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 queen."
"Well, let's all have sandy names," suggested Tom. "Marjorie can be
Queen Sandy. And we'll call our court Sandringham Palace. You know
there is one, really."
"You can be the Grand Sandjandrum!" said King, laughing.
"No, you be that," said Tom, unselfishly.
"No, sir; _you've_ got to. I'll be a sand piper, and play the court
anthems."
"All right," said Marjorie, "and Harry can be a sand crab, for he just
scuttles through the sand all the time. What'll Dick be?"
King looked at Dick. "We'll call him Sandow," he suggested, and they all
laughed, for Dick was a frail little chap, without much muscular
strength. But the name stuck to him, and they always called him Sandow
thereafter.
"I wish we could make our palace where it would stay made," said
Marjorie. "We don't want to make a new one every day."
"That's so," said Tom. "If we only could find a secret haunt."
"I know a kind of a one," said Dick; "'way back in our yard, near where
it joins yours, is a deepy kind of a place, and it's quite sandy."
"Just the thing!" cried Marjorie. "I know that place. Come on!"
She was off like a deer, and the rest followed. A few moments' scamper
brought them to the place, and all declared it was just the very spot
for a palace.
"I'd like beach sand better, though," said Marjorie.
"We'll bring all you want," declared Tom. "We'll take a wheelbarrow, and
bring heaps up from the beach."
The Sand Club worked for days getting their palace in order. The two big
boys wheeled many loads of sand up from the beach, and Marjorie and the
two other boys arranged it in shape.
Dick was clever at building, and he planned a number of fine effects. Of
course, their palace had no roof or walls, but the apartments were
partitioned off with low walls of sand, and there were sand sofas and
chairs, and a gorgeous throne.
The throne was a heap of sand, surmounted by a legless armchair, found
in the Craigs' attic, and at court meetings draped with pink cheesecloth
and garlands of flowers. The whole palace was really a "secret haunt,"
for a slight rise of ground screened it from view on two sides and trees
shaded the other side.
The parents of both families were pleased with the whole scheme, for it
kept the children occupied, and they could always be found at a moment's
notice.
Sand tables were built, and on them were bits of old dishes and broken
vases, all of which were desirable because they could stay out in the
rain and not be harmed. Moreover, they were handy in case of a feast. At
last preparations were complete and they decided to open the court next
day.
"We must have a flag," said Marjorie. "I'll make it. The court colors
are red and yellow, and our emblem will be,--what shall our emblem be?"
"A pail of sand," suggested Tom.
"Yes; I can cut out a pail of red flannel, and sew it on to a yellow
flag. I'll make that this afternoon, and we'll hold court to-morrow
morning at ten o'clock. We must all wear some red and yellow. Sashes
will do for you boys, and I'll have,--well, I'll fix up a rig of some
kind."
Marjorie was a diligent little worker when she chose to be, and that
afternoon she made a very creditable flag, showing a pail, red; on a
field, yellow. She made also sashes for them all, of red and yellow
cheesecloth, and she made herself a court train of the same material,
which trailed grandly from her shoulders.
Next morning the Sand Club assembled on the Maynards' veranda, to march
to Sandringham Palace.
Mrs. Craig had helped out the costumes of her royal children, and the
Grand Sandjandrum was gorgeous in a voluminous yellow turban, with a red
cockade sticking up on one side.
Sandow and the Sand Crab had soldier hats made of red and yellow paper,
and big sailor collars of the same colors.
The Sand Piper wore his sash jauntily with a huge shoulder knot, and he,
too, had a cockaded headgear.
Marjorie, as Queen Sandy, wore her trailing court robe and a crown of
yellow paper with red stars on it. She had a sceptre, and Sandow carried
the flag.
The Sand Piper marched ahead, playing on a tuneful instrument known as a
kazoo. Next came the Grand Sandjandrum, then the Queen, then the Sand
Crab, and finally, Sandow with the flag.
Slowly and with great dignity the procession filed out toward the
palace. King was playing the Star Spangled Banner, or thought he was. It
sounded almost as much like Hail Columbia,--but it didn't really matter,
and they're both difficult tunes, anyway.
Blithely they stepped along, and prepared to enter the palace with a
flourish of trumpets, as it were, when King's music stopped suddenly.
"Great Golliwogs!" 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 making one of her worst
faces at him. For some reason this performance struck King as funny.
"Do it again," he said. "How do you ever squink up your nose like that!
Bet you can't do it three times in succession."
The audacious Hester tried it, and the result was so ludicrous they all
laughed.
"Now look here," went on King, "we're not acquainted with you, but we
know you're Hester Corey. We know you spoiled our Sand Palace, just out
of angry spite. Now, Hester Corey, you've got to be punished for that.
We're peaceable people ourselves, but we're just, also. We were about to
have a nice celebration, but you've put an end to that before it began.
So, instead, we're going to have a trial. You're the prisoner, and
you've pleaded guilty,--at least, you've confessed your crime. Queen
Sandy, get into that throne,--never mind if it is upset,--set it up
again. Grand Sandjandrum, take your place on that mussed up sand heap.
You two other chaps,--stand one each side of the prisoner as sentinels.
I'll conduct this case, and Queen Sandy will pronounce the sentence.
It's us Maynards that Hester Corey seems to have a grudge against, so
it's up to us Maynards to take charge of the case. Prisoner, stand on
that board there."
"I won't do it!" snapped Hester, and the red locks shook vigorously.
"You will do it," said King, quietly, and for some reason or other
Hester quailed before his glance, and then meekly stood where he told
her to.
"Have you anything to say for yourself?" King went on. "Any excuse to
offer for such a mean, hateful piece of work?"
Hester sulked a minute, then she said:
"Yes, I was mad at you, because you all have such good times, and
wouldn't let me in them."
"What do you mean by that? You never asked to come in."
"I did. I asked Tom Craig yesterday, and he wouldn't ask you."
"Then why are you mad at us?"
"Because you're so proud and exclusive. You think yourselves so great;
you think nobody's as good as you are!"
"That isn't true, Hester," said King, quite gently; "and even if it
were, are you proving yourself better than we are by cutting up this
mean, babyish trick? If you want us to like you, why not make yourself
likeable, instead of horrid and hateful?"
This was a new idea to Hester, and she stared at King as if greatly
interested.
"That's right," he went on. "If people want people to like them, they
must be likeable. They must be obliging and kind and pleasant, and not
small and spiteful."
"You haven't been very nice to me," muttered Hester.
"We haven't had a chance. And before we get a chance you upset
everything by making us dislike you! What kind of common sense is that?"
"Maybe you could forgive me," suggested Hester, hopefully.
"Maybe we could, later on. But we're for fair play, and you treated us
unfairly. So now, you've got to be punished. Queen Sandy, Grand
Sandjandrum, which of you can suggest proper punishment for this
prisoner of ours?"
Tom thought for a moment, then he said:
"Seems 's if she ought to put this palace back in order, just as it was
when she found it,--but that's too hard work for a girl."
"I'll help her," said Harry, earnestly. "I'm sorry for her."
"Sorry for her!" cried Tom, with blazing eyes. "_Sorry_ for the girl
that spoiled our palace!"
"Well, you see," went on Harry, "she's sorry herself now."