to me that it could be the string-ball whirling around in its frame.

There was no time now to untie the knot, for Madam Graaberg was right out in the street and calling after us. They were not exactly gentle words she was using, either, you may well believe!

"Oh, but I'm fast--I'm fast!" shrieked Munda again.

"Tear off the b.u.t.ton!" I shouted. Munda made some desperate efforts to get hold of her own back. No use; so I took hold of the string and gave a great jerk and off came the b.u.t.ton. Munda was free and we dashed round the street corner.

"Uh, uh huh!" sobbed Munda. "Mother'll be so angry about that b.u.t.ton!"

"Pooh!" said I. "Just sew the hole up, and you can always find a b.u.t.ton to put over it. But oh, girls! How jolly angry Madam Graaberg was!"

"Yes, and wasn't she funny when she said, 'Out of my shop this instant'?"

We were tremendously pleased with our joke. We talked and laughed--enjoying ourselves immensely; but we hadn't had enough tomfoolery yet.

"Girls," I said, "now let's go to Nibb's shop and ask whether he has white velvet."

All were willing. To think of asking that queer Mr. Nibb for white velvet, when he kept only shoe-strings and paraffin for sale! My! but that would be fun! Mr. Nibb always has the window shades tight down over his shop windows, so that not the least thing can be seen from the street. He isn't exactly right in his mind--and do you know what he did once?

It was in church and I sat just in front of him and had on my flat fur cap. He is a great one to sing in church and he stands bolt upright and sings at the top of his voice. And just think! He laid his hymn-book on top of my cap just as if it were a reading desk, and I didn't dare to move my head because he might get in a rage if I did. So he sang and sang and sang, and I sat and sat there with the hymn-book on the top of my head.

Well--that was that time--but now we stood there in the street considering as to whether we should go in and ask him if he had white velvet.

"No, we surely don't dare to," said Karen.

"Oh, yes we do," said I. "He can't kill us."

"Who knows?" said Karen. "He isn't just like other people."

"Pooh! When there are four of us together----" No, they didn't want to--so I suddenly threw the shop door wide open and then we had to go in. Mr. Nibb came towards us bowing and bowing. We pushed Munda forward again.

"Have you any white----" began Munda in a shaking voice. And then our courage suddenly gave way and Karen, Mina, and I sprang to the door as quick as lightning, slamming the door after us, and not stopping until we were at the farther corner of the street. And then we saw that Munda wasn't with us! Why in the world hadn't she come out? What was happening to her? We rushed back and listened outside the shop door. Not a sound was to be heard. Karen and Mina were both as white as chalk.

"It's all your fault," they whispered to me. "Who knows what danger Munda is in?"

At that I was so frightened that I didn't know what I was doing, and I threw the door open at once.

There sat Munda on a chair in the middle of the shop, holding a big apple, and Mr. Nibb stood with his legs crossed, leaning against the counter in a jaunty att.i.tude and talking to her.

"Are there many dances in the town nowadays--young ladies?" asked Mr.

Nibb, turning to us, as we, pale as death, entered the shop.

No answer.

"Or engagements among the young people perhaps," he continued--polite to the last degree.

"People live so quietly in this town;--one might call himself buried alive here, so that a visit from four promising young beauties is--ahem--an adventure!"

Dear me! how comical he was! None of us said a word. Suddenly Munda got up.

"A thousand thanks," she said and curtsied--the apple in her hand.

"Thank you," we echoed, all curtseying; though really I haven't the least idea what we were thanking him for!

"Ah--bah!" said Mr. Nibb waving his hand. "It is I who must thank you. I am much indebted to the young ladies for this delightful call."

With this he opened the door, and came away out on the steps and bowed.

Oh, how we laughed when he had gone in and the door was shut again. We laughed so we could scarcely stand.

"What did he do when you were alone, Munda?"

"He sprang after a chair," said Munda. "And then he sprang after an apple--and then he stood himself there by the counter just as you saw him and began to talk--oh! how frightened I was!"

"What did he say?"

"Ha ha! he--ha ha!--he asked me if I were engaged!"

"Ha ha ha! that was splendid."