[5]. I am happy to say that this pernicious family is now completely extinct.
“Oh, father,” I cried, “father,” and though he had misinterpreted my convulsions, I shall never forget the tenderness with which he signalled to my mother to fetch a basin as quickly as possible. Nor was he less sympathetic when I had succeeded in convincing him that my paroxysms were spiritual rather than gastric, for smoothing my hair with his unoccupied hand, he at once readjusted my head to its former position.
“My poor boy,” he said, “my poor Augustus. Tell me what’s happened. Take your time. There, there now. I’ve sent your mother away. But she’s left the basin here in case.”
“Oh, sin,” I cried, “sin—unbelievable sin in Greenwich Park.”
I felt my father’s abdomen give a violent heave.
“In Greenwich Park?” he asked. “Never?”
“Oh, yes,” I cried, “yes. Would that it were no. But it was not no.”
My father bent over me, patting my head.
“My poor boy,” he said. “What sort of sin?”
“Oh, the worst,” I said, “the worst. It was Mr. Lorton and Mrs. Chrysostom.”