Charles Dean was not only a man who kept to his word, but also to his joke. The announcement of the birth of John Narcissus at the historic manor of "Fourways" filled old Sir Neville, the grandfather, with delight and protest; a boy--excellent, Narcissus--preposterous! But Charles was obstinate, Mary amused, and Sir Neville protested anew. It was like Charles--independent, obstinate Charles, who had always been so irrational. It might have been expected of a man who had thrown up a diplomatic career to breed horses, which he could not afford to breed, who had married penniless Mary Loughton, his land-agent's pretty daughter. Charles had always been the fool in contrast with Henry, his level-headed elder brother. Sir Neville did not protest long,--he died one month after the coming of the grandchild with the freak name; and although all babies seem to look alike, many ladies, calling on the young mother, vowed the child was a veritable Narcissus--so handsome, so bonnie, so-- The new baronet made one formal protest, but Henry knew well he could do nothing with his odd-minded brother; still, as uncle, head of the family, and sixth baronet, he felt he had some right to protest against "Narcissus," if not for himself, then for his own boys, who were cousins to this piece of Greek mythology. The young parents only laughed, and John Narcissus, as if seeing the joke, gurgled whenever he was shown the statue and told to grow up like it--not altogether of course, for the statue proved to be cracked over the left breast, where the dealer had carefully kept his thumb. Sir Henry, annoyed, kept aloof. When he heard that Charles had ruined himself and lost "Fourways" in a mad scheme to sink a shaft, over-persuaded by a gang of company promoters, he declared he was in no way surprised, shrugged his shoulders, and waited to see what would happen now. The sale of "Fourways," its contents and its horses, must have been a hard blow for Charles, but he certainly gave no sign when he called to say "Goodbye," before taking a position as continental agent offered him by an old friend. "And--the boy?" asked Sir Henry, unable to make himself pronounce the ridiculous name. "He is going with us." "What--all over the Continent!" cried the astounded baronet. "You can't take a boy there--why not send him to school?" "He's too young--we want him--and I don't believe in preparatory schools." "Crank!" exclaimed Sir Henry to her ladyship when his brother had gone.