Marjorie at Seacote Read online

  CHAPTER II

  TOM, DICK, AND HARRY

  "Jumping Grasshoppers! What a dandy house!"

  The Maynards' motor swung into the driveway of a large and pleasantlooking place, whose lawn showed some sand spots here and there, andwhose trees were tall pines, but whose whole effect was delightfullybreezy and seashorey.

  "Oh, grandiferous!" cried Marjorie, echoing her brother's enthusiastictones, and standing up in the car, better to see their new home.

  Seacote, the place chosen by Mr. Maynard for his family's summering, wason the southern shore of Long Island, not very far from Rockaway Beach.It was a sort of park or reservation in which building was under certainrestrictions, and so it was made up of pleasant homes filled withpleasant people.

  Fortunately, Mr. Maynard had been able to rent the bungalow he wanted,and it was this picturesque domicile that so roused King's admiration.

  The house was long and low, and surrounded by verandas, some of whichwere screened by vines, and others shaded by striped awnings.

  But what most delighted the children was the fact that the ocean rolledits crested breakers up to their very door. Not literally to the door,for the road ran between the sea and the house, and a boardwalk wasbetween the road and the sea. But not fifty feet from their frontwindows the shining waves were even now dashing madly toward them as ifin tumultuous welcome.

  The servants were already installed, and the open doors seemed to invitethe family to come in and make themselves at home.

  "Let's go straight bang through the whole house," said King, "and thenoutdoors afterward."

  "All right," agreed Marjorie, and in their usual impetuous fashion, thetwo raced through the house from attic to cellar, though there reallywasn't any attic, except a sort of low-ceiled loft. However, theyclimbed up into this, and then down through the various bedrooms on thesecond floor, and back to the first floor, which contained the largeliving-room, a spacious hall, and the dining-room and kitchen.

  "It's all right," said King, nodding his head in approval. "Now outside,Midget."

  Outside they flew, and took stock of their surroundings. Almost an acreof ground was theirs, and though as yet empty of special interest, Kingcould see its possibilities.

  "Room for a tennis court," he said; "then I guess we'll have a bigswing, and a hammock, and a tent, and----"

  "And a merry-go-round," supplemented Mr. Maynard, overhearing King'splans.

  "No, not that, Father," said Marjorie, "but we _can_ have swings andthings, can't we?"

  "I 'spect so, Mopsy. But with the ocean and the beach, I doubt if you'llstay in this yard much."

  "Oh, that's so; I forgot the ocean! Come on, Father, let's go and lookat it."

  So the three went down to the beach, and Marjorie, who hadn't been tothe seashore since she was a small child, plumped herself down on thesand, and just gazed out at the tumbling waves.

  "I don't care for the swings and things," she said. "I just want to stayhere all the time, and dig and dig and dig."

  As she spoke she was digging her heels into the fine white sand, andpoking her hands in, and burying her arms up to her dimpled elbows.

  "Oh, Father, isn't it gee-lorious! Sit down, won't you, and let us buryyou in sand, all but your nose!"

  "Not now," said Mr. Maynard, laughing. "Some day you may, when I'm in abathing suit. But I don't care for pockets full of sand. Now, I'm goingback to home and Mother. You two may stay down here till luncheon timeif you like."

  Mr. Maynard went back to the house, and King and Marjorie continuedtheir explorations. The beach was flat and smooth, and its white sandwas full of shells, and here and there a few bits of seaweed, andfarther on some driftwood, and in the distance a pier, built out farinto the ocean.

  "Did you ever _see_ such a place?" cried Marjorie, in sheer delight.

  "Well, I was at the seashore last year," said King, "while you were atGrandma's."

  "But it wasn't as nice as this, was it? Say it wasn't!"

  "No; the sand was browner. This is the nicest sand I ever saw. Say,Mops, let's build a fire."

  "What for? It isn't cold."

  "No, but you always build fires on the beach. It's lots of fun. Andwe'll roast potatoes in it."

  "All right. How do we begin?"

  "Well, we gather a lot of wood first. Come on."

  Marjorie came on, and they worked with a will, gathering armfuls ofwood and piling it up near the spot they had selected for their fire.

  "That's enough," said Marjorie, for her arms ached as she laid down herlast contribution to their collection.

  "You'll find it isn't much when it gets to burning. But never mind, itwill make a start. I'll skin up to the house and get matches andpotatoes."

  "I'll go with you, 'cause I think we'd better ask Father about makingthis fire. It might do some harm."

  "Fiddlesticks! We made a fire 'most every day last summer."

  And, owing to King's knowledge and experience regarding beach fires, hisfather told him he might build one, and to be properly careful about notsetting fire to themselves.

  Then they procured potatoes and apples from the kitchen, and raced backto the beach.

  "Why, where's our wood?" cried Marjorie.

  Not a stick or a chip remained of their carefully gathered wood pile.

  "Some one has stolen it!" said King.

  "No, there's nobody around, except those people over there, and they'regrown-ups. It must have been washed away by a wave."

  "Pooh, the waves aren't coming up near as far as this."

  "Well, there might have been a big one."

  "No, it wasn't a wave. That wood was stolen, Mops!"

  "But who could have done it? Those grown-up people wouldn't. You can seefrom their looks they wouldn't. They're reading aloud. And in the otherdirection, there are only some fishermen,--they wouldn't take it."

  "Well, somebody did. Look, here are lots of footprints, and I don'tbelieve they're all ours."

  Sure enough, on the smooth white sand they could see many footprints,imprinted all over each other, as if scurrying feet had trodden allaround their precious wood pile.

  "Oh, King, you're just like a detective!" cried Marjorie, in admiration."But it's so! These aren't our footprints!"

  She fitted her spring-heeled tan shoes into the prints, and proved atonce that they were not hers. Nor did King's shoes fit exactly, thoughthey came nearer to it than Marjorie's.

  "Yes, sir; some fellows came along and stole that wood. Here are two orthree quite different prints."

  "Well, where do they lead to?" said practical Marjorie.

  "That's so. Let's trace them and get the wood back."

  But after leading away from them for a short distance the footprintsbecame fainter, and in a softer bit of sand disappeared altogether.

  "Pshaw!" said King. "I don't so much care about the wood, but I hate tolose the trail like this. Let's hunt, Mopsy."

  "All right, but first, let's bury these apples and potatoes, or they'llbe stolen, too."

  "Good idea!" And they buried their treasures in the nice, clean sand,and marked the place with an inconspicuous stick.

  Then they set out to hunt their lost wood. The beach, though flat andshelving at the water's edge, rose in a low bluff farther back, and thisoffered among its irregular projections many good hiding-places fortheir quarry.

  And, sure enough, after some searching, they came suddenly upon threeboys who sat, shaking with laughter, upon a pile of wood.

  The two Maynards glared at them rather angrily, upon which the threeagain went off in peals of laughter.

  "That's our wood!" began King, aggressively.

  "Sure it is!" returned the biggest boy, still chuckling.

  "What did you bring it over here for?"

  "Just for fun!"

  "H'm, just for fun! And do you think it would be fun to carry it backagain?"

  "Yep; just's lieve as not. Come on, kids!" And that remarkable boy beganto pick up the sticks.
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  "Oh, hold on," said King. "If you're so willing, you needn't do it! Whoare you, anyway?"

  "Well," said the biggest boy, suddenly straightening himself up andbowing politely to Marjorie, "we're your neighbors. We live in thatgreen house next to yours. And we're named Tom, Dick, and Harry. Yes, Iknow you think those names sound funny, but they're ours all the same.Thomas, Richard, and Henry Craig,--at your service! I'm Tom. This isDick, and this is Harry."

  He whacked his brothers on the shoulder as he named them, and theyducked forward in polite, if awkward salutation.

  "And did you really take our wood?" said Marjorie, with an accusingglance, as if surprised that such pleasant-spoken boys could do such athing.

  "Yes, we did. We wanted to see what sort of stuff you were made of. Youknow Seacote people are sort of like one big family, and we wanted toknow how you'd behave about the wood. You've been fine, and now we'llcart it back where we found it. If you had got mad about it, we wouldn'ttouch a stick to take it back,--would we, fellows?"

  "Nope," said the other two, and the Maynards could see at once that Tomwas the captain and ringleader of the trio.

  "Well," said King, judicially, "if you hadn't been the sort you are, I_should_ have got mad. But I guess you're all right, and so you _may_take it back. But we don't help you do it,--see? I'm Kingdon Maynard,and this is my sister Marjorie. You fellows took our wood, and nowyou're going to return it. Is that right?"

  "Right-o!" said Tom. "Come on, fellows."

  The three boys flew at it, and King and Midget sat on the sand andwatched them till the wood was restored to its original position.

  "All right," said King; "you boys'll do. Now, come on and roast potatoeswith us."

  Thus, all demands of honor having been complied with, the five proceededto become friends. The boys built the fire, and gallantly let Marjoriehave the fun of putting the potatoes and apples in place.

  The Craig boys had nice instincts, and while they were ratherrough-and-tumble among themselves, they treated King more decorously,and seemed to consider Marjorie as a being of a higher order, made toreceive not only respect, but reverent homage.

  "You see, we never had a sister," said Tom; "and we're a little bitscared of girls."

  "Well, I have three," said King, "so you see I haven't such deep awe ofthem. But Midget won't hurt you, so don't be _too_ scared of her."

  Marjorie smiled in most friendly fashion, for she liked these boys, andespecially Tom.

  "How old are you?" she asked him, in her frank, pleasant way.

  "I'm fourteen," replied Tom, "and the other kids are twelve and ten."

  "King's fourteen,--'most fifteen," said Midget; "and I'll be thirteen inJuly. So we're all in the same years. I wish our Kitty was here. She'snearly eleven, but she isn't any bigger than Harry."

  Harry smiled shyly, and poked at the potatoes with a stick, not knowingquite what to say.

  "You see," King explained, "Midget is the best sort of a girl there is.She's girly, all right, and yet she's as good as a boy at cutting upjinks or doing any old kind of stunts."

  The three Craigs looked at Marjorie in speechless admiration.

  "I never knew that kind," said Tom, thoughtfully. "You see, we go to aboys' school, and we haven't any girl cousins, or anything; and the onlygirls I ever see are at dancing class, or in a summer hotel, and thenthey're all frilled up, and sort of airy."

  "I love to play with boys," said Marjorie, frankly, "and I guess we'llhave a lot of fun this summer."

  "I guess we _will_! Are you going to stay all summer?"

  "Yes, till September, when school begins."

  "So are we. Isn't it funny we live next door to each other?"

  "Awful funny," agreed Marjorie, pulling a very black potato out of thered-hot embers. "This is done," she went on, "and I'm going to eat it."

  "So say we all of us," cried King. "One done,--all done! Helpyourselves, boys!"

  So they all pulled out the black, sooty potatoes, with more delightedanticipations than would have been roused by the daintiest dish servedat a table.

  "Ow!" cried Marjorie, flinging down her potato, and sticking her fingerin her mouth. "Ow! that old thing _popped_ open, and burned me awfully!"

  "Too bad, Mops!" said King, with genuine sympathy, but the Craig boyswere 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 complainingwhen 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 everybodyelse."

  "But what can we tie it up with?" said Marjorie. "My handkerchief is allblack from wiping off that potato."

  "I,--I've got a clean one," and Dick, blushing with embarrassment, tooka neatly folded white square from his pocket.

  "Would you look at that!" said Tom. "I declare Dicky always has theright thing at the right time! Good for you, boy! Fix her up."

  Quite deftly Dick wrapped the handkerchief round Marjorie's finger, andsecured it with a bit of string from another pocket.

  "You ought to have something on it," he said, gravely. "Kerosene isgood, but as we haven't any, it will help it just to keep the air awayfrom 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 hemended a bird's wing once."

  "Yes, I did," admitted Dick, modestly blushing at his achievements. "Areyou going right home because of your finger?"

  "No, indeed! We never stop for hurts and things, unless they're badenough for us to go to bed. Give me another potato, and you open it forme, won't you, Dick?"

  "Yep," and Marjorie was immediately supplied with the best of thepotatoes 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, thoughthere may be some. Most of the people in the cottages haven't anychildren,--or else they're grown up,--big girls and young ladies. Andthere's a few little babies, but not many of our age. So that's whywe'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 allright; and if you weren't the right sort, we didn't care how you tookit."

  "That's so," agreed Marjorie.