Marjorie at Seacote

"This is a restful place," said Cousin Ethel, as she leaned back comfortably in her wicker rocker.

"So it is," agreed her husband, "but, if you ask me, I think it's too restful. I like a place with some racket to it, don't you, Hezekiah?"

This was his pet name for King, and the boy replied:

"There's fun enough here, Cousin Jack, if you make it yourself."

"That's so, is it? Well, I guess I'll try to make some. Let's see, isn't Fourth of July next week?"

"Yes, it is," said Marjorie. "Next week, Wednesday."

"Well, that's a good day to have fun; and an especially good day for a racket. What shall we do, kiddies?"

"Do you mean for us to choose?" asked Marjorie.

"No, Mehitabel; you suggest, and I'll choose. You think of the very nicest sort of celebrations you know, and I'll select the nicest of them all."

"Well," said Midget, thoughtfully, "there's a party or a picnic. How many people do you mean, Cousin Jack? And do you mean children or grown-ups?"

"Now I feel aggrieved, and insulted, and chagrined, and many other awful things!" Cousin Jack looked so woe-begone that they almost thought him in earnest. "You know, Mehitabel, that I'm but a child myself! I'm not a grown-up, and I never will be!"

"That's so!" laughed his wife.

"And so, us children will have a celebration of the children, for the children, and by the children! How many perfectly good children do you know down here?"

"Not many," said King; "hardly any, in fact, except the Sand Club."

"The Sand Club! That sounds interesting. Tell me about it."

So King and Marjorie told all about the Sand Club and its six members, and Cousin Jack declared that was just enough for his idea of a Fourth of July celebration.

"Now for the plan," he went on. "How about a picnic in the woods, which I see sticking up over there, and then come back to Bryant Bower for some fireworks later?"

"I think that sounds beautiful!" said Marjorie, and King entirely agreed.

"Why not have the fireworks here?" said Mr. Maynard. "You're too good to these children, Jack."

"Not a bit of it. We can have a celebration here some other night. But I've picked out the glorious Fourth for my own little racketty-packetty party. You see, on that day we can make all the noise we like and not get arrested."

"Can we dress up, Cousin Jack?" asked Marjorie.

"Sure, child; wear your best bib and tucker, if you like, but I like you better in your play-clothes."

"I don't mean that. I mean costumes."

"Midget is great for dressing up," explained King. "She always wants some cheesecloth wobbed around her, and veils and feathers on her head."

"Oh, I see! Why, yes, I rather guess we can dress up."

"I'll wear a red, white, and blue sash, and a liberty cap," said Midget, her eyes dancing.

"Oh, we can do better than that," responded Cousin Jack. "Let's see; we'll make it a sort of reception affair, and you, Mehitabel, can be the Goddess of Liberty, or Miss Columbia, whichever you like. Hezekiah, you can be Uncle Sam! Your respected Cousin Ethel and I will guarantee your costume."

"I want to be a somefin'," spoke up Rosamond, who had been allowed to stay up later than usual, in honor of the guests.

"So you shall, Babykins. I guess we'll let Sister be Miss Columbia, and you shall be a dear little Goddess of Liberty all your own self! How's that?" and Cousin Jack beamed at the smiling Rosy Posy.

"Now, where shall the picnic be?" asked Cousin Ethel, ready to help along the plans.

"There's a lovely grove over beyond the pier," said Midget; "we might go there."

"The very place!" said Cousin Jack; "and we'll have a sand-pail picnic. Didn't you say your coat-of-arms was a sand-pail?"

"Yes, that's the Emblem of the Club."

"And a fine emblem for a picnic. We'll have pails of sandwiches and cakes, and a pail of lemonade, and a pail of ice cream. How's that for emblems?"

"Fine!" said King. "Shall I invite the guests?"

"Yes, my boy. Tell them to assemble here at three o'clock, and we'll depart at once. Tell them all to wear red, white, and blue in honor of the day."

"And do we catch firecrackers?"

"Little ones,—and torpedoes. But no cannon crackers or cap-pistols or bombs or any firearms. I'm not going to have a hospitalful of gunpowder victims on my hands the next day."

"And now," said Mrs. Maynard, "as these wonderful affairs of the nation seem to be all settled, I think you young patriots must skip to bed. Your father and I would like a few words ourselves with these guests of ours."

"Guests of ours," corrected Midget, gayly. "Cousin Jack says he's never going to grow up!"'

But after lingering good-nights, the brother and sister, arm in arm, went into the house.

"Aren't they dandies!" exclaimed King, as they went upstairs.

"Gay!" agreed Marjorie. "Won't we have fun on the Fourth! Oh, I was so surprised to see them, weren't you, King?"

"Yep. The Craigs will like Cousin Jack, won't they?"

"Yes, indeed, and Hester, too. Good-night, King."

"Good-night, Mopsy Midget. Here!" and as a final compliment, King pulled off her hair-ribbon and handed it to her with a dancing-school bow.

Marjorie gave his hair an affectionate tweak, and with these good-natured attentions they parted.

CHAPTER VII

THE GLORIOUS FOURTH

The sun rose early on Fourth of July morning. For he knew many patriotic young hearts were beating with impatience for the great day to begin. Moreover, he rose clear and bright, and yet he didn't shine down too hotly for the comfort of those same young people. In fact, it was a perfect summer day.