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.”