Marjorie at Seacote

"All right. Now, this is going to be a Good-Luck Party, to counteract that foolish thirteen notion. You don't need to know all about the details. Your mother and I will plan it all, and you can just be the lucky little hostess."

So Marjorie was not admitted to the long confabs between her mother and Cousin Jack. She didn't mind, for she knew perfectly well that delightful plans were being made for the party, and they would all be carried out. But there was much speculation in Sand Court as to what the fun would be.

"I know it will be lovely," said Hester, with a sigh. "You are the luckiest girl I ever saw, Marjorie. You always have all the good times."

"Why, Hester, don't you have good times, too?"

"Not like you do. Your mother and father, and those Bryants just do things for you all the time. I don't think it's fair!"

"Well, your mother does things for you,—all mothers do," said Tom Craig.

"Not as much as Marjorie's. My mother said so. She said she never saw anything like the way Marjorie Maynard is petted. And it makes her stuck up and spoiled!"

"Did your mother say my sister was stuck-up and spoiled?" demanded King, flaring up instantly.

"Well,—she didn't say just that,—but she is, all the same!" And Hester scowled crossly at Midget.

"Why, Hester Corey, I am not!" declared Marjorie. "What do I do that's stuck-up?"

"Oh, you think yourself so smart,—and you always want to boss everything."

"Maybe I am too bossy," said Marjorie, ruefully, for she knew that she loved to choose and direct their games.

"Yes, you are! and I'm not going to stand it!"

"All right, Hester Corey, you can get out of this club, then," said Tom, glaring at her angrily; "Marjorie Maynard is Queen, anyway, and if she hasn't got a right to boss, who has?"

"Well, she's been Queen long enough. Somebody else ought to have a chance."

"Huh!" spoke up Dick; "a nice queen you'd make, wouldn't you? I s'pose that's what you want! You're a bad girl, Hester Corey!"

"I am not, neither!"

"You are, too!"

"Jiminy Crickets!" exclaimed King; "can't this Club get along without scrapping? If not, the Club'd better break up. I'm ashamed of you, Dick, to hear you talk like that!"

"Hester began it," said Dick, sullenly.

"Oh, yes; blame it all on Hester!" cried that angry maiden, herself; "blame everything on Hester, and nothing on Marjorie. Dear, sweet, angel Marjorie!"

"Now, Hester Corey, you stop talking about my sister like that, or I'll get mad," stormed King. "She's Queen of this Club, and she's got a right to boss. And you needn't get mad about it, either."

"You can be Queen, if you want to, Hester," said Midget, slowly. "I guess I am a pig to be Queen all the time."

"No, you're not!" shouted Tom. "If Hester's Queen, I resign myself from this Club! So there, now!"

"Go on, and resign!" said Hester; "nobody cares. I'm going to be Queen, Marjorie said I could. Give me your crown, Marjorie."

Midget didn't want to give up her crown a bit, but she had a strong sense of justice, and it did seem that Hester ought to have her turn at being Queen. So she began to lift the crown from her head, when King interposed:

"Don't you do it, Midget! We can't change Queens in a minute, like that! If we do change, it's got to be by election and nomination and things like that."

"It isn't!" screamed Hester; "I won't have it so! I'm going to be Queen!"

She fairly snatched the crown from Marjorie's head, and whisked it onto her own head.

As it had been made to fit Midget's thick mop of curls, it was too big for Hester, and came down over her ears, and well over her eyes.

"Ho! ho!" jeered Dick; "a nice Queen you look! Ho! ho!"

But by this time Hester was in one of her regular tantrums.

"I will be Queen!" she shrieked; "I will, I tell you!"

"Come on, Mops, let's go home," said King, quietly.

The Maynard children were unaccustomed to outbursts of temper, and King didn't know exactly what to say to the little termagant.

"All right, we'll go home, too," said Tom; "come on, boys!"

They all started off, leaving Hester in solitary possession of Sand Court.

The child, when in one of her rages, had an ungovernable temper, and, left alone, she vented it by smashing everything she could. She upset the throne, tore down the decorations, and flew around like a wildcat.

Marjorie, who had turned to look at her, said:

"You go on, King; I'm going back to speak to Hester."

"I'm afraid she'll hurt you," objected King.

"No, she won't; I'll be kind to her."

"All right, Midge; a soft answer turneth away rats, but I don't know about wildcats!"

"Well, you go on." And Marjorie turned, and went back to Sand Court.

"Say, Hester," she began a little timidly.

"Go away from here, Stuck-up! Spoiled child! I don't want to see you!"

As a matter of fact, Hester presented a funny sight. She was a plain child, and her shock of red hair was straight and untractable. Her scowling face was flushed with anger, and the gold paper crown was pushed down over one ear in ridiculous fashion.

Marjorie couldn't help laughing, which, naturally, only irritated Hester the more.

"Yes, giggle!" she cried; "old Smarty-Cat! old Proudy!"

"Oh, Hester, don't!" said Midget, bursting into tears. "How can you be so cross to me? I don't mean to be stuck-up and proud, and I don't think I am. You can be Queen if you want to, and we'll have the election thing all right. Please don't be so mean to me!"