"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.