"I'm glad, of course," he said to Potter, "to see you taking an interest in something--outside the Pontchartrain bar and the chorus of a comic opera--but you're going over the line with this thing. You're getting as bad as Old Man Jeffords. I sit in directors' meeting at the bank with him once a week, and he'll butt into any sort of a discussion with idiocy about some new postage stamp he's found in somebody's attic. I suppose people must have fads and amusements." He said it as if he did not in the least see why they should have such absurd things. "But they can be carried too far. You're riding this hobby day and night. Aeroplanes! There's no money in aeroplanes." "I'm not thinking of making money out of them," said Potter. "Then why are you monkeying with them? Too much aeroplane, or too much golf, or too much bridge, or too much anything that interferes with a man's business, is about as bad as too much whisky." "But aeroplanes are my business." "Fiddlesticks, son! You've been sick a long time, and you've gotten this notion. Automobiles is your business." "I guess we don't get the same point of view, Dad. You're interested in one thing and I'm interested in another. Somehow they don't match up." "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."