Last Byte

"I beg your pardon, but it's my turn to have the Egg!"

Three pairs of eyes swept to the sunny window seat from which vantage-ground Sidney Romley had thrown her protest. Three mouths gaped.

"Yours-"

"Why, Sid-"

"Fifteen-year-olders don't have turns!" laughed Victoria Romley, who was nineteen and very grown up.

Though inwardly Sidney writhed, outwardly she maintained a calm firmness. The better to impress her point she uncurled herself from the cushions and straightened to her fullest height.

"It's because I am fifteen that I am claiming my rights," she answered, carefully ignoring Vicky's laughing eyes. "Each one of you has had the Egg twice and I've never had a cent of it-"

"Sid, you forget I bought a rug when it was my last turn and you enjoy that as much as I do," broke in her oldest sister.

Sidney waved her hand impatiently. She had rehearsed this scene in the privacy of her attic retreat and she could not be deflected by mention of rugs and things. She must keep to the heart of the issue.

"It's the principle of the thing," she continued, loftily. "We're always fair with one another and give and take and all that, and I think it'd be a blot on our honor if you refused me my lawful turn at the Egg. I'm willing to overlook each one of you having it twice."

"That's kind of you. What would you do with it, anyway, kid?" interrupted Vicky, quite unimpressed by her sister's seriousness. She let a chuckle in her voice denote how amused she was.

Sidney flashed a withering look in Vicky's direction.

"I wouldn't spend it all on one party that's over in a minute and nothing to show for it!" she retorted. Then: "And what I'd do with it is my own affair!" She swallowed to control a sob that rose in her throat.

"Tut! Tut!" breathed the tormenting Vicky.

"Why, Sid, dear!" cried Trude, astonished. She put a tray of dishes that she was carrying to the kitchen down upon the old sideboard and turned to face Sid. At the tone of her voice Sidney flew to her and flung her arms about her.

"I don't care-I don't care! You can laugh at me but I'm sick of being different. I-I want to do things like-other girls do. H-have fun-"

Over her head Trude's eyes implored the others to be gentle. She herself was greatly disturbed. Even Vicky grew sober. In a twinkling this lanky, pigtailed little sister seemed to have become an individual with whom they must reckon. They had never suspected but that she was as contented with her happy-go-lucky way as any petted kitten.

Isolde, the oldest sister, frowned perplexedly.

"Sidney, stop crying and tell us what you want. As far as fun is concerned I don't think you have any complaint. Certainly you do not have anything to worry about!" Isolde's tone conveyed that she did.

"If it's just the Egg that's bothering you, why, take it!" cried Vicky, magnanimously.

Only Trude sensed that the cause of Sidney's rebellion lay deeper than any desire for fun. She was not unaware of certain dissatisfactions that smoldered in her own breast. The knowledge of them helped her to understand Sidney's mood. She patted the girl's head sympathetically.

"I guess we haven't realized you're growing up, Sid," she laughed softly. "Now brace up and tell us what's wrong with everything."

Trude's quiet words poured balm on Sidney's soul. At last-at last these three sisters realized she was fifteen. It hadn't been the Egg itself she had wanted-it had been to have them reckon her in on their absurd family cogitations. She drew the sleeve of her blouse across her eyes and faced them.

"I want to go somewhere, to live somewhere where I won't be Joseph Romley's daughter! I want to wear clothes like the other girls and go to a boarding school and never set eyes on a book of poetry. I want adventure and to do exciting things. I want-"