in frilled shirt and stock, satin waistcoat of large flowered pattern, gray trousers with foot-straps, blue swallow-tail coat with silver buttons, and patent leather shoes. His hair was then curled, and arranged in a forelock, gloves and walking stick were put into his hands, and a tall stove-pipe hat with curved brim topped it all.
If only Fredrik Sandberg had not been so small that the trousers hung in pleats, the coat tails almost trailed on the ground, and the hat went down on his ears, he would have been as fine a dandy as ever trod a city street. Thus arrayed, he was ordered off to Mamselle Brorström's.
When Fredrik Sandberg entered the attic room where Mamselle Brorström lived, he found her standing before her tile-stove making waffles. Her attire was a bit so-so—just a petticoat and undervest. The little schoolboy thought to himself that never had he seen such arms and legs, such hands and feet, and such a torso!
"My name is Fredrik Sandberg," he said by way of introduction, "and I would most humbly beg that I may be permitted to invite Mamselle Brorström to the Fair Ball at the Masonic Lodge."
Mamselle Brorström was not exactly what would be termed "in society," and had surely never thought of going to a fair ball. But now, being invited by an elegant cavalier, she could hardly refuse. So, curtsying to Fredrik Sandberg, she thanked him and said she
