"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."