“In fact,” said Mr. Lorton, “I think something could be done.”
My father bowed again. He was no longer smiling. I had seldom, indeed, seen him look so grave.
“For the sake of your school,” he said, “to say nothing of your soul, and for the sake of your brother’s business, I sincerely hope so.”
“Oh, I think so,” said Mr. Lorton, “I think so. Now, let me see. How could I be most helpful?”
My father cleared his throat.
“Deeply as I am inclined,” he said, “to expose this iniquity to the uttermost, and irreparable as has been its injury to my son’s sensibilities, I am yet prepared to concede you the opportunity of retaining at least the semblance of your good name. But for my son I must claim every guarantee. Upon my son’s future your own is dependent.”
I dare not record that Mr. Lorton smiled. Let me rather say that he exposed his incisors.
“Dear Augustus,” he said, “I’m sure he’ll succeed. I’ll send a line to my brother’s wife.”
My father’s expression never changed.
“Do you apprehend then,” he inquired, “that she can secure him the requisite position?”