THE STOCKHOLDERS IN COUNCIL.
Mr. Tommy Toppleton had reduced the riotous assembly before him to a
tolerable degree of subjection. The president was obliged to embody
in his own person the dignity of the Lake Shore Railroad, since
those in front of him refused to be conscious of the glory of being
stockholders. He was ready to hear any motion, and it was evident
that he intended to keep the peace. But the boys were really excited.
They had been discussing the interests of the road, and some of their
projects would certainly prove to be treasonable to the house of
Toppleton. It must be confessed that a great many of them could not
see the difference between their own interests and those of the road;
and being excited, they did not set a good example to their elders in
Congress and other deliberative bodies, but behaved very much like
full-grown men on similar occasions.
“Mr. President,” said Wetherstane, springing to his feet, as soon as it
was evident that a motion was in order.
“Mr. President,” called Barnscott, almost at the same instant. “I
move--”
“Wetherstane has the floor,” interposed the impartial presiding
officer, vigorously pounding the desk with his gavel; and I must
say he made noise enough to entitle him to preference as one of the
gentlemanly conductors on our road, where noise seemed to be at a
premium.
“What sort of way is that?” demanded Barnscott. “I have the floor.”
“Wetherstane attracted my attention first, and he has the floor,”
replied Tommy, decidedly.
“I was up first,” persisted Barnscott.
“Take your seat, sir!” roared the president; and the pine boards of
which the lid of the desk was composed were in imminent danger of being
fractured by his gavel.
“Mr. President, I rise to a point of order,” said Lennox.
[Illustration: A STOCKHOLDERS’ MEETING.--Page 23.]
“Order, gentlemen!” roared Tommy. “I have decided that Wetherstane has
the floor. If any stockholder is so disposed, he can appeal from the
decision of the chair.”
Under ordinary circumstances, Tommy Toppleton did not permit any
appeal from the decision of the chair, and always insisted upon having
his own way; but it was in the nature of a triumph for him to direct
the deliberations of his fellow-students, and to introduce forms and
methods of which the majority of them had never heard.
“I appeal from the decision of the chair,” added Lennox.
“Points of order necessarily take precedence of all other questions,”
said Tommy, with the utmost dignity and self-possession.
“Ahem!” coughed a fellow in the crowd, which brought down a regular
board-splitter from the gavel.
“The chair decided that Wetherstane had the floor. An appeal is taken.
The question now before the house is, Shall the decision of the chair
stand as the decision of the stockholders? This question is debatable,
and the presiding officer may participate in the discussion. You will
all see that, occupying a position where I can see all the members
of the assembly, I could not very well make a mistake in regard to
who spoke first. I am quite confident that Wetherstane had said ‘Mr.
President’ before Barnscott opened his mouth.”
Various opinions were expressed by individual stockholders, and they
were about equally divided on the merits of the question. Each claimant
for the floor had half a dozen advocates, who were confident that their
man had spoken first. It was really a matter between Tommy and the
stockholders, which they were likely to decide as they loved or hated
the president.
“Question! Question!” called the students, when they began to be weary
of the fruitless debate.
“Those in favor of sustaining the decision of the chair will manifest
it by saying, ‘Ay.’”
“Ay!” shouted many voices.
“Those opposed say, ‘No.’”
“No!” responded the determined opponents of the president.
“It is a vote!” said Tommy, who was not quite willing to believe that
one of his decisions could be reversed by a majority.
“A vote!” exclaimed Lennox. “Why, Mr. President--”
“Silence, sir! A vote cannot be debated,” thundered Tommy, with awful
dignity. “Any member has the right to doubt the vote, and call for a
count.”
“I doubt the vote, Mr. President, and call for a count,” added Lennox.
“The vote is doubted,” said Tommy, rapping violently to repress the
noise and confusion. “Those in favor of sustaining the decision of the
chair will rise and stand uncovered till counted.”
“Uncovered?” demanded Briscoe. “Shall we take our things off?”
“Order!”
Tommy’s friends, and those who had not backbone enough to vote against
his decision, rose and were counted. I voted with this side because I
really believed that Wetherstane had spoken first.
“Twenty-one,” said the president, after he had counted the
affirmatives; and I noticed that his lips were compressed, as if to
subdue some angry emotions which he felt at the result.
“Those opposed stand till counted.”
A large majority, obtaining pluck from mere numbers, sprang to their
feet.
“All up! All up!” shouted the more demonstrative of the rebels, who had
doubtless been to town meetings in their day.
“Order!” screamed Tommy, more fiercely than ever; for the vote, to
him, looked like factious opposition. “Eighty-six in the negative,” he
added, when he had completed the count.
Silence reigned in the hall then, and perhaps many of the students were
appalled to think of what they had done. They had actually voted down
the high and mighty Tommy Toppleton, whose word was law. The experience
of the nations that deliberative bodies are not favorable to the rule
of tyrants was in a fair way to be realized by the heir of the house
of Toppleton. The boys watched the president, expecting an outburst
of indignation and wrath at his defeat; but, happily, the dignity of
the presiding officer prevailed over the feelings of the individual,
and with a mighty struggle he repressed his emotions. As I have had
occasion to say before, Tommy was in the main a good fellow; he would
have been a first-rate one if he had not been spoiled by the weak
indulgence of his father and mother. He had been taught to have his own
way, and his passions were a volcano within him, ready to break out
whenever he was thwarted. I am inclined to think this was the first
time he had ever conquered himself, and restrained his wrath when
defeated.
“The decision is in the negative,” added Tommy, with admirable
self-possession for one of his temperament. “Barnscott has the floor.”
“Mr. President,” said the lucky claimant, “I move that we proceed to
the election of officers for the ensuing year.”
“Second the motion,” added Faxon.
“It is moved and seconded that the stockholders proceed to the election
of officers,” continued Tommy, who could not see why all this storm had
been created on so simple a proposition. “The question is now before
the house.”
“Mr. President!” shouted Wetherstane, loud enough to have been heard on
the other side of Ucayga Lake.
“Wetherstane,” replied Tommy, indicating that the speaker had the floor.
“I move you that we adjourn to Grass Springs at two o’clock this
afternoon,” added the young gentleman, who, beyond the possibility of a
doubt, had the floor now.
“Second the motion,” added Putnam.
“It is moved and seconded that we adjourn to Grass Springs at two
o’clock this afternoon,” repeated the president, wondering what this
movement meant.
“What’s to be done with my motion?” demanded Barnscott. “I thought one
thing had to be settled before another was brought up.”
“A motion to adjourn is always in order,” said the president.
“Mr. President, I rise to a point of order,” interposed Skotchley, a
quiet kind of fellow, who had studied deeper into parliamentary law
than even Tommy Toppleton, for he had been the presiding officer of a
juvenile debating society.
“State your point, Skotchley.”
“I respectfully submit that the motion to adjourn is not in order, for
the reason that, to entitle it to precedence, it should simply be a
motion to adjourn without fixing a time.”
Tommy was nonplussed. The question took him out of his depth. He had
Cushing’s Manual in his pocket, but it would not be dignified to
consult it in the presence of the stockholders. However, he knew that
Skotchley was well posted, and he deemed it prudent to follow his lead.
“The chair decides that the point is well taken, and that the motion
to adjourn is not in order,” said he, though probably he would not
have been so pliant if he had not been opposed to the substance of the
motion. “By the ruling out of this motion, Barnscott’s is now in order.”
“That’s a pretty how d’ye do!” exclaimed Putnam.
“Order! The motion to proceed to the choice of officers is now before
the house.”
“Mr. President, I move to amend the motion by the addition of the
words, ‘at Grass Springs at two o’clock this afternoon,’” said
Wetherstane.
“Second the motion,” added Putnam, who was evidently “in the ring,” for
he seconded only the Grass Springs motions.
Tommy stated the amendment, and there was a silence of a minute or
two, for a wonder. Then Barnscott did not see why the amendment had
been brought forward, and wanted to know what Grass Springs had to
do with election of officers. He evidently was not “in the ring.” He
should vote against the amendment, and he hoped all the rest of the
stockholders would do the same.
“Mr. President,” said Briscoe, who had more pluck than most of his
companions, “who ever heard of the stockholders of a railroad holding
a meeting for the election of officers right in the place where they
do their business? It is contrary to custom, and I protest against any
innovations. They always have a free train, and take the stockholders
to a place where there is a good hotel. After they have voted, they
have a first-rate supper at the expense of the corporation. If they
don’t always do it, they always ought to do it. I am in favor of having
this meeting at the hotel in Grass Springs, and, after the business is
done, of eating as good a supper as the landlord can get up for us.”
“Question! Question!” shouted the stockholders, who seemed to be
unanimously in favor of following the precedent.
Barnscott made a speech in favor of an immediate election. He did not
believe stockholders usually had a dinner; but, as he continued his
remarks rather longer than prudence justified, he was interrupted by
calls for the question.
“Are you ready for the question?” said Tommy, who did not know what to
make of the remarkable proceedings of the company. “You can vote what
you please, fellows; but carrying out the vote is quite another thing.
You can vote that Lake Ucayga dry up if you like, but it won’t dry up.”
“Dry up!” shouted some of the ruder ones. “Question!”
“Those in favor of amending the motion will say ‘Ay,’” added the
president.
The motion was carried by a majority of three to one. The original
motion was then passed by a vote of the same ratio. Briscoe then moved
that the directors be instructed to make the arrangements for the
meeting and the dinner in the afternoon, which was also carried. The
meeting then adjourned; but it was clear enough to Tommy Toppleton that
the stockholders were taking things into their own hands, and that his
father would have something to say in regard to the astounding vote.