Mamselle Brorström had been rather repentant and thoughtful that morning, and had wondered if she really ought to go to the ball. She would no doubt have put all thought of it out of her mind if Fredrik Sandberg had not come and begged for the first waltz. But now that she was certain of a dancing partner she was again in good humour. She assured Fredrik Sandberg that she felt both favoured and honoured, and that nothing would afford her greater pleasure than to let him dance with her. That was the very day of the ball. And in the evening Mamselle Brorström, arrayed in her red tulle dress (than which nothing could be prettier, she thought) appeared at the Masonic Lodge among Karlstaders and Fair visitors. Stalking through the ladies’ dressing room into the grand ballroom, she sat herself down on one of the small cushioned seats along the wall. People stared, but she did not mind. Having been invited, she had as good a right as any one else to dance at the Fair Ball. She noticed that the other ladies all had acquaintances to chat with, but this did not trouble her; when once the music struck up for the dance, they’d see that she had as fine a partner as any of them. The regiment band began to play. She saw the foundry clerks step up to the founderers’ daughters, the lieutenants to the officers’ ladies, and the shop clerks to the shopkeepers’ girls--each took his partner. Soon everyone was on the floor whirling round--everyone except Mamselle Brorström, who sat waiting for Fredrik Sandberg. The collegians were on the platform with the musicians. They had a good view of Mamselle Brorström in her red tulle, sitting all alone in the middle of the long row of wall seats, where the one she was waiting for might easily find her. The wife of the Governor put up her lorgnette and wondered who that large, conspicuous looking woman was. The daughters of the founderers stuck up their noses at her, while the young ladies of the nobility marvelled that a person of that sort should come to a Fair Ball. Mamselle Brorström meanwhile remained seated in the one place. Fredrik Sandberg did not put in an appearance and no one else seemed to think of asking her to dance. There was a supper, and after that more dancing. The fine folk were now leaving and the gentlemen began to look a bit flushed; but Mamselle Brorström still sat on. Then at last Tanner Grunder stepped up and asked for a polka. “’Tis high time!” said Mamselle Brorström in a voice loud enough to be heard all over the ballroom. And those words became a catch phrase in Värmland. The tanner had been in a side room playing cards the whole evening, and had just come out for a little spin. As she was the only lady disengaged he naturally went over to her--not knowing, of course, her state of mind. As Mamselle Brorström stood up to fling herself into the dizzy whirl, Tanner Grunder, to be polite and obliging, said: “What is Mamselle Brorström’s pleasure--to dance forward or backward?”