"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.