“Yes, I want room for my silver stone,” said James. He had found a shining stone, which he called a silver stone. And thus they disputed, and talked loudly and vociferously, and contradicted, interrupted, pushed, and crowded each other. Still, they were all good-natured; that is, they were not angry; the difficulty only arose from their eagerness and their numbers,—and their disorganization.
“O dear me,” said Rollo, at length, “I wish we had a regent again; we got along very well, while Lucy was a regent. Let me be regent now. Come, Henry and James, let me be regent, and I will direct, and then we shall have order again.”
“Well,” said James.
“No,” said Henry, “you have not been elected. You can’t be regent, unless you are chosen regularly.”
Lucy said nothing, but stood behind the others in despair.
“Well, then, let Lucy be regent; she was chosen.”
“But I was only chosen regent for the walk,” said Lucy.
“O never mind,” said Rollo, “let her be regent now.”
But Henry was not disposed to submit to any doubtful authority. He kept at work putting things in, in the way that pleased him most, without any regard to Rollo’s proposal for prolonging Lucy’s authority. As Henry did not acquiesce in this proposed measure, Rollo and James seemed to think it was useless for them to do so, and so they went much as they had begun, until they had pretty well filled up Jonas’s cabinet with a perfect medley of specimens, the worthy and the worthless all together. They were at length interrupted by the sound of the bell, calling Rollo in to tea; Henry then went home, and James, Lucy, and Rollo went into the house.