Today is Sunday.
The thieves sat down under an oak tree in the garden to wait. A drizzling rain was falling; they were very hungry, so they were quite uncomfortable, but the thought of all that money kept their spirits up. From time to time lights went out in other houses, but in Villa Villekulla they shone on. It so happened that Pippi was learning to dance the schottische, and she didn’t want to go to bed until she was sure she could do it. At last, however, the lights went out in the windows of Villa Villekulla too. The tramps waited quite a while until they were sure Mr. Nilsson must have gone to sleep. At last they crept quietly up to the kitchen door and prepared to open it with their burglar tools. Meanwhile one of them-his name, as a matter of fact, was Bloom-just happened to feel of the doorknob. The door was not locked. He whispered to his companion that the door was open. His companion, a black-haired man called Thunder-Karlsson by those who knew him, answered that it was so much the better for them.
