Marjorie at Seacote | Page 7

the daintiest dish served at a table.
"Ow!" cried Marjorie, flinging down her potato, and sticking her finger in her mouth. "Ow! that old thing popped open, and burned me awfully!"
"Too bad, Mops!" said King, with genuine sympathy, but the Craig boys were more solicitous.
"Oh, oh! I'm so sorry," cried Tom. "Does it hurt terribly?"
"Yes, it does," said Midget, who was not in the habit of complaining when she got hurt, but who was really suffering from the sudden burn.
"Let me tie it up," said Dick, shyly.
"Yes, do," said Tom. "Dick is our good boy. He always helps everybody else."
"But what can we tie it up with?" said Marjorie. "My handkerchief is all black from wiping off that potato."
"I,--I've got a clean one," and Dick, blushing with embarrassment, took a neatly folded white square from his pocket.
"Would you look at that!" said Tom. "I declare Dicky always has the right thing at the right time! Good for you, boy! Fix her up."
Quite deftly Dick wrapped the handkerchief round Marjorie's finger, and secured it with a bit of string from another pocket.
"You ought to have something on it," he said, gravely. "Kerosene is good, but as we haven't any, it will help it just to keep the air away from it, till you go home."
"Goodness!" exclaimed Midget. "You talk like a doctor."
"I'm going to be a doctor when I grow up," said Dick.
"He is," volunteered Harry; "he cured the cat's broken leg, and he mended a bird's wing once."
"Yes, I did," admitted Dick, modestly blushing at his achievements. "Are you going right home because of your finger?"
"No, indeed! We never stop for hurts and things, unless they're bad enough for us to go to bed. Give me another potato, and you open it for me, won't you, Dick?"
"Yep," and Marjorie was immediately supplied with the best of the potatoes and apples, carefully prepared for her use.
"Aren't there any other girls in Seacote?" she inquired.
"There's Hester Corey," answered Tom; "but we don't know her very well. She isn't nice, like you are. And I don't know of any others, though there may be some. Most of the people in the cottages haven't any children,--or else they're grown up,--big girls and young ladies. And there's a few little babies, but not many of our age. So that's why we're so glad you came."
"And that's why you stole our wood!"
"Yes, truly. We thought that'd be a good way to test your temper."
"It was a risky way," said King, thinking it over.
"Oh, I don't know. I knew, if you were the right sort, you'd take it all right; and if you weren't the right sort, we didn't care how you took it."
"That's so," agreed Marjorie.

CHAPTER III
THE SAND CLUB
Life at Seacote soon settled down to its groove, and it was a very pleasant groove. There was always plenty of fun to be had. Bathing every day in the crashing breakers, digging in the sand, building beach fires, talking to the old fishermen, were all delightful pursuits. And then there were long motor rides inland, basket picnics in pine groves, and excursions to nearby watering-places.
The Craig boys turned out to be jolly playfellows, and they and the Maynards became inseparable chums. Marjorie often wished one of them had been a girl, but at the same time, she enjoyed her unique position of being the only girl in the crowd. The boys deferred to her as to a princess, and she ruled them absolutely.
Of course the senior Craigs and Maynards became good friends also, and the two ladies especially spent many pleasant hours together.
Baby Rosamond rarely played with the older children, as she was too little to join in their vigorous games, often original with themselves, and decidedly energetic. The beach was their favorite playground. They never tired of digging in the sand, and they had a multitude of spades and shovels and hoes for their various sand performances. Some days they built a fort, other days a castle or a pleasure ground. Their sand-works were extensive and elaborate, and it often seemed a pity that the tide or the wind should destroy them over night.
"I say, let's us be a Sand Club," said Tom one day. "We're always playing in the sand, you know."
"All right," said Marjorie, instantly seeing delightful possibilities. "We'll call ourselves Sand Crabs, for we're always scrambling through the sand."
"And we're jolly as sandboys!" said King. "I don't know what sandboys really are, but they're always jolly, and so are we."
"I'd like something more gay and festive," Marjorie put in; "I mean like Court Life, or something where we could dress up, and pretend things."
"I know what you mean," said Dick, grasping her idea. "Let's have Sand Court, and build a court and a throne, and we'll all be royal people and Marjorie can be