Not Quite Eighteen

  A NURSERY TYRANT.

  It was such a pleasant old nursery that it seemed impossible thatanything disagreeable should enter into it. The three southern windowsstood open in all pleasant weather, letting in cheerful sun and air. Forcold days there was a generous grate, full of blazing coals, and guardedby a high fender of green-painted wire. There were little cupboards setin the deep sides of the chimney. The two on the left were Barbara's andEunice's; the two to the right, Reggy's and Roger's. Here they kepttheir own particular treasures under lock and key; while little May, theleft-over one, was accommodated with two shelves inside the closetwhere they all hung their hats and coats.

  No one slept in this nursery, but all the Erskine children spent a goodpart of the daytime in it. Here they studied their lessons, and playedwhen it was too stormy to go out; there the little ones were dressed andundressed, and all five took their suppers there every night. They likedit better than any other room in the house, partly, I suppose, becausethey lived so much in it.

  Barbara was the eldest of the brood. It would have shocked her verymuch, had she guessed that any one was ever going to speak of her as a"tyrant." Her idea of a tyrant was a lofty personage with a crown on hishead, like Xerxes, or King John, or the Emperor Nero. She had not gottenfar enough in life or history to know that the same thing can be done ina small house that is done on a throne; and that tyranny is tyranny evenwhen it is not bridging the Dardanelles, or flinging Christians to thewild beasts, or refusing to sign Magna Charta. In short, that theprinciple of a thing is its real life, and makes it the same, whetherits extent or opportunities be more or less.

  This particular tyrant was a bright, active, self-willed little girl ofeleven, with a pair of brown eyes, a mop of curly brown hair, pinkcheeks, and a mouth which was so rosy and smiled so often that peopleforgot to notice the resolute little chin beneath it. She was verygood-humored when everybody minded her, warm-hearted, generous, full ofplans and fancies, and anxious to make everybody happy in her own way.She also cared a good deal about being liked and admired, as self-willedpeople often do; and whenever she fancied that the children loved Eunicebetter than herself (which was the case), she was grieved, and felt thatit was unfair. "For I do a great deal more to please them than Euniedoes," she would say to herself, forgetting that not what we do, butwhat we are, it is which makes us beloved or otherwise.

  But though the younger ones loved Eunice best, they were much more aptto do as Barbara wished, partly because it was easier than to opposeher, and partly because she and her many ideas and projects interestedthem. They never knew what was coming next; and they seldom dared tomake up their minds about anything, or form any wishes of their own,till they knew what their despot had decided upon. Eunice was gentle andyielding, Mary almost a baby; but the boys, as they grew older,occasionally showed signs of rebellion, and though Barbara put thesedown with an iron hand, they were likely to come again with freshprovocation.

  The fifteenth of May was always a festival in the Erskine household."Mamma's May Day," the children called it, because not only was it theirmother's birthday, but it also took the place of the regular May Day,which was apt to be too cold or windy for celebration. The childrenwere allowed to choose their own treat, and they always chose a picnicand a May crowning. Barbara was invariably queen, as a matter of course,and she made a very good one, and expended much time and ingenuity ininventing something new each year to make the holiday different fromwhat it had ever been before. She always kept her plans secret till thelast moment, to enhance the pleasure of the surprise.

  It never occurred to any one, least of all to Barbara herself, thatthere could be rotation in office, or that any one else should be chosenas queen. Still, changes of dynasty will come to families as well as tokingdoms; and Queen Barbara found this out.

  "Eunie, I want you to do something," she said, one afternoon in lateApril, producing two long pieces of stiff white tarlatan; "please sewthis up _there_ and there, and hem it _there_,--not nice sewing, youknow, but big stitches."

  "What is it for?" asked Eunie, obediently receiving the tarlatan, andputting on her thimble.

  "Ah, that is a secret," replied Barbara. "You'll know by and by."

  "Can't you tell me now?"

  "No, not till Mother's May Day. I'll tell you then."

  "Oh, Barbie," cried Eunice, dropping the tarlatan, "I wanted to speak toyou before you began anything. The children want little Mary to be thequeen this year."

  "Mary! Why? I've always been queen. What do they want to change for?Mary wouldn't know how to do it, and I've such a nice plan for thisyear!"

  "Your plans always are nice," said the peace-loving Eunice; "but,Barbie, really and truly, we do all want to have Mary this time. She'sso cunning and pretty, and you've always been queen, you know. It wasthe boys thought of it first, and they want her ever so much. Do lether, just for once."

  "Why, Eunice, I wouldn't have believed you could be so unkind!" saidBarbara, in an aggrieved tone. "It's not a bit fair to turn me out, whenI've always worked so hard at the May Day, and done _everything_, whilethe rest of you just sat by and enjoyed yourselves, and had all the funand none of the trouble."

  "But the boys think the trouble is half the fun," persisted Eunice."They would rather take it than not. Don't you think it would be nice tobe a maid of honor, just for once?"--persuasively.

  "No, indeed, I don't!" retorted Barbara, passionately. "Be maid ofhonor, and have that baby of a Mary, queen! You must be crazy, EuniceErskine. I'll be queen or nothing, you can tell the boys; and if Ibacked out, and didn't help, I guess you'd all be sorry enough." Sosaying, Barbara marched off, with her chin in the air. She was notreally much afraid that her usually obedient subjects would resist herauthority; but she had found that this injured way of speaking impressedthe children, and helped her to carry her points.

  So she was surprised enough, when that evening, at supper, she noticed aconstraint of manner among the rest of the party. The children lookedsober. Reggy whispered to Eunice, Roger kicked Reggy, and at last burstout with, "Now, see here, Barbie Erskine, we want to tell you something.We're going to have Baby for queen this time, and not you, and that'sall there is about it."

  "Roger," said the indignant Barbara, "how dare you speak so? You're notgoing to have anything of the kind unless I say you may."

  "Yes, we are. Mamma says we ought to take turns, and we never have.Nobody has ever had a turn except you, and you keep having yours allthe time. We don't want the same queen always, and this year we'vechosen Mary."

  "Roger Erskine!" cried Barbara, hotly. "You're the rudest boy that everwas!" Then she turned to the others. "Now listen to me," she said. "I'vemade all my plans for this year, and they're perfectly lovely. I won'ttell you what they are, exactly, because it would spoil the surprise,but there's going to be an angel! An angel--with wings! What do youthink of that? You'd be sorry if I gave it up, wouldn't you? Well, ifone more word is said about Mary's being queen, I will give it up, and Iwon't help you a bit. Now you can choose."

  Her tone was awfully solemn, but the children did not give way. Even thehint about the angel produced no effect. Eunice began, "I'm sure,Barbie--" but Reggy stopped her with, "Shut up, Eunice! Everybody infavor of Mary for queen, can hold up their hands," he called out.

  Six hands went up. Eunice raised hers in a deprecating way, but sheraised it. "It's a vote," cried Roger. Barbara glared at them all withhelpless wrath; then she said, in a choked voice, "Oh, well! have yourold picnic, then. I sha'n't come to it," and ran out of the room,leaving her refractory subjects almost frightened at their own success.

  Two unhappy weeks followed. True to her threat, Barbara refused to takeany share in the holiday preparations. She sat about in corners, sulkyand unhappy, while the others worked, or tried to work. Sooth to say,they missed her help very much, and did badly enough without her, butthey would not let her know this. The boys whistled as they drove nails,and _sounded_ very contented and happy.

  Presently Fate sen
t them a new ally. Aunt Kate, the young aunt whom thechildren liked best of all their relations, came on a visit, and,finding so much going on, bestirred herself to help. She was not long inmissing Barbara, and she easily guessed out the position of affairs,though the children made no explanations.

  One afternoon, leaving the others hard at work, she went in search ofBarbara, who had hidden herself away with a book, in the shrubbery.

  "Why are you all alone?" she asked, sitting down beside her.

  "I don't know where the others are," said Barbara, moodily.

  "They are tying wreaths to dress the tent to-morrow. Don't you want togo and help them?"

  "No, they don't want me! Oh, Aunt Kate!" with a sudden burst ofconfidence, "they have treated me so! You can't think how they havetreated me!"

  "Why, what have they done?"

  "I've always been queen on mother's May Day,--always. And this year Imeant to be again. And I had such a nice plan for the coronation, andthen they all chose Mary."

  "Well?"

  "They insisted on having Mary for queen, though I told them I wouldn'thelp if they did," repeated Barbara.

  "Well?"

  "Well? That's all. What do you mean, Aunty?"

  "I was waiting to hear you tell the real grievance. That the childrenshould want Mary for queen, when you have been one so many times,doesn't seem to be a reason."

  Barbara was too much surprised to speak.

  "Yes, my dear, I mean it," persisted her aunt. "Now let us talk thisover. Why should you always be queen on Mamma's birthday? Who gave youthe right, I mean?"

  "The children liked to have me," faltered Barbara.

  "Precisely. But this year they liked to have Mary."

  "But I worked so hard, Aunty. You can't think how I worked. I dideverything; and sometimes I got dreadfully tired."

  "Was that to please the others?"

  "Y-es--"

  "Or would they rather have helped in the work, and did you keep it toyourself because you liked to do it alone?" asked Aunt Kate, with asmile. "Now, my Barbie, listen to me. You have led always because youliked to lead, and the others submitted to you. But no one can governforever. The rest are growing up; they have their own rights and theirown opinions. You cannot go on always ruling them as you did when theywere little. Do you want to be a good, useful older sister, loved andtrusted, or to have Eunice slip into your place, and be the real eldersister, while you gradually become a cipher in the family?"

  Barbara began to cry.

  "Dear child," said Aunty Kate, kissing her, "now is your chance.Influence, not authority, should be a sister's weapon. If you want tolead the children, you must do it with a smile, not a pout."

  The children were surprised enough that evening when Barbara came up tooffer to help tie wreaths. Her eyes looked as if she had been crying,but she was very kind and nice all that night and next day. She was maidof honor to little Queen Mary, after all. Eunice gave her a rapturouskiss afterward, and said, "Oh, Barbie, how _dear_ you are!" and,somehow, Barbara forgot to feel badly about not being queen. Somedefeats are better than victories.