It was Aymer who spoke, slowly and directly. Mr. Aston kept his eyes
on the boy and tried not to see his son.

"What is your real name, Christopher, do you know?"

"James Christopher Hibbault, but they calls me Jim, except him."

In his sleepiness and agitation the boy had dropped back into country
dialect. Aymer winced.

"That is the only name you know? Well, Christopher, it's a good name,
but all the same I want you to forget it at present. I want you to
call yourself always, Christopher Aston. Do you think you can
remember?"

The newly-named one stood silent, puzzling out something in his mind.

"Will it make me not belong to mother?" he said at last.

There was a faint movement on the sofa. It was Mr. Aston who answered,
putting his hand gently on the boy's head.

"No, little Christopher, nothing will make you cease to belong to her;
we do not wish that. But it will be more easy for you to have our
name. We want Christopher Aston to have a better time than poor little
Jim Hibbault. Only, Christopher, remember Aston is my name, and I am
only lending it to you, and you must take very great care of it."

"Isn't it his name too?" The child edged a little nearer his friend,
and looked at Aymer.

"Yes, it's Aymer's name too. And, Christopher, if we were both to give
you everything we possess we could not give you anything we value more
than the name we lend you, so you must be very good to it. Now, Aymer,
I insist on your ringing for Vespasian: the child should have been in
bed hours ago. I must really buy you a book of nursery rules."

Vespasian was apparently of the same mind as Mr. Aston. Disapproval
was plainly expressed on his usually impassive face when he entered.

"Is that Vespasian?" demanded Christopher.

"Yes, and you will have to do just what he tells you, Christopher,
just as I have to," said Aymer severely.

Christopher regarded him doubtfully: he was not quite sure if he were
serious or not. He did not look as if people would tell him to do
things, yet the grave man in black did not smile.

"It's a funny name," he said at last, not meaning to be rude.

"Vespasian was a great general," remarked Aymer, and then added
hastily, seeing the boy's bewilderment increased, "Not this one, the
General's dead, but this is a good second."

"Aymer, you are incorrigible," expostulated Mr. Aston. "Good-night,
little Christopher."

He kissed him and Christopher's eyes grew large with wonder. He did