his year we've had you two to play with, so we've sort of neglected
her,--and she doesn't like it."

"But that's no reason she should spoil our palace," and Marjorie looked
sadly at the scene of ruin and destruction.

"No; and of course I'm not sure that she did do it. But she said she'd
do something to get even with you."

"With me? Why, she doesn't know me at all."

"That's what she's mad about. She says you're stuck up, and you put on
airs and never look at her."

"Why, how silly! I don't know her, but somehow, from her looks, I _know_
I shouldn't like her."

"No, you wouldn't, Marjorie. She's selfish, and she's ill-tempered. She
flies into a rage at any little thing, and,--well, she isn't a bit like
you Maynards."

"_No!_ and I'm glad of it! I wouldn't _want_ to be like such a stuck-up
thing!"

These last words were spoken by a strange voice, and Marjorie looked
round quickly to see a shock of red hair surmounting a very angry little
face just appearing from behind the small hill, beneath whose
overhanging shadow they had built their palace.

"Why, Hester Corey!" shouted Tom. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see how you like your old sand-house!" she jeered, mockingly,
and making faces at Marjorie between her words. Marjorie was utterly
astonished. It was her first experience with a child of this type, and
she didn't know just how to take her.

The newcomer was a little termagant. Her big blue eyes seemed to flash
with anger, and as she danced about, shaking her fist at Marjorie and
pointing her forefinger at her, she cried, tauntingly, "Stuck up!
Proudy!"

Marjorie grew indignant. She had done nothing knowingly to provoke this
wrath, so she faced the visitor squarely, and glared back at her.

"I'd rather be stuck up than to be such a spiteful thing as you are!"
she declared. "Did _you_ tear down this palace that we took such trouble
to build?"

"Yes, I did!" said Hester. "And if you build it again, I'll tear it down
again,--so, there, now!"

"You'll do no such thing!" shouted Tom.

"Huh, Smarty! What have you got to say about it?"

The crazy little Hester flew at Tom and pounded him vigorously on the
back.

"I hate you!" she cried. "I _hate_ you!"

As a matter of fact, her little fists couldn't hurt the big, sturdy boy,
but her intense anger made him angry too.

"You, Hester Corey!" he cried. "You leave me alone!"

King stood a little apart, with his hands in his pockets, looking a