CHAPTER VIII.
THE STORY OF A LITTLE SPARK.
⟨"I WONDER what kind of a story we shall was to-night," said Max, as they sat on the door-step waiting for August to appear.⟩
⟨Thekla, who had been ironing, looked very pale and complained of a headache. The day had been hot; no cool wind had come with evening to refresh them; the leaves hung motionless. Far, far away the tinkle of a bell was audible, from some animal astray in the Forest.⟩
⟨"I don't recollect much about August," said Thekla, languidly. "Was she pretty?"⟩
⟨"I don't either," answered Max. "There was such a confusion that night the Months came, that I got them all mixed up in my mind. I⟩
