At last September spoke. Her voice was wonderfully rich and musical, but full of deep, powerful tones, which it was easy to imagine could be heard above the storm, or the loudest thunder. What she said was,—
"Are you better now, dears?"
"Oh! much better," they told her.
"I met my Brother August as I came along," continued September; "and I guessed, from what he said, that he had been teasing you. He is a fine fellow, but has a quick, revengeful temper; and he bears a grudge against Max for stealing the moments. But it is too bad to visit it on little Thekla, for she wasn't to blame."
"I'd rather share with Max, please," said Thekla, shaking her head: "we don't want any thing different."
"That's a kind little sister," answered September. "Well, August has made you uncomfortable; but, after all, he hasn't been so bad, for he might have given you a stroke with the great yellow sun-club he keeps on purpose to use when
