One day every door in the house was adorned with an olive garland—a son had been born to its owner. Lycon said that the child should be reared. The father was at liberty to expose or even kill it.
The infant was carried by the midwife around the blazing household altar. Parents, relatives, and even slaves gave it a multitude of presents, principally platagai, children’s rattles.
At the great sacrificial banquet on the tenth day after the boy’s birth, Lycon, to Myrtale’s delight, named the child Simonides.
Lycon took pride in enlarging his dead master’s business, but never commenced any great enterprise without having consulted the clever and experienced Polycles. On the day that the latter completed his sixtieth year, Lycon, to his great joy, gave him the vineyard which, in his opinion, produced the best wine in Thessaly.
This present had cost Lycon more than Polycles ever knew. When he first spoke of it to Myrtale, she eagerly opposed the plan and made many objections.
“Polycles is rich enough,” she said.
“But not too rich to have this gift please him.”
“It is a man’s duty to bequeath what he possesses to his children.”
“It is also a man’s duty to show his gratitude to one who has done him many kindnesses and helped make him prosperous.”
“So you will give Polycles the vineyard?”