A LETTER OF THANKS
"Mother," said Marjorie, the next day, "what is a bread-and-butter
letter?"
"Why, dearie, that's a sort of a humorous term for a polite note of
acknowledgment, such as one writes to a hostess after making a visit."
"Yes, that's what I thought. So I'm going to write one to Mrs. Geary."
"You may, if you like, my child; but, you know your father gave those
old people money for their care of you."
"Yes, I know; but that's different. And I think they'd appreciate a
letter."
"Very well, write one, if you like. Shall I help you?"
"No, thank you. King and I are going to do it together."
"What did you call it, Mops?" asked her brother, as she returned to the
library, where he sat, awaiting her.
"A bread-and-butter letter; Mother says it's all right."
"Well, but you had other things to eat besides bread and butter."
"Yes, but that's just the name of it. Now, how would you begin it,
King?"
"'Dear Mrs. Geary,' of course."
"Well, but I want it to be to him, too. He was real nice,--in his queer
way. And if he hadn't looked after me, where would I have been?"
"That's so. Well, say, 'Dear Mr. and Mrs. Geary, both.'"
So Marjorie began:
"'Dear Mr. and Mrs. Geary Both:
"'This is a bread-and-butter letter----'"
"I tell you, Mops, they won't like it. They're not up in social doings,
and they won't understand that bread and butter means all the things. I
think you ought to put 'em all in."
"Well, I will then. How's this?
"'--and a turnip letter, and a boiled-beef letter, and a
baked-apple letter, and a soft-boiled egg letter.'"
"That's better. It may not sound like the fashionable people write, but
it will please them. Now thank them for taking care of you."
"'I thank you a whole heap for being so good to me, and speaking
kindly to me in the railroad train, when I wasn't so very polite to
you.'"
"Weren't you, Mops?"
"No; I squeezed away from him, 'cause I thought he was rough and rude."
"Well, you can't tell him that."
"No; I'll say this:
"'I wasn't very sociable, Sir, because I have been taught not to
talk to strangers, but, of course, those rules, when made, did not
know I would be obliged to run away.'"
"You weren't _obliged_ to, Midget."
"Yes I was, King! I just simply _couldn't_ stay here if I didn't belong,
could I? Could you?"
"No, I s'pose not. I'd go off and go to work."
"Well, isn't that what I did?
"'But you were kind and good to me, Mr. Geary and Mrs. Geary Both,
and I am very much obliged. I guess I didn't work very well for
you, but I am out of practice, and I haven't much talent for
houseworking, anyway. _You_ seem to have, dear Mrs. Geary.'
"That's a sort of a compliment, King. Really, she isn't a very good
housekeeper."
"Oh, that's all right. It's like when people say you have musical
talent, and you know you play like the dickens."
"Yes, I do. Well, now I'll finish this, then we can go down to the
beach."
"'And so, dear Mr. and Mrs. Geary Both, I write to say I am much
obliged----'
"Oh, my gracious, King, I ought to tell them how it happened. About my
mistake, you know, thinking Mother was talking in earnest."
"Oh, don't tell 'em all that, you'll _never_ get it done. But I suppose
they are curious to know. Well, cut it short."
"'You see, dear Mr. and Mrs. Geary Both, I am not a findling, as I
supposed.'"
"That's not findling, Midget,--you mean foundling."
"I don't think so. And, anyway, they mean just the same,--I'm going to
leave it.
"'I find I have quite a large family, with a nice father and
mother, some sisters and a brother. You saw my father. Also, I have
lovely cousins and four grand-parents and an uncle. So you see I am
well supplied with this world's goods. So now, good-by, dear Mr.
and Mrs. Geary Both, and with further thanks and obliges, I am,
"'Your friend,
"'MARJORIE MAYNARD.
"'P.S. The Jessica Brown was a made-up name.'
"Do you think that's all right, King?"
"Yep, it's fine! Seal her up, and write the address and leave it on the
hall table, and come on."
And so the "bread-and-butter" letter went to Mr. and Mrs. Geary both,
and was kept and treasured by them as one of their choicest possessions.
"I knew she was a little lady by the way she pretended not to notice our
poor things," said old Zeb.
"I knew by her petticoats," said his wife.
* * * * *
And so the episode of Marjorie's runaway passed into history. Mrs.
Maynard, at first, wanted to give up her part in the play of "The
Stepmother," but she was urged by all to retain it, and so she did. As
Mr. Maynard said, it was the merest coincidence that Marjorie overheard
the words without knowing why they were spoken, and there was no
possibility of such a thing ever happening again. So Mrs. Maynard kept
her part in the pretty little comedy, but she never repeated those
sentences that had so appalled poor Marjorie, without a thrill of sorrow
for the child and a thrill of gladness for her quick and safe
restoration to them.
And the days hurried on, bringing Marjorie's birthday nearer and nearer.
On the fifteenth of July she would be thirteen years old.
"You see," said Cousin Jack, who was, as usual, Director General of the
celebration, "you see, Mehitabel, thirteen is said to be an unlucky
number."
"And must I be unlucky all the year?" asked Marjorie, in dismay.
"On the contrary, my child. We will eradicate the unluck from the
number,--we will cut the claws of the tiger,--and draw the fangs of the
serpent. In other words, we shall so override and overrule that foolish
superstition about thirteen being unlucky that we shall prove the
contrary."
"Hooray for you, Cousin Jack! I'm lucky to have you around for this
particular birthday, I think."
"You're always lucky, Mehitabel, and you always will be. You see, this
business they call Luck is largely a matter of our own will-power and
determination. Now, I propose to consider thirteen a lucky number, and
before your birthday is over, you'll agree with me, I know."
"I 'spect I shall, Cousin Jack. And I'm much obliged to you."
"That's right, Mehitabel. Always be grateful to your elders. They do a
lot for you."
"You needn't laugh, Cousin Jack. You're awful good to me."
"Good to myself, you mean. Not having any olive-branches of my own, I
have to play with my neighbors'. As I understand it, Mehitabel, you're
to have a party on this birthday of yours."
"Yes, sir-ee, sir! Mother says I can invite as many as I like. You know
there are lots of girls and boys down here that I know, but I don't know
them as well as I do the Craigs and Hester. But at a party, I'll ask
them all."
"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!"
"Can I be Queen?" demanded Hester, a little mollified; "can I, really?"
"Why, yes, if the boys agree. They have as much say as I do."
"They don't either! You have all the say! You always do! Now, promise
you'll make the boys let me be Queen, or,--or I won't play!"
Hester ended her threat rather lamely, as she couldn't think of any dire
punishment which she felt sure she could carry out.
"I promise," said Marjorie, who really felt it was just that Hester
should be Queen for a time.
"All right, then," and Hester's stormy face cleared a little. "See that
you keep your promise."
"I always keep my promises," said Marjorie, with dignity; "and I'll tell
you what I think of _you_, Hester Corey! I think you ought to be
Queen,--it _isn't_ fair for me to be it all the time. But I think you
might have asked me in a nicer way, and not call names, and smash things
all about! There, that's what I think!" and Marjorie glared at her in
righteous indignation.
"Maybe I ought," said Hester, suddenly becoming humble, as is the way of
hot-tempered people after gaining their point. "I've got an awful
temper, Marjorie, but I can't help it!"
"You _can_ help it, Hester; you don't try."
"Oh, it's all very well for you to talk! You never have anything to
bother you! Nothing goes wrong, and everybody spoils you! Why should
_you_ have a bad temper?"
"Now, Hester, don't be silly! You have just as good a home and just as
kind friends as I have."
"No, I haven't! Nobody likes me. And everybody likes you. Why, the Craig
boys think you're made of gold!"
Marjorie laughed. "Well, Hester, it's _your_ own fault if they don't
think you are, too. But how can they, when you fly into these rages and
tear everything to pieces?"
"Well, they make me so mad, I have to! Now, I'm going home, and I'm
going to stay there till you do as you promised, and get the boys to let
me be Queen."
"Well, I'll try----" began Marjorie, but Hester had flung the torn gilt
crown on the ground, and stalked away toward home. Midget picked up the
crown and tried to straighten it out, but it was battered past repair.
"I'll make a new one," she thought, "and I'll try to make the boys agree
to having Hester for Queen. But I don't believe Tom will. I know it's
selfish for me to be Queen all the time, and I don't want to be
selfish."
Seeing Hester go away, Tom came back, and reached Sand Court just as
Midget was about to leave.
"Hello, Queen Sandy!" he called out; "wait a minute. I saw that spitfire
going away, so I came back. Now, look here, Mopsy Maynard, don't you let
that old crosspatch be Queen!"
"I can't, unless we all elect her," returned Midget, smiling at Tom;
"but I wish you would agree to do that. It isn't fair, Tom, for me to
be Queen all the time."
"Why isn't it? It's your Club! You got it up, and Hester came and poked
herself in where she wasn't wanted."
"Well, we took her in, and now we ought to be kind to her."
"Kind to such an old Meany as she is!"
"Don't call her names, Tom. I don't believe she can help flying into a
temper, and then, when she gets mad, she doesn't care what she says."
"I should think she didn't! Well, make her Queen if you want to, but if
you do, you can get somebody else to take my place."
"Oh, Tom, don't act like that," and Marjorie looked at him, with
pleading eyes.
"Yes, I _will act_ like that! Just exactly like that! I won't belong to
any Court that Hester Corey is queen of!"
Marjorie sighed. What _could_ she do with this intractable boy? And, she
almost knew that King would feel the same way. Perhaps, if she could win
Tom over to her way of thinking, King might be more easily influenced.
"Tom," she began, "don't you like me?"
"Yes, I do. You're the squarest girl I ever knew."
"Then, don't you think you might do this much for me?"
"What much?"
"Why, just let Hester be Queen for a while."
"No, I don't. That wouldn't be any favor to you."
"Yes, it would. If I ask you, and you refuse, I'll think you're real
unkind. And yet you say you like me!"
Marjorie had struck a right chord in the boy's heart. He didn't want
Hester for Queen, but still less did he want to refuse Midget her
earnest request.
"Oh, pshaw!" he said, digging his toe in the sand; "if you put it that
way, I'll _have_ to say yes. Don't put it that way, Midget."
"Yes, I _will_ put it that way! And if you're my friend, you'll say yes,
yourself, and then you'll help me to make the other boys say yes. Will
you?"
"Yes, I s'pose so," said Tom, looking a little dubious.