"How clever Mr Dean is!" Olaf was saying.
"Why?"
"Look at the set of wheels he's rigged up for me so as I can sail my boat on deck." He held up a beautiful model yacht, perfect in line and rig, with which he was playing. Underneath it was a crudely-made contrivance of wood and wire, with four corks for wheels—the handiwork of Arthur Dean.
"Was that your idea?" inquired Larssen.
"No, Dad.... Now, watch me sail her up to windward."
"Wait. You ought to have thought out that idea for yourself."
"I haven't any tools on board, Dad."
"Then go and make friends with the carpenter." Larssen took up the crude contrivance and looked it over contemptuously. "I want you to think out a better device; pitch this overboard; then find out where Mr Chips lives, make friends with him, and get him to construct you a proper set of wheels to your own design."
The boy looked troubled. "I don't want to throw it overboard!" he protested. "I want to sail my boat on deck now."
"Sonny, there are heaps of things that are good for you to do which you won't want to do. It's like being told by the doctor to take medicine. It's nasty to take, but very good for you.... I want to see you one day a big strong fellow able to handle men and things—a great big strong fellow men will be afraid of. That's to be your ambition. You've got to learn to handle men and things. Here's one way to do it."