The sun rose early on Fourth of July morning. For he knew many patriotic young hearts were beating with impatience for the great day to begin. Moreover, he rose clear and bright, and yet he didn't shine down too hotly for the comfort of those same young people. In fact, it was a perfect summer day.

Marjorie sprang out of bed and began to dress, with glad anticipations. The Bryants were to spend the day at Maynard Manor, until time for the afternoon picnic, and after the picnic came the reception at Bryant Bower.

Midget put on a fresh white piquÉ, and tied up her mop of curls with wide bows of red, white, and blue ribbon.

When all ready she went dancing downstairs, pausing on her way to tap at King's door.

"All ready, Kinksie?" she called out.

"In a minute, Mops. Wait for me!"

Midget sat down on the staircase window-seat, and in a moment King joined her there.

"Hello, Mopsy-Doodle! Merry Fourth of Ju—New Year's!"

"Hello, yourself! Oh, King, isn't it a gorgeous day? What shall we do first?"

"I dunno! We can't shoot things or make much noise, until Father and Mother get up. It would be mean to wake them."

"Oh, pshaw! they can't be asleep through all this racket that is going on. Hear the shooting all around."

"Well, we'll see. Let's get outdoors, anyhow."

The children opened the front door, and there, sitting on the veranda steps, his head leaning against a pillar, sat Cousin Jack, apparently sound asleep.

"Will you look at that!" said King, in a whisper. "Has he been here all night, do you s'pose?"

"No, 'course not. But I s'pose he's been here some time. Do you think he's really asleep?"

"He looks so. What shall we do with him?"

"Dress him up," commanded Marjorie, promptly, and pulling off her wide hair-ribbons, she proceeded to tie one around Cousin Jack's neck, and one around his head, giving that gentleman a very festive appearance.

After she had arranged the bows to her satisfaction, Cousin Jack obligingly woke up,—though, as a matter of fact, he hadn't been to sleep!

"Why, if here isn't Mehitabel!" he exclaimed; "and Hezekiah, too! What a surprise!"

"How do you like your decorations?" asked Marjorie, surveying him with admiration.

"Oh, are these ribbons real? I thought I was dreaming, and had a Fourth of July nightmare."

"How long have you been here, Cousin Jack?" asked King.

"Well, I was waking, so I called early; I don't know at what hour, but I've been long enough alone, so I'm glad you two young patriots came down to help me celebrate. Polly want a firecracker?" He held out a pack of small ones to Marjorie, but she declined them.

"No, thank you; give those to King. I'd rather have torpedoes."

"All right, my girlie, here you are! And here's a cap to replace the ribbons you so kindly gave me."

Cousin Jack drew from his pocket a tissue-paper cap, that had evidently come in a snapping-cracker. Then he produced another one for King, and one which he laid aside for Rosy Posy. They were gay red, white, and blue caps, with cockades and streamers.

"Now, we'll be a procession," he went on. From a nook on the veranda, where he had hidden them, he produced a drum, a tambourine, and a cornet.

The cornet was his own, and he presented the drum to King, and the tambourine to Marjorie.

"Form in line!" he ordered; "forward,—march!"

He led the line, and the two children followed.

Being a good cornet player, Cousin Jack made fine martial music, and King and Midget had sufficient sense of rhythm to accompany him on the drum and tambourine. After marching round the house once, Cousin Jack went up the steps and in at the front door. Upstairs and through the halls, and down again.

Nurse Nannie and Rosamond appeared at the nursery door, and were instructed to fall in line behind the others. Then Sarah, the waitress, was discovered, looking on from the dining-room, and she, too, was told to march.

At last Mr. and Mrs. Maynard appeared, laughing at this invasion of their morning nap.

They sat in state in the veranda-chairs, as on a reviewing-stand, while the grand parade marched and countermarched on the lawn in front of them.

"All over!" cried Cousin Jack, at last. "Break ranks!"

The company dispersed, and Sarah returned, giggling, to her duties.

"Such a foine man as Misther Bryant do be!" she said to the cook. "Shure, he's just like wan of the childher."

And so he was. Full of patriotic enthusiasm, Cousin Jack set off bombs and firecrackers, until the elder Maynards declared that their ears ached, and the roisterers must come in to breakfast.

"I must go home," announced their guest. "I have a wife and six small children dependent on me for support."

As a matter of fact, the Bryants had no children, and Mrs. Maynard declared she should telephone for Cousin Ethel to come to breakfast, too, so Cousin Jack consented to stay.

The breakfast party was an unexpected addition to the day's festivities, but Mrs. Maynard was equal to the occasion. She scurried around and found flags to decorate the table, and tied a red, white, and blue balloon to the back of each chair, which gave the room a gay appearance.

The vigorous exercise had produced good appetites, and full justice was done to Ellen's creamed chicken and hot rolls and coffee.

"Who's for a dip in the ocean?" asked Cousin Jack, when breakfast was over.

All were included in this pleasing suggestion, and soon a bathing-suited party threw themselves into the dashing whitecaps.

Cousin Jack tried to teach Marjorie to swim, but it is not easy to learn to swim in the surf, and she made no very great progress. But Mr. Maynard and Mr. Bryant swam out to a good distance, and King was allowed to accompany them, as he already was a fair swimmer.

Marjorie held fast to the rope, and jumped about, now almost carried away by a big wave, and now thrown back toward the beach by another.

It was rather rough bathing, so the ladies of the party and Midget left the water before the others.

"Aren't we having fun!" exclaimed Marjorie, as she trudged, dripping, through the sand, to the bath-house. "Oh, Cousin Ethel, I'm so glad you came down here."

"I'm glad, too, dear. I believe Jack enjoys you children more than he does any of his friends of his own age."

"Jack's just like a boy," said Mrs. Maynard, "and I think he always will be. He's like Peter Pan,—never going to grow up."

And it did seem so. After the bath, Mr. Bryant marched the children down to the pier for ice cream.

Mrs. Maynard remonstrated a little, but she was informed that Fourth of July only came once a year, and extra indulgences were in order.

So King and Midget and Cousin Jack went gayly along the long pier that ran far out into the ocean. On either side were booths where trinkets and seaside souvenirs were sold, and Cousin Jack bought a shell necklace for Midget, and a shell watch-fob for King.

Then he ordered a dozen little tin pails sent to his own house.

"For my picnic," he explained, as Midget looked at him wonderingly. "It's to be a sand-pail picnic, you know."

As they neared the ice-cream garden, Marjorie noticed a forlorn-looking little boy, near the entrance. So wistful did he look, that she turned around to look at him again.

"Who's your friend, Mehitabel?" said Mr. Bryant, seeing her glance.

"Oh, I don't know, Cousin Jack!" she cried, impulsively; "but he seems so poor and lonesome, and we're all so happy. Couldn't I go without my ice cream, and let him have it? Oh, please let me!"

"H'm! he isn't a very attractive specimen of humanity."

"Well, he isn't very clean, but, see, he has a nice face, and big brown eyes! Oh, do give him some ice cream, Cousin Jack; I'll willingly go without."

"I'll go without," said King, quickly; "you can have mine, Mops."

Cousin Jack looked quizzically at the children.

"I might say I'd give you each ice cream, and the poor kiddie also. But that would be my charity. Now, if you two really want to do the poor little chap a kindness, you may each have a half portion, and give him a whole plate. How's that?"

"Fine!" exclaimed Marjorie; "just the thing! But, truly, Cousin Jack, it isn't much sacrifice for us, for we'll have ice cream at the picnic, anyhow."

"That's right, girlie; don't claim any more credit than belongs to you. Well, next thing is to invite your young friend."

So Marjorie went over to the poor little boy, and said, kindly:

"It's Fourth of July, and we'd like you to come and eat ice cream with us."

The child's face brightened up, but immediately a look of distrust came into his eyes, and he said:

"Say, is youse kiddin' me?"

"No," said King, for Marjorie didn't know quite what he meant; "we mean it. We're going to have ice cream, and we want you to have some with us."

"Kin I bring me brudder?"

"Where is he?" asked Cousin Jack, smiling at this new development of the case.

"Over dere, wit' me sister. Kin I bring 'em both?"

Marjorie laughed outright at this, but Mr. Bryant said, gravely:

"How many in your entire family? Let me know the worst at once!"

"Dat's all; me brudder an' sister. Kin they come, too?"

"Yes, if they're fairly clean," and the boy ran to get them. He came back bringing a boy but little smaller than himself, and a tiny girl.

Though not immaculate, they were presentable, and soon the six were seated at a round table.

Cousin Jack conformed to his decree that the Maynard children should have but a half-portion each, but he added that this was partly due to his consideration for their health, as well as his willingness that the charity should be partly theirs. But he told his three guests that they could eat as much as they chose; and noting their generally hungry appearance, he ordered a first course of sandwiches for them, which kindness was greatly appreciated.

"Gee! Youse is a white man!" exclaimed the oldest visitor, as he scraped his saucer almost through its enamel.

"What does he mean?" asked Midget, laughing. "Of course, you're a white man."

"That's slang, Marjorie, for a desirable citizen."

"Funny sort of slang," Midget commented; "a white man is plain English, isn't it?"

"I mean, he's white clear through," volunteered the boy, whose quick eyes darted from one face to another of his benefactors.

"Yes, I can understand that," said Midget, slowly; "it just means you're good all through, Cousin Jack, and I quite agree to that."

After the small visitors' hunger was entirely appeased, Cousin Jack presented them each with a flag and a packet of torpedoes, and sent them away rejoicing.

"Poor little scraps of humanity," he said; "I hope, Mehitabel, you'll always bring a little sunshine into such lives when opportunity presents itself."

"I will, Cousin Jack. Are they very poor?"

"No, not so very. But they never have any fun, or anything very good to eat. Of course, you can't be an organized charity, but once in a while, if you can make a poor child happy by the expenditure of a small sum, do it."

"We will," cried King, impressed by Cousin Jack's earnestness. "But we don't have much money to spend, you know."

"You have an allowance, don't you?"

"Yes; we each have fifty cents a week, Mops and Kitty and I."

"Well, Kitty isn't here, so I can't ask her; but I'm going to ask you two dear friends of mine, to give away one-tenth of your income to charity. Now, how much would that be?"

"Five cents a week," replied Marjorie.

"Well, will you do it? Every week give a nickel, or a nickel's worth of peanuts or lemonade or something to some poor little kiddie who doesn't have much fun in life? And you needn't do it every week, if it isn't convenient, but lay aside the nickel each week, and then give a larger sum, as it accumulates."

"Sure we will, Cousin Jack," said King, and Midget said, "Yes, indeed! I'll be glad to. We can most always catch a poor child, somewhere."

"Well, if not, just save it up till you do. You'll find plenty of opportunities in the winter, in Rockwell, I'm sure."

"Yes, sir-ee!" said Midget, remembering the poor family whose house burned down not long ago. "And I'm glad you advised us about this, Cousin Jack. I'm going to ask the Craig boys and Hester to do it, too."

"Better be careful, Mehitabel. I can advise you, because we're good chums, and I'm a little older than you, though I don't look it! But I'm not sure you ought to take the responsibility of advising your young friends. You might suggest it to them,—merely suggest it, you know, and if their agree and their parents agree, why, then, all right. And now home to our own luncheon. I declare it made me hungry to see those children eat!"

Promptly at three o'clock that afternoon the Sand Club gathered for the Sand-Pail Picnic. By making two trips the Maynards' big motor carried them all to the picnic grove, about a mile distant.

Here Cousin Jack provided all sorts of sports for them. At a target, they shot with bows and arrows, and the boys were allowed a little rifle-shooting.

There was that funny game of picking up potatoes with teaspoons, followed by a rollicking romp at Blindman's Buff. Then Cousin Jack marshalled his young friends into line, and they all sang "Star-Spangled Banner," and "Columbia," and "America," and cheered, and fired off mild explosives, and had a real Fourth of July celebration. Then the feast was brought on.

The children sat cross-legged on the grass, and each one was given a tin sand-pail.

But instead of sand, the pail was found to contain sandwiches and crisp little cakes known as sand-tarts.

After these there were served dainty little paper pails, from a caterer's, filled with ice cream.

"What a lovely sand picnic!" exclaimed Marjorie, as she sat on the sand, blissfully disposing of her ice cream. "I'm going to call Cousin Jack, The Sandman!"

"Ho! a Sandman puts you to sleep!" cried Tom Craig; "let's get a better name than that for Mr. Bryant."

"Call him Sandy Claus," piped up Dick, and they all laughed.

"A little out of season, but it's all right, my boy," said Cousin Jack. "Call me anything you like, as long as you call me early and often. Now, shall we be trotting home again, to continue our revels?"

With a sigh of utter content, Marjorie climbed into the motor, and they went spinning home to dress for the "Reception."

At the reception more guests were invited, and Bryant Bower quite justified its pretty name.

Japanese lanterns dotted the grounds, and hung among the vines of the veranda. Flags and bunting were everywhere, and a small platform, draped with red, white, and blue, had been erected for the receiving party.

This consisted of King, Midget, and Rosy Posy in patriotic costume.

King, as Uncle Sam, presented a funny figure with his white beaver hat, his long-tailed blue coat, and red and white striped trousers. Midget wore a becoming "Miss Columbia" costume, with a liberty cap and liberty pole and flag. Rosamond was a chubby little Goddess of Liberty, but she preferred to run around everywhere, rather than stand still and receive.

King and Midget did the honors gracefully, and after all the guests had assembled, they took seats on the lawn to watch the fireworks.

These were of a fine quality, and as the flowerpots and bombs burst into stars in the sky both children and grown-ups joined in loud applause.

There was patriotic music, and more ice cream, and when, at last, it was all over, the Sand Club went together to thank Cousin Jack for the entertainment.

"Glad you liked it," he said, heartily; "and now, scamper home and to bed, all of you, so your parents won't say I made you lose your beauty sleep."