we would have a picnic in a suitable glade. Everything for the repast had been sent ahead in a couple of gigs driven by two of the estate servants. Ian and Perdita took one of the Sociables. They had become inseparable. She had managed, possibly by design, to make such a muddle of her arrangements to resume her journey to Scotland that a full week had gone by and she was still with us. Becky and Hannah both decided on Safety bicycles, not wishing to commit themselves to any one partner from the outset. Catherine and Jack, both of whom had a good sense of balance, took a chance on the dangerous tandem bicycle. I had persuaded Cecily to join me on the Invincible. She would sit in front.
This had a number of advantages. It was a stable machine, I would be in charge of the steering and I would have the tantalising sight of Cecily's bottom moving rhythmically just a few inches in front of my nose. The rest of the party made their various selections, except for Rosie who was nowhere to be found. 'We can't wait for her,'
Hannah said. 'She knows where we're going and there is quite a selection of mounts left for her to choose from.' It was a fine day. Northamptonshire was, as promised, flat, so with much laughter and not a little wobbling we set off. 'Put your hand back where it was!' Perdita cried out as she and Ian veered wildly across our path. 'Someone has to steer.' 'Well, you put my member back where it was,' I heard him answer. 'It'll get sun burnt if it is left out exposed to the elements.' 'Is that better,' she said. 'I can keep him covered up with my hand.' The party was in good spirits. I had made the right decision. Cecily's delicious bum was moving seductively from side to side in front of me. Instinctively I peddled faster in order to catch it up while Mr. Pego jutted out like the figurehead of a China clipper ahead of me. Cecily lifted herself from her seat for a moment while she glanced back at me over her shoulder with an enticing smile. 'Andrew, look out where we're going,' she cried out in alarm. So intent had I been on watching her bottom that I had forgotten to steer properly and we were careering across the road towards the ditch. With an effort I redirected my eyes to the road ahead. Yet I could not remain unaware of my companion's rear view.
We overtook Gwendolen and Monty on another Sociable. They were deep in conversation, apparently on the subject of Sin; a subject that had greatly engaged both their intellects and their bodies for the last few days. I could not but notice that a number of her bodice buttons were undone. She had become increasingly careless in matters of dress recently. I took it to be the influence of Perdita who, with her luggage long since delivered to Scotland, had been reduced to borrowing items of clothing from the rest of the party. This had resulted in several unusual ensembles. Only last night she had appeared for dinner dressed in one of Jack's frilled French shirts and nothing else. We had all agreed that the result was absolutely charming. Catherine and Jack, moving as one with balletic grace, were speeding elegantly along. So good was their balance that they could ride hands off like something out of a circus act. Hannah and Becky were weaving in and out of the clustered party. Charlotte, who I had not yet had the chance to do more than talk to, was tandeming with George but each was accusing the other of not putting in their fair share of the pedalling. I suspected that George was not all that well suited to outdoor activities, since they tended to disarrange the perfection of his dress. Suddenly there was a crunching of gravel and a whirring of wheels. Rosie appeared from nowhere at high speed, a blur of activity, peddling an Invincible penny-farthing like a creature demented. Perched up above the huge wheel, she shot passed us. I gasped. Cecily let out a yelp of surprise and we swerved violently into an equally amazed Perdita and Ian. Rosie was riding her mount stark naked! She zigzagged through the party, leaving a trail of chaos behind her. Even Catherine and Jack nearly came to grief. 'Rosie, come back at once,' I called out. 'You're making an exhibition of yourself.' 'But rather a charming exhibition,' said Perdita. 'Don't be too censorious. I know from personal experience how easy it is to lose one's clothes. Anyway, you're too late. She's almost out of earshot already.' True enough. Rosie was dwindling in the distance, her bare bum catching the light as she jounced up and down on her high saddle, her round little titties bobbing and quivering with her efforts. 'Nothing we can do about it,' said Ian. 'Though I fancy she could cause an upset or two out on the public highway.' So we peddled on, all agog to find out what would happen to her. Sure enough, a mile or so later, we found a dog cart half on its side in a ditch with an apoplectic couple scrambling out. 'Did you see that!' the portly driver said. 'A naked woman on a bicycle!' He was staring after her down the road while his wife was hiding her eyes in horror. He looked at us more closely. 'One of your party, I'll be bound. You're the people staying at The Grange. I shall complain to the Authorities.' At this point Monty, who as luck would have it, was wearing his clerical garb, showed commendable presence of mind. 'Poor child. Such a sad case. She is indeed staying with us,' he said to the purple-faced man.
'She has a rare skin complaint and her doctor has recommended the maximum possible exposure to the sun as the only cure. We told her to stay within the confines of the estate but I fear that not knowing the area, she has taken a wrong turning. As soon as we realised what had occurred, we set off in hot pursuit. This lady,' he said indicating Gwendolen, 'is a trained nurse, hired especially to attend to her needs. Please be so good, Sir, as to indicate in which direction she went.' 'Down there,' said the woman, uncovering her eyes.
For a moment doubt was written large on her husband's face, but then he deferred to the authority of a Man of the Cloth. 'I hope you catch her before she does any more harm,' he said. 'My good lady wife has sustained a nasty shock and she is not in the best of health.' Gwendolen pulled herself together and played her part with exemplary self-control. 'My friends will help you out of the ditch,' she said. Then, taking the woman's wrist in her hand, she felt for a pulse. 'Just as I thought,' she went on. 'She needs to be put to bed in a darkened room for at least a day. I doubt that she has come to any lasting harm but if she is not fully recovered by tomorrow evening, you should think of sending for your doctor.' 'The pony has come to no harm either,' volunteered Donald, 'but it also should be put to bed in a darkened stable as a precaution. My father,' he went on, 'is a breeder of Shetland ponies and has some experience in these matters.' There was a choking noise. Cecily was doubled up, fighting back an attack of hysterical laughter. 'A chest condition,' said Monty hurriedly as Cecily wheezed and heaved. 'We are hoping that the dry atmosphere of this pleasant part of the countryside will alleviate the symptoms, otherwise she may have to attend a sanatorium.' 'Yours is not a healthy party,' said the man. 'From London are you?' 'For the most part,' I said.
'Although my friends here are from Scotland.' 'Well I hope you catch your errant friend soon,' he said. 'We don't take kindly to having unclothed women running amok on our country roads, whatever may be the fashion in London.' 'I say that's a bit unfair,' I said.
'And anyway she's from Somerset.' 'You should send her back there, if you want my advice,' he said. 'Please, please,' interjected Monty. 'Let us be charitable. We all partake of the fallen nature of Mankind. And she is not a well woman,' he added hurriedly, remembering his own story. 'You have my Word for it, as a man of God, that if she makes such an error in her navigation again, she will be severely chastised.' 'Chastisement! I like the sound of that word. Chastisement, Sir, is a matter on which we might both agree.
Behaviour such as your friend's, no matter what her medical condition, deserves chastisement. A sound thrashing! That is what she needs. That will drive the Devil out of her.' A curious glint had appeared in his eyes. His manner of speech was becoming increasingly agitated while the palms of his hands and his forehead had become visibly moist. 'Mark my words,' he went on. 'There is no other way.
Chastise the Sinner and the Backslider! I have lived all my life according to that creed. Why, only recently one of the more wayward girls of the village was made to feel the full force of my hand upon the seat of her Corruption. If the Lord had not intended the Godfearing man to administer manual correction to the parts of the Sinner, he would not have invented the backside to be the object of such attentions. 'Depravity and Filth! They are all about us. We live in the midst of great bubbling cess pits of Wickedness and Lewd behaviour. Naked Sin comes flooding in-or in this case pedalling in-on us. These Evils must be withstood. The Sinner must be beaten down, driven to her knees in penitence. I at least know my duty. My wife here will bear witness to the fact that I have been ever untiring in seeking out and chastising the Wrongdoer, fearless in my corrective efforts upon the flaunted fundaments of vileness!' 'Yes dear,' said his wife, handing him a handkerchief to wipe away the flecks of spittle that were flying from his lips and running down his chin.
'Depravity and Filth! Filth and Depravity! They must be driven out. The blows of our retribution must rain down on the rumps of the Ungodly!' Becoming dangerously choleric, he raised his right hand high and brought it down with a stinging slap on the hindquarters of his pony. The startled beast snorted, reared up and then bolted down the road. The stout gentleman's wife who was back on board the gig, tumbled backwards off her seat, her legs waving frantically.
'Come back, Dammit!' shouted the Hammer of the Evildoer, but to no avail. Pony, wife and equipage were fast disappearing out of sight down the lane. 'Quick,' said Monty. 'We must catch them before they come to harm. Gwendolen you stay here. Jump on, Sir, and pedal.'
