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." "Well, I have three," said King, "so you see I haven't such deep awe of them.

But Midget won't hurt you, so don't be _too_ scared of her." Marjorie smiled in most friendly fashion, for she liked these boys, and especially Tom.
"How old are you ?" she asked him, in her frank, pleasant way.
"I'm fourteen," replied Tom, "and the other kids are twelve and ten." "King's fourteen,--'most fifteen," said Midget; "and I'll be thirteen in July.

So we're all in the same years.

I wish our Kitty was here.

She's nearly eleven, but she isn't any bigger than Harry." Harry smiled shyly, and poked at the potatoes with a stick, not knowing quite what to say.
"You see," King explained, "Midget is the best sort of a girl there is.
She's girly, all right, and yet she's as good as a boy at cutting up jinks or doing any old kind of stunts." The three Craigs looked at Marjorie in speechless admiration.
"I never knew that kind," said Tom, thoughtfully.