"Oh dear, I wish it were night!" said Max on the morning of the 30th. "April and May were so nice that I'm really in a hurry to have the day go."
"I'm not," replied sensible Thekla. "I like to have to wait a little for pleasant things, because then they last so much longer. And I'm real glad there are so many more Months to come,—six,—no, seven, counting June. Let's work hard to-day, Brother; and then the time will seem short."
Max agreed; and by twelve o'clock the famous spoon, upon which he had been so long engaged, was done. It was cleverly carved for a young workman; and, as there was plenty of time before the Fair, he set to work at once upon a fork to match, and grew so interested that when the sun set he cried out, "Oh dear, it's too bad! The days aren't half long enough."
Thekla laughed, but was too wise, and too tender of Max's feelings, to say, "I told you so," as some little girls would have done. She only
