"You've explained it to me, but I don't seem quite to get the meaning of it." "Well, it's like this," explained Mr.Westlake.

"Sam Turner, with only a paltry investment, say about five thousand dollars, wants to be able to dictate the entire policy of a million-dollar concern.

In other words, he wants a majority of stock, which will let him come into the stock-holders' meetings, and vote into office his own board of directors, who will do just what he says; and if he wanted to he might have them vote the entire profits of the concern for his salary." "But, father, he wouldn't do anything like that," she protested, shocked.
"No, he probably wouldn't," admitted Mr.Westlake, "but I wouldn't be wise to let him have the chance, just the same." "But, father," objected Miss Hallie, after further thought, "it's his invention, you know, and his process, and if he doesn't have control couldn't all you other stock-holders get together and appropriate the profits yourselves ?" Mr.Westlake gave his thumbs one quick turn.
"Yes," he grudgingly confessed.

"In fact, it's been done," and there was a certain grim satisfaction at the corners of his mouth which his daughter could not interpret, as he thought back over the long list of absorptions which had made old Bill Westlake the power that he was.
"But--but, father," and she hesitated a long time.
"Yes," he encouraged her.
"Even if you won't let him have enough stock to obtain control, if some one other person should own enough of the stock, couldn't they put their stock with his and let him do just about as he liked ?" "Oh, yes," agreed Mr.Westlake without any twirling of his thumbs at all; "that's been done, too." "Would this twenty-five thousand dollars' worth of stock that you're buying, pop, if it were added to what you men are willing to let Mr.
Turner have, give him control ?" Again Mr.Westlake turned his speculative gray eyes upon his daughter and gave her a long, careful scrutiny, which she received with downcast lashes.
"No," he replied.
"How much would ?" "Well, fifty thousand would do it." "Say, pop--" "Yes." Another long interval.
"I wish you'd buy fifty thousand for me in place of twenty-five." "Humph," grunted Mr.Westlake, and after one sharp glance at her he looked down at his big fat thumbs and twirled them for a long, long time.

"Well," said he, "Sam Turner is a fine young man.