er to come to the Sand Club meetings. At this, Hester had
flown into one of her rages, and declared that Ruth should not become a
member of their little circle.

"Look here, Hester Corey," said Tom Craig, "you promised, if you could
be Queen, to be always sweet and pleasant. Do you call this keeping
your promise?"

"Pooh, who cares! I only promised, if the club stayed just the same. If
you're going to put in a lot of new members without asking me, my
promise doesn't count."

"Ruth isn't 'a lot,'" said Marjorie, laughing at Hester's fury.

But her laughter only made Queen Sandy more angry than ever.

"I don't care if she isn't! She's a new member, and I won't have _any_
new members,--so, there, now!"

"Say, Hester," began King, "I don't think you're boss of this club. Just
because you're Queen, you don't have any more say than the Grand
Sandjandrum, or me, or anybody."

"I do, too! A Queen has _all_ the say,--about everything! And I say
there sha'n't be any more people in this club, and so there sha'n't!"

Hester stamped her foot and shook her fist and wagged her head in the
angriest possible way, and if the others hadn't been so exasperated by
her ill-temper they must have laughed at the funny picture she made. Her
new crown was tumbled sideways, her hair ribbons had come off, and her
face, flushed red and angry, was further disfigured by a disagreeable
scowl.

And just at this moment Ruth arrived. She came in, smiling, neatly
dressed in a clean print frock, and broad straw hat with a wreath of
flowers round it.

"Hello, Marjorie," she said, a little shyly, for she didn't know the
Craig boys, and she couldn't help seeing that Hester was in a fit of
temper.

"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 grow