“You see!” said Mrs. September.
Then she rose up, and went into the house, telling the children to sit still and finish the grapes. They heard her moving softly to and fro: after a while she came again, and showed them a handful of spider-web legs and gauzy wings.
“There they are,” she said. “Not one of them has escaped. You will sleep soundly to-night, little ones; and I shall give Master August a piece of my mind next time we meet, for playing such naughty tricks.
“And now for my story. By the way, have either of you ever seen the sea?”
“No,” replied Thekla. “But the Grandfather did once; and Fritz is there now.”
“Don’t you know?” said Max. “That’s our big brother, who went away a great while ago, when Thekla and I were very little. He was coming back; but, then, he didn’t come. I don’t know why. And now the Grandfather says he never will. Is it because the sea is such a pleasant place?”
“I don’t know,” replied September, dreamily,—“I don’t know why he doesn’t come. But if you never saw the sea, how in the world am I going to make you understand my story?”
“It’s very big,—I know that,” ventured Max,—“and all water.”
“Did you ever so much as see a lake or a pond?”