Phaeton, the son of the nymph Clymene, was very proud of his mother's beauty, and used to boast of it greatly to his playmates. Tired of the boy's bragging and conceit, one of his friends said to him one day:
"You're very willing to talk about your mother, but I notice you never speak of your father. Are you ashamed of him?"
"No, I'm not," replied Phaethon, trying to look unabashed.
"Well, then, tell us about him. If he were anything great, you would be willing enough to brag about him."
And because Phaethon kept quiet, all of his playmates began to jeer at him, cruelly enough.
"You don't know your father. You've never seen him," they cried.
Phaethon would not cry before them, but there were tears of shame and anger in his eyes as he told the story to his mother.
"Never mind, my boy," she said soothingly, "To-morrow you shall tell them the name of your father, and that will stop their taunts. Come, let me whisper it to you."
When Phaethon heard what she had to tell him, his eyes shone with joy and pride, and he could scarce wait for morning to carry his news to his mocking friends. He was first at the meeting-place, but he would say nothing until all his playmates were gathered. Then he said, quietly, but O, so proudly:
"My father is Apollo, the sun-god!"