“I should say they didn’t.... I think you and I are better friends than we used to be, son.”
“Yes,” said Potter.
“On the whole, your accident was a good thing for both of us.... I’ve gotten acquainted with you, son, and it’s done me good. You had me going for a while. I thought you were a worthless young cub who would never do anything but squander what I made—and, by Jove! I was going to fix things so you couldn’t! But you’re not. You’ve got the stuff in you to take my place and carry on the business. A few years’ training and you’ll be up to the job. Don’t let any foolishness like this aeronautic stuff side-track you. Why, you’ve got to be a regular darn fanatic about it!”
“I suppose I have, Dad. I guess it needs a fanatic.”
Fabius shook his head with disgust. “I don’t want folks saying my son’s a crank,” he said. “I suppose boys at your age are bound to have enthusiasms, but there’s just one kind of enthusiasm that’s worth a tinker’s dam, and that’s enthusiasm about your business.”
“I’m sorry, Dad, if I disappoint you so much. I expect to come into the business after a while—when the world quiets down. I’ll work there as hard as you want me to, but first I’ve got to do this thing. It’s got to be done. Nobody knows what will happen. You believe in fire insurance, don’t you?”
“Naturally.”
“But you go ahead planning as if there wouldn’t be a fire. You don’t expect a fire.... But you admit the possibility of it?”
“Certainly.”
“Well, try to look at this thing in that way. We don’t know what a year or two years may bring. Germany may be licked or the Allies may be licked, ... or we may be dragged into it. That’s a fire we’ve got to insure against. And I’m going into one line of the insurance business—the aeroplane line. If the fire comes we’ve got to have aeroplanes to put it out. If it doesn’t come, no harm will be done by insuring.... The difference is that I believe it’s coming—and we won’t be ready.”