bowing politely to Marjorie, "we're your neighbors. We live in that
green house next to yours. And we're named Tom, Dick, and Harry. Yes, I
know you think those names sound funny, but they're ours all the same.
Thomas, Richard, and Henry Craig,--at your service! I'm Tom. This is
Dick, and this is Harry."

He whacked his brothers on the shoulder as he named them, and they
ducked forward in polite, if awkward salutation.

"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."