“Order, gentlemen, order!” said Mr. Tommy Toppleton, rapping his gavel on the desk before him. “While I am president of the Lake Shore Railroad, I will have order!” Tommy was the son of his father; on this question there could be no dispute. Not only was his father a great man, but Tommy, in his own estimation, was a great man also; on this question, unfortunately, there was some dispute. Perhaps it was the young gentleman’s misfortune, certainly it was not his fault, that he was the only son of a very rich father, and had been indulged until he was, so far as the circumstances would admit, a spoiled child. He had many excellent qualities; but he had come to think that among the boys he was…
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