“Hello, Ruth,” said Marjorie, running to her, and taking her by the hand.  “Come on in; this is Sand Court.  These are the Craig boys,—­Tom, Dick, and Harry.  And this is our Queen,—­but I think you know Hester Corey.”

“Yes,” began Ruth, but Hester cried out:  “I don’t want her to know me!  She sha’n’t join our club, I say!”

Ruth looked bewildered at first, and then her sweet little face wrinkled up, and the tears came into her big blue eyes.

“Don’t cry, Ruth,” said Midget, putting her arm round her; “Hester is sort of mad this morning, but I guess she’ll get over it.  Don’t mind her.”

“I won’t get over it,” screamed Hester.  “I’m not going to have Ruth Rowland in this club!”

“For goodness gracious sakes, children, what is the matter?”

A grown-up voice exclaimed these words, and then Mr. Jack Bryant entered Sand Court.  He took in the situation at a glance, but pretended to be ignorant of the true state of things.

“What’s up, O Queen?” he said, addressing Hester.  “Oh, sunny-faced, honey-voiced Queen of Sand Court, what, I prithee, is up?”

“Nothing,” growled Hester, looking sullen.

“Nay, nay, not so, sweet Queen; I bethink me there is much up, indeed!  Else why these unusual consternations on the faces of thy courtiers?”

Of course, Cousin Jack knew all about the doings of Sand Court.  He had often been with them, and delighted them all by talking “Court language,” but to-day nobody responded to his pleasantry.  Ruth and Marjorie were on the verge of tears, the boys were all angry at Hester, and Hester herself was in one of her wildest furies.

She refused to answer Cousin Jack, and sat on her throne, shrugging her shoulders and twitching about, with every cross expression possible on her pouting face.  Mr. Bryant became more serious.

“Children,” he said, “this won’t do.  This Sand Club is a jolly, good-natured club, usually, and now that I see you all at sixes and sevens, I want to know what’s the matter.  Midget, will you tell me?”

“I want Ruth Rowland to be in our club,” said Marjorie, straightforwardly; “and Hester doesn’t want her.  And Hester says that because she is Queen, we must all do as she says.”

“Ah, ha; urn, hum.  Well, Hester, my dear child, why don’t you want Ruth in the club?”

“Because I don’t!” and the Queen looked more disagreeable than ever.

“Because you don’t!  Well, now, you see, my dear, that is just no reason at all, so Ruth can be a member, as far as you’re concerned.”

“No, she can’t!  I won’t have her in!”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t like her!”

“Ah, now we’re getting at it.  And suppose any of the club shouldn’t like you; then you couldn’t be a member, could you?”

“They do like me!” declared Hester.