"Will the bold Fräulein venture out in such wetness?
"The bold Fräulein would.
"Did she not fear the dampness?
"The Fräulein adored dampness.
"Was there no message that could be sent?
"The Fräulein had no message. She was going out for her pleasure.
"Frau Henich looked at me in pity and amazement. Generally she considers me erratic, but on occasions of this sort she knows I am unbalanced. As I closed the door I could feel that she was still wondering in which branch of my family insanity was rampant. Now there is a certain tiny store in Cologne which I intend to buy out some day. It is a most fascinating place, with the windows full of gay knit garters, and hideous pictures of the saints, and dried herrings, and with funny little reward-of-merit-cards and work-boxes tucked away in dark corners.
"Of course none of these things are exactly in my line, but the mistress of the house sells a delicious little German cake that is my especial delight. Whenever my music lessons go badly or I fail to get a letter from home, I comfort myself with a bag of these little 'pfeffernes.'
"On this rainy day the shop was even more inviting than usual. It was brightly lighted with three candles, a big pussy cat was purring on the mat, and there was an odour of hot gingerbread in the air. My long walk had made me hungry, and I recklessly ordered two dozen cakes, a square of the frosted gingerbread, and a little pail of sauerkraut which tasted and smelled very German indeed. It was dark outside, so I didn't stay to practise my German on the rosy-faced woman behind the counter, but took my bundles hurriedly. I paddled out, leaving a long stream of green water in my wake—(the colour in my green umbrella has 'run' as you predicted)—and faced the storm.
"The long narrow street was deserted, and I sprinted along making good time, though my feet were soaking wet and I could feel the water gurgle in my shoes at every step. As I started across a muddy street within two blocks of Frau Henich's, a sudden gust of wind blew my umbrella inside out. I righted it by facing about and holding it against the wind. Then clutching my bundles a little tighter, and still treading determinedly backwards, I bumped forcibly into a man who was coming towards me. The result was what might have been expected. We sat down in the street. The gingerbread went into his lap, the cakes fell about me like stars from a rocket, and from what I could see in the dusk the kraut seemed to be equally divided between us. We both sat perfectly still for a moment. Then six feet of masculinity arose from the mud, with the sound of a suction pump, and approached me, with the air of a count. 'Are you hurt, Fräulein?' he inquired, in irreproachable German that made me green with envy. I felt of myself in the cleanest places and decided that I was not. He helped me up with difficulty, for the mud had a strong attraction for me, too, and I feebly began to collect my thoughts, and my cakes, and to look about for my umbrella.