"How much shall I offer him?"

"Don't offer him anything. Make friends with him, and he'll do it for
you for nothing."

"But I always give people money to do things for me."

"That's a bad habit. Drop it. Get things done for you for nothing."

"Why?"

"Because I want you to be a business man when you grow up, and not
merely a spender of money."

"What does a business man mean exactly?"

"A ruler of men."

The boy looked troubled again. His confusion of thoughts sorted
themselves into his declaration: "I don't want to be a ruler of men; I
want people to like me."

"That's a poor ambition."

"Why?"

"Mostly anyone wants that. It's a sign of weakness. Drop it."

"What ought I to want?"

"People to fear you."

"Why should they be afraid of me, Dad?"

"For one thing, because some day you'll have all my money and all my
power. Just how big that is you can't realise yet. That's one reason.
The other reason must lie with yourself--you must make yourself strong
and afraid of nothing. How many fights did you have this term, before
you got ill?"

"Only one."

It was clear from the boy's downcast eyes that he had been beaten in his
fight.

"That's bad. That's disobeying my orders. Didn't I tell you to fight
every boy in the school until they acknowledged you master?"

"I'm not strong enough."

"You must make yourself strong enough. It's not a question of muscle,
but will-power. When you're properly over this illness, I'll pick you
out a school in England with about thirty or forty boys of your own age.
They're soft, these English boys, softer than Americans. I want you to
lick your way through them, and then I'll take you back to the States to
polish up on Americans."

After a pause came this question: "Dad, must I have all your money when
I grow up? Couldn't some one else have some of it?"

"Sonny, don't look at it that way. You're born to an empire; try and
make yourself fit for it. I'm building it for you. It'll be a glorious
inheritance.... Now throw those wheels overboard, and run along and find
Mr Chips."

Presently Arthur Dean came to the private deck to ask if Larssen had any
orders for him. He was acting as interim private secretary.

The shipowner dictated a few messages to be sent by wireless, and then
remarked:

"When you're back in London, I suppose you'll be going to see your young
lady as well as your parents?"

Dean blushed.

"Taking her back any presents?"

"Yes, sir."

"A