Eveline

never overcome her antipathy for her only daughter. Sir Edward, however, had a distinct desire to have me at home. It was to him I owed my emancipation. My sympathy was all for him. I shared his desire to meet again after so long an absence.

Sir Edward was absent shooting in the North when I arrived. My mother was suffering, so she informed me, from rheumatism. She kept to her room. My time did not hang too heavily on my hands for all that. I had plenty of liberty. The carriage was at my disposal. We were rich. The house was commodious. The servants were numerous and well paid. They were evidently overjoyed to welcome me to my home, and have someone to break the monotony of their existence.

I very soon began to discriminate among them. There was the senior footman, John Parker, who was particularly polite and attentive to me. My mother preferred to take her meals in her own room upstairs. I dined all alone, save when I invited a young friend of my own age to share my meal. On the occasions when I was quite by myself, John would venture to suggest various choice portions from the dishes set before me. He cut and arranged them on my plate. He interested me. He was a man of some eight and thirty, not very tall for a footman, but stout and broad. I thought in my ignorance he was magnificent in his handsome livery, with his gold garters, black silk stockings and his crimson plush breeches. He made a great impression on me. I suppose I showed my interest in him too plainly. He soon became more attentive, more subservient-more familiar.

'How long have you been here, John?'

From the first I could never bring myself to call him Parker.

'Three years, miss, come Christmas.'

'You must find it very dull now that Sir Edward is away and Mr. Percy is in Canada. I expect you have gay times downstairs, when your work is over in here.'

'Well, miss, not so much. The others are not a very gay lot and the cook goes out when the work is done. The girls both sit upstairs with my lady's own maid. Now you're here, miss, if I may be allowed to say so, the house is not at all the same. It seems quite lively-at least to me, miss.'

'Where is my maid, John? She has not brought my shoes. I cannot bear these boots any longer, I am tired.'

'Mary is upstairs, miss, shall I call her?'

'No, John, if you will be so good as to undo these laces, I can sit more comfortably at the table.'

I pushed out my foot. I placed it on a stool. John stooped over it. He began to fumble at the knot. His hand trembled.

'I am afraid, John, you are not quite a lady's maid, but I think you are very nice all the same.'

John chuckled. I gave a little kick out with my foot. It touched his plush breeches.

'Oh, you hurt me, John-no-not your knuckles-it's the lace at the back of the instep-see here-

He took my foot in his hand. He touched my ankle.

'It's just there, John, please rub it a little.'

John set to work to rub the ankle. As he rubbed, I swayed my foot backwards and forwards upon his plush breeches. Something hard seemed to grow up under my foot.

'What have you got in your pocket, John? Is it a flute?'

'No, miss, I am not musical. I don't play any instrument.'

The man blushed scarlet as his breeches, and seemed quite confused.

'It feels exactly like one, John, and it gets bigger and bigger.'

I pushed my little kid boot into closer contact with the thing. John's hand was now resting on my calf, and my black silk stocking evidently delighted him, for he made any and all pretenses in order to linger where he was.

I put on my most innocent and childish air.

'Do all men have those things there, John? The girls at school told me lots about them.'

'I don't know, miss. I suppose so. I-really! Miss! I'm afraid someone may come.'

'Don't be alarmed, John, no one will come. I want to feel it.'

'Good Lord! Miss-if they should know-if I am found out I shall lose my place.'

'But you won't tell, John, will you?'

'Oh dear, no miss! But you might let it out unawares-like.'

I sprang forward. I seized the object in his red plush breeches with my hand. John stood quite still and breathed hard.

'Good Lord, miss! If they come, if we're found out!'

'They are all upstairs-we are alone. I must feel it. I know what it is, John. My goodness! How it throbs-how big it is getting now-let me feel it.'

The footman submitted with a good grace. It was clear he was by no means unwilling. He evidently enjoyed my fingering. I slyly undid the corner button of his flap. I audaciously slipped my hand in. I ran it quickly down his belly. I encountered his nice clean shirt all warm. Then my hand fastened on his limb. I pulled away his shirt. I grasped his naked member. It felt very fat and thick. It was still stiffening. I gave it a sudden twist. It stood up now against his belly.

'Is that nice, John?'

'Good Lord! Yes, miss, it's heavenly, but I'm afraid we may be caught at it.'

He appeared to have an enormous limb, not so long as the horrid concierge, but very thick and strong. I managed to pull back the skin. I felt a big soft, beautiful knob on the end. He turned towards me. He favored my toying by thrusting and grinding at my palm, but the space was too confined to enable me to stroke it as I liked.

Just then the front door bell rang.

I withdrew my hand. John buttoned up. The next minute he was opening the door with the grand air of a butler who could crush the comer with a glance.

I set to work to scheme a way to arrive at the sum of my desires. There are some things one must do for oneself. I nerved myself for the occasion. I went to a quiet street in Soho. I had noted a second-rate shop which was fitted up as an apothecary's-as we say in London, chemist and druggist. I entered. I had chosen the quiet time in the early afternoon. No one was in the shop. A good-looking, fair-haired young man advanced from the back room.

'Good morning. I want a syringe-a female syringe; show me some of your best.'

'Certainly, miss, please to step this way.'

He led me to the further end of the counter. He produced from a drawer a number of the articles in question.

'These are all good, but this pattern is the one we specially recommend. It is of vulcanite. It cannot break, or do any mischief.'

I looked them over with a professional air.

'Yes, you are right. I will take the one you recommend.'

Probably he saw I was a little awkward in handling the thing. I looked him in the face with a smile. His eyes sparkled.

'Do you understand how it should be applied, miss?'

'Well not properly, perhaps.'

He smiled this time. I laughed softly.

'How do you fill it, and with what?'

'We have a detergent always made up, miss. If you will wait a moment, I will get some water and explain the action.'

I nodded gently. He went into the back room. In a few moments he returned.

'Please come in here, I can show you how it works.'

I followed the good-looking, fair young man. He filled the syringe with water, and squirted it out again into a basin.

'You should always wipe it after use and return it nicely to its case-thus.'

I laughed again softly.

The young man laughed also. I was wicked enough to encourage his hilarity. He evidently took me for a representative member of a class to which I had not the honor to belong. I determined to humor him. He grew more familiar.