“I’m glad, too, dear.  I believe Jack enjoys you children more than he does any of his friends of his own age.”

“Jack’s just like a boy,” said Mrs. Maynard, “and I think he always will be.  He’s like Peter Pan,—­never going to grow up.”

And it did seem so.  After the bath, Mr. Bryant marched the children down to the pier for ice cream.

Mrs. Maynard remonstrated a little, but she was informed that Fourth of July only came once a year, and extra indulgences were in order.

So King and Midget and Cousin Jack went gayly along the long pier that ran far out into the ocean.  On either side were booths where trinkets and seaside souvenirs were sold, and Cousin Jack bought a shell necklace for Midget, and a shell watch-fob for King.

Then he ordered a dozen little tin pails sent to his own house.

“For my picnic,” he explained, as Midget looked at him wonderingly.  “It’s to be a sand-pail picnic, you know.”

As they neared the ice-cream garden, Marjorie noticed a forlorn-looking little boy, near the entrance.  So wistful did he look, that she turned around to look at him again.

“Who’s your friend, Mehitabel?” said Mr. Bryant, seeing her glance.

“Oh, I don’t know, Cousin Jack!” she cried, impulsively; “but he seems so poor and lonesome, and we’re all so happy.  Couldn’t I go without my ice cream, and let him have it?  Oh, please let me!”

“H’m! he isn’t a very attractive specimen of humanity.”

“Well, he isn’t very clean, but, see, he has a nice face, and big brown eyes!  Oh, do give him some ice cream, Cousin Jack; I’ll willingly go without.”

“I’ll go without,” said King, quickly; “you can have mine, Mops.”

Cousin Jack looked quizzically at the children.

“I might say I’d give you each ice cream, and the poor kiddie also.  But that would be my charity.  Now, if you two really want to do the poor little chap a kindness, you may each have a half portion, and give him a whole plate.  How’s that?”

“Fine!” exclaimed Marjorie; “just the thing!  But, truly, Cousin Jack, it isn’t much sacrifice for us, for we’ll have ice cream at the picnic, anyhow.”

“That’s right, girlie; don’t claim any more credit than belongs to you.  Well, next thing is to invite your young friend.”

So Marjorie went over to the poor little boy, and said, kindly: 

“It’s Fourth of July, and we’d like you to come and eat ice cream with us.”

The child’s face brightened up, but immediately a look of distrust came into his eyes, and he said: 

“Say, is youse kiddin’ me?”

“No,” said King, for Marjorie didn’t know quite what he meant; “we mean it.  We’re going to have ice cream, and we want you to have some with us.”

“Kin I bring me brudder?”

“Where is he?” asked Cousin Jack, smiling at this new development of the case.