Dan laughed.
“You’d have gone all right, sir,” he answered with conviction.
“Well, I’d prefer to think that I would have, but I’m not too sure, Vinton. I’ve lived a good deal longer than you, my boy, and I’ve seen the time when a little heroism was hard to come at. Perhaps moral heroism is more difficult than physical, but—However, we’re not discussing such weighty questions this morning, eh? What’s your first name?”
“Dan, sir.”
“Dan, Dan Vinton. That’s a good-sounding name,” mused Mr. Pennimore. “I’ve often thought that there was a good deal in names. I mean that a person’s name maybe expresses his character if we were only able to read it aright. Now your name to me expresses courage and grit and fearlessness. Do you see what I mean?”
“Yes, sir, I think so. But, you see, I was afraid, sir.”
“Yes, afraid to be afraid, my boy. That’s the right kind of fear. To take a risk when you’re not afraid is one thing and to take that risk when your heart’s in your boots is another. The biggest hero of all is the man that does a thing when he’s scared to death, merely because he knows that it’s right. Isn’t that so?”
“I suppose so, sir. I never thought much about it.”
“Well,” said Mr. Pennimore with a sudden laugh, “don’t think about it now; this is too fine a morning for problems. You’ll find when you get to know me better, Dan, that I have a weakness for problems. I call you Dan because you and I are going to be pretty good friends, I hope. Now tell me something about yourself. Where do you live when you’re at home?”
“In Graystone, Ohio, sir.”