Aunt Jane's Nieces Out West
At the annual meeting of
stockholders in walks this stripling--a mere kid--proves that he holds
the majority of stock, elects himself president and installs a new board
of directors, turning the tired and true builders of the business out in
the cold. Then, without apology, promise or argument, President Jones
walks out again! In an hour he upset the old conditions, turned our
business topsy-turvy and disappeared with as little regard for the
Continental as if it had been a turnip. That stock must have cost him
millions, and how he ever got hold of it is a mystery that has kept us
all guessing ever since. The only redeeming feature of the affair was
that the new board of directors proved decent and Jones kept away from us
all and let us alone. I'd never seen him until he came here a few days
ago and began to order me around. So, there, Mr. Merrick, you know as
much about Jones as I do."
Mr. Merrick was perplexed. The more he heard of young Jones the more
amazing; the boy seemed to be.
"Has the Continental lost money since Jones took possession?" he
inquired.
"I think not," replied Goldstein, cautiously. "You're a business man, Mr.
Merrick, and can understand that our machinery--our business system--is
so perfect that it runs smoothly, regardless of who grabs the dividends.
What I object to is this young fellow's impertinence in interfering with
my work here. He walks in, reverses my instructions to my people, orders
me to do unbusinesslike things and raises hob with the whole
organization."
"Well, it belongs to him, Goldstein," said Uncle John, in defense of
the boy. "He is your employer and has the right to dictate. But just at
present he needs your help. He asked me to come here and tell you of
his arrest."
Goldstein shrugged his shoulders.
"His arrest is none of my business," was his reply. "If Jones stole the
money to buy Continental stock he must suffer the consequences. I'm
working for the stock, not for the individual."
"But surely you will go to the station and see what can be done for him?
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There was once an honest journeyman tailor, by name Labakan, who learned his trade with an excellent master in Alexandria. It could not be said that Labakan was unhandy with the needle; on the contrary, he could make excellent work: moreover, one would have done him injustice to have called him lazy. Nevertheless, his companions knew not what to make of him, for he would often sew for hours together so rapidly that the needle would glow in his hand, and the thread smoke, and that none could equal him.
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