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.