"And did you really take our wood?" said Marjorie, with an accusing glance, as if surprised that such pleasant-spoken boys could do such a thing.
"Yes, we did. We wanted to see what sort of stuff you were made of. You know Seacote people are sort of like one big family, and we wanted to know how you'd behave about the wood. You've been fine, and now we'll cart it back where we found it. If you had got mad about it, we wouldn't touch a stick to take it back,—would we, fellows?"
"Nope," said the other two, and the Maynards could see at once that Tom was the captain and ringleader of the trio.
"Well," said King, judicially, "if you hadn't been the sort you are, I should have got mad. But I guess you're all right, and so you may take it back. But we don't help you do it,—see? I'm Kingdon Maynard, and this is my sister Marjorie. You fellows took our wood, and now you're going to return it. Is that right?"
"Right-o!" said Tom. "Come on, fellows."
The three boys flew at it, and King and Midget sat on the sand and watched them till the wood was restored to its original position.
"All right," said King; "you boys'll do. Now, come on and roast potatoes with us."
Thus, all demands of honor having been complied with, the five proceeded to become friends. The boys built the fire, and gallantly let Marjorie have the fun of putting the potatoes and apples in place.
The Craig boys had nice instincts, and while they were rather rough-and-tumble among themselves, they treated King more decorously, and seemed to consider Marjorie as a being of a higher order, made to receive not only respect, but reverent homage.
"You see, we never had a sister," said Tom; "and we're a little bit scared of girls."