“I would like to inquire if it is not because the team was not properly managed?” shot out Bascome. “I believe that if Ford Fenton had been elected we——”
“Drop it!”
“Dry up!”
“Put him out!”
“Treason!”
“Fresh! Fresh!”
A score of lads were on their feet, shouting, yelling, demanding to be recognized, shaking their fists at Bascome and uttering dire threats.
“Mr. Chairman, may I spake wan wurd!” cried Bricktop Molloy, in his excitement lapsing into a rich brogue.
Tom was banging away with his gavel, but he managed to make his voice heard above the tumult.
“Mr. Bascome has the floor!” he cried.