Marjorie at Seacote | Page 9

he cried. "Look at that!"
"Look at what?" said Tom, who was absorbed in the grand march.
But he looked, and they all looked, and five angry exclamations sounded as they saw only the ruins of the beloved Sandringham Palace.
Somebody had utterly demolished it. The low walls were broken and scattered, the sand tables and chairs were torn down, and the throne was entirely upset.
"Who did this?" roared Tom.
But as nobody knew the answer, there was no reply.
"It couldn't have been any of your servants, could it?" asked King of the Craigs. "I know it wasn't any of ours."
"No; it wasn't ours, either," said Tom. "Could it have been your little sister?"
"Mercy, no!" cried Marjorie. "Rosy Posy isn't that sort of a child. Oh, I do think it's awful!" and forgetting her royal dignity, Queen Sandy began to cry.
"Why, Mops," said King, kindly; "brace up, old girl. Don't cry."
"I'm not a cry baby," said Midget, smiling through her tears. "I'm just crying 'cause I'm so mad! I'm mad clear through! How could anybody be so ugly?"
"I'm mad, too," declared Tom, slowly, "but I know who did it, and it's partly my fault, I s'pose."
"Your fault!" exclaimed Midget. "Why, Tom, how can it be?"
"Well, you see it was this way. Yesterday afternoon Mrs. Corey came to call on my mother, and she brought Hester with her."
"That red-headed girl?"
"Yes; and she has a temper to match her hair! Mother made me talk to her, and, as I didn't know what else to talk about, I told her about our Sand Club, and about the Court to-day and everything. And she wanted to belong to the club, and I told her she couldn't, because it was just the Maynards and the Craigs. And she was madder'n hops, and she coaxed me, and I still said no, and then she said she'd get even with us somehow."
"But, Tom," said King, "we don't know that girl to speak to. We hardly know her by sight."
"But we do. We knew her when we were here last summer, but, you see, this year we've had you two to play with, so we've sort of neglected her,--and she doesn't like it."
"But that's no reason she should spoil our palace," and Marjorie looked sadly at the scene of ruin and destruction.
"No; and of course I'm not sure that she did do it. But she said she'd do something to get even with you."
"With me? Why, she doesn't know me at all."
"That's what she's mad about. She says you're stuck up, and you put on airs and never look at her."
"Why, how silly! I don't know her, but somehow, from her looks, I know I shouldn't like her."
"No, you wouldn't, Marjorie. She's selfish, and she's ill-tempered. She flies into a rage at any little thing, and,--well, she isn't a bit like you Maynards."
"No! and I'm glad of it! I wouldn't want to be like such a stuck-up thing!"
These last words were spoken by a strange voice, and Marjorie looked round quickly to see a shock of red hair surmounting a very angry little face just appearing from behind the small hill, beneath whose overhanging shadow they had built their palace.
"Why, Hester Corey!" shouted Tom. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to see how you like your old sand-house!" she jeered, mockingly, and making faces at Marjorie between her words. Marjorie was utterly astonished. It was her first experience with a child of this type, and she didn't know just how to take her.
The newcomer was a little termagant. Her big blue eyes seemed to flash with anger, and as she danced about, shaking her fist at Marjorie and pointing her forefinger at her, she cried, tauntingly, "Stuck up! Proudy!"
Marjorie grew indignant. She had done nothing knowingly to provoke this wrath, so she faced the visitor squarely, and glared back at her.
"I'd rather be stuck up than to be such a spiteful thing as you are!" she declared. "Did you tear down this palace that we took such trouble to build?"
"Yes, I did!" said Hester. "And if you build it again, I'll tear it down again,--so, there, now!"
"You'll do no such thing!" shouted Tom.
"Huh, Smarty! What have you got to say about it?"
The crazy little Hester flew at Tom and pounded him vigorously on the back.
"I hate you!" she cried. "I hate you!"
As a matter of fact, her little fists couldn't hurt the big, sturdy boy, but her intense anger made him angry too.
"You, Hester Corey!" he cried. "You leave me alone!"
King stood a little apart, with his hands in his pockets, looking at the combatants.
"Say, we've had about enough of this," he said, speaking quietly, and without excitement. "We Maynards are not accustomed to this sort of thing. We squabble sometimes, but we never get really angry."
"Goody-goody boy!" said Hester, sneeringly, and