Stuyvesant: A Franconia Story

“Very well,” said Beechnut, “either of you. It shall go to the one who has the first claim.”

“You say he did not accept your offer of it to him?”

“No,” said Beechnut, “I believe he did not.”

“Then I agree to accept it now,” said Phonny, “and that gives me the first claim.”

Beechnut did not answer to this proposal, but went on harnessing the horse. When the horse was all ready, he gathered up the reins and stood a moment, just before getting into the wagon, in a thoughtful attitude.

“Well now, Phonny,” said he, “here is a great law question to be settled, whether you or Stuyvesant has the best right to the contract. Go and ask Stuyvesant to come to the shop-door.”

So Beechnut got into the wagon and drove out of the shed, and along the yard, until he came to the shop-door, and there he stopped. Phonny and Stuyvesant were standing in front of the door.

“Stuyvesant,” said Beechnut, “here is a perplexing case. Phonny wants to have the care of the hen-house on the same terms I offered it to you. You did not tell me whether you would take it or not.”

“No,” said Stuyvesant, “I was going to tell you that I would take it, but if Phonny wants it, I am willing to give it up to him.”

“And you, Phonny,” said Beechnut, “are willing, I suppose, if Stuyvesant wants it, to give it up to him?”

“Why – yes,” said Phonny. In saying this, however, Phonny seemed to speak quite reluctantly and doubtfully.

“That’s right,” said Beechnut. “Each of you is willing to give up to the other. But now before we can tell on which side the giving up is to be, we must first decide on which side the right is. So that you see we have got the quarrel into a very pretty shape now. The question is, which of you can have the pleasure and privilege of giving up to the other, instead of which shall be compelled to give up against his will. So you see it is now a very pleasant sort of a quarrel.”

“No,” said Phonny, “it is not any such thing. A quarrel is not pleasant, ever.”

“Oh, yes,” said Beechnut, “one of the greatest pleasures of life is to quarrel. We can not possibly get along, without quarrels. The only thing that we can do is to get them in as good shape as possible.”

“Have you got a pencil and paper in your shop?” continued Beechnut.

“Yes,” said Phonny.

“Bring them out to me.”

Phonny brought out a pencil and a small piece of paper, and held them up to Beechnut in the wagon.

“Now boys,” said Beechnut, “are you willing to submit this case to Mr. Wallace, for his decision?”

“Yes,” said Phonny.

“I am too,” said Stuyvesant.

“Then I’ll write a statement of it,” said Beechnut.

Beechnut accordingly placed the paper upon the seat of the wagon beside him, and began to write. In a few minutes he held up the paper and read as follows:

“A. has a certain contract which he is willing to offer to either B. or C. whichever has the prior right to it. He first offered it to B. but before B. accepted the offer C. made application for it. C. immediately accepted the offer, before A. decided upon B.’s application. Now the question is whose claim is best, in respect simply of priority, – the one to whom it was first offered, or the one who first signified his willingness to accept of it.”

“There,” said Beechnut, “there is a simple statement of the case.”

“I don’t understand it very well,” said Phonny.

“Don’t you?” said Beechnut; “then I’ll read it again.”

So Beechnut began again.

“A. has a certain contract – ”

Here Beechnut paused and looked up at the boys.

“A. means Beechnut,” said Stuyvesant.

“Then why don’t you say Beechnut?” said Phonny.

“And the contract,” continued Stuyvesant, “is the agreement about the hens.”

“Which he is willing to offer,” continued Beechnut, “to either B. or C.”

“That is, either to you or me,” said Stuyvesant.

“Yes,” said Phonny, “I understand so far. But what is that about priority.”

“Priority,” said Beechnut, “means precedence in respect to time.”

“That is harder to understand than priority,” said Phonny.

“The question is,” continued Beechnut, “which must be considered as first in order of time, the one who had the offer first, or the one who accepted first.”

“The one who accepted first,” said Phonny.

“You are not to decide the question,” said Beechnut. “I was only explaining to you what the question is. You must carry the paper to Mr. Wallace and get his opinion.”

“But Beechnut,” said Phonny, “why don’t you tell him all about it, just as it was, instead of making up such a story about A. B. and C. and priority.”

“Why, when we refer a case to an umpire for decision,” said Beechnut, “it is always best, when we can, to state the principle of the question in general terms, so that he can decide it in the abstract, without knowing who the real parties are, and how they are to be affected by his decision. Here’s Mr. Wallace now, who would not like very well to decide in favor of his brother and against you, even if he thought that his brother was in the right. But by not letting him know any thing but the general principle he can decide just as he thinks, without fear that you would think him partial.”

“Well,” said Phonny, “I will carry him the paper.”

“You must only give him the paper,” said Beechnut, “and not tell him any thing about the case yourself.”

“No,” said Phonny, “I will not.”

“For if you do,” continued Beechnut, “he will know who the parties are, and then he will not like to decide the question.”

“Well,” said Phonny, “I will not tell him.”

“Let Stuyvesant go with you,” said Beechnut.

“Well,” said Phonny.