s and undertakings arise in a moment
of time, something of the same kind might well be said of Barbara's
shop.

Barely a week later she was in her house, and had in the window an
exhibition of balls of cotton, bread, twists, sweets, stay-laces,
needle-cases, snuff, clay pipes, steel pens, matches, etc., etc., while
she herself sat behind the counter--which was a packing-case disguised
under some print--and ground coffee, which she roasted in the kitchen
beyond. In a drawer that would lock, which Nikolai had overlooked, stood
the cigar-box that did duty as a cash-box, with a few coppers in it.

The acquaintance between Mrs. Holman and Barbara, too, was already
renewed, with the secret about Silla preserved on Barbara's side.

Mrs. Holman--she lived only in the street below--had come up, while
Barbara was standing on her steps in the evening, to look at her new
surroundings by the light of the just completed shop-window. And then
she must not pass an old acquaintance's door. She must come in and have
a cup of coffee--it was standing clearing on the hob, if she would
condescend.

Mrs. Holman might very well have had her own opinion about a good deal
that she saw in there, but she preferred, while she drank her coffee,
to give Barbara some idea of the series of dispensations which she had
passed through since Holman died.

"Oh no, don't turn your cup up yet! _One_ more, Mrs. Holman."

Mrs. Holman drank a third cup too, without becoming at all less
melancholy. Her quiet, cold grey eyes had looked and explored while she
talked, and sucked in observations of Barbara's open-handed, profuse
management, like pipe-clayed fat. But when she left, she had, with many
cautious reservations, and in the hope that Barbara's wares would stand
the test in the long run, expressed her inclination to remove her custom
to Barbara.

Mrs. Holman's Silla was just standing at the counter--she wanted a pint
of groats to take home with her--when Barbara, who was measuring them
out, suddenly saw Ludvig Veyergang at the door.

He had seen Barbara before, and as he passed the door twice a day now,
he nodded to her whenever she showed herself on the steps. But so
friendly as he was to-day! Barbara was quite softened, and very nearly
called him Ludvig, he was so lively and playful about her shop. He stood
looking with half-closed eyes, and laughing at Silla, who grew redder
and more bashful, and only tried in her confusion to get the bag of
groa