"And it has an office with about a hundred other corporations of various
kinds--most of them with names that sound like the zoo--Yellow Wildcat,
Jumping Leapfrog, and that sort of thing. It seems Horse's Neck is
played out and they are going to reorganize it--"
"Who are?" demanded her employer, suddenly sitting erect.
"Scherer, Hunn, Greenbaum & Beck."
"The dickens they are!" he ejaculated. "That bunch of pirates? Not if I
know it!"
"Why not?"
"Reorganize! Reorganize? Reorganization is my middle name!" cried Mr.
Tutt. "So Scherer, Hunn, Greenbaum & Beck are going to reorganize
something, are they? Let 'em try! Not so long as I've got my hat!"
"This is all very enigmatical to me," replied Miss Wiggin. "But then,
I'm only a woman. Aren't they all right? Why shouldn't they reorganize a
mine if it's exhausted?"
"If it's exhausted why do they want to reorganize it?" he demanded,
climbing to his feet. "Let me tell you something, Minerva! All my life
I've been fighting against tyranny--the tyranny of the law, the tyranny
of power, the tyranny of money."
He drew fiercely on his stogy, which being desiccated flared like a
Roman candle.
"You don't need to tell me what this plan of reorganization is; because
they wouldn't propose one unless it was going to benefit them in some
way, and the only way it can be made to benefit them is at the expense
of the other stockholders. _Quod erat demonstrandum_.
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