red colour all over; for his skin appeared to be of delicate texture. He winced at each cut, twisted his hips from side to side, and cried with pain, the tears rolling down his cheeks; but he clenched his teeth, and never once bawled out; nor did he attempt to shield his bottom with his hands. In fact he took his punishment in a plucky manner, considering it was the first time he had felt the sharp sting of a birch.
He was not a coward after all. I told him to rise, adjust his dress, and go to his room; and he got up, standing with his face averted, holding his trousers up with one hand, and brushing the tears from his eyes with the other; then after a moment or two, he buttoned up, and walked out of the room sobbing, with his handkerchief to his face.
I put away the rod, and then went out to make some calls in the neighbourhood. I did not see Frank again until we met at dinner, and as he took his seat opposite to me at the table, he glanced at me shyly, and a deep blush spread over his whole face. As the butler was not in the room at that moment, I said laughingly: “Well, Frank, I suppose you feel a little tender behind. But what are you blushing so for, you young donkey? You are not the first boy who has had a birching. Most boys get a birching occasionally. They require it. I was often birched when I was a boy. It is nothing when you are used to it.”
He gave a little shiver. “Oh, isn’t it,” he said, in a very doubtful sort of way; then went on with his dinner.
I could not help laughing at the way he spoke, but as he appeared to be low and wretched, I gave him a glass of wine. When the meal was over, and I had drawn an easy-chair up to the fire, and lighted my cigar, he came and sat near me in his usual manner, but did not speak; so I chatted to him and rallied him until he brightened up and began to talk. He had not a sulky temper, and he did not appear to bear me any malice.
After being silent a short time, he suddenly asked me, again blushing very red as he spoke: “Do you think that girls are often birched?”
“Not as often as they should be,” I answered, laughing, “but many a girl does get birched by her mother, or governess.”
“Did you ever know of a girl being birched by a man?” was his next question.
“Well, I can’t say I actually know of a girl being birched by a man; but I have often heard that such a thing is by no means uncommon. And I have no doubt that some fathers birch their daughters.”
My answer appeared to have given him a certain amount of satisfaction; and he asked no more questions, but sat staring at the fire, in deep thought. He did not seem inclined to talk much, and he went early to bed.
III
After that everything went on well. Frank for some days was rather shy with me, often blushing when I looked at him; but as time went on he gradually seemed to forget all about the birching, and he became bright, cheerful and quite his old self. He was obedient, and there were no more fits of ill-temper; moreover he studied diligently, being always perfect in his lessons whenever I happened to examine him. Wonderful is the persuasive power of a birch rod, properly applied! A week more passed; then I thought I would run up to town, and spend a few days with a young lady named Maud, who lived in a pretty little villa in St. John’s Wood. The expenses of the establishment were borne by me. Frank was rather disconsolate when I told him I was going away; but he promised to study for three hours every day daring my absence. I committed him to the care of my old housekeeper, Mrs. Evans; a most worthy old lady, who had been at Oakhurst in various capacities for twenty-five years.
Then I drove to Winchester, and caught the afternoon train to London. On my arrival, I put my portmanteau and myself into a hansom, and went straight to the little villa; where I was received with kisses by Maud, to whom I had written the previous day. It is a great mistake for a man to pay a surprise visit to the young lady whose rent he pays.
She gave me a cup of tea in her prettily furnished little drawing-room, and we chatted for a short time; then she went away, returning in half-an-hour dressed well, but quietly, and looking very nice. She was a pretty, plump, little woman, with a lot of fair hair, and soft, brown eyes. She professed to be fond of me, and was, I believe, tolerably faithful. We went out, and had a good dinner with plenty of “fizz” at a West-end restaurant; then we patronized a theatre; had some supper; returned to the villa, and went to bed.
I remained a week at the villa with Maud, and we had a pleasant time; going about all day; dining at various restaurants, and visiting the theatres. I especially enjoyed the nights, revelling in Maud’s naked charms; her bubbles were large, round, and firm, with pretty little, pink nipples; she had a big, plump bottom, and her skin was very white, soft, and smooth; moreover she was a very good poke, and also skilled in all the “arts of love.” I was sorry to have to go back to Oakhurst so soon; but I had a dinner engagement which I did not wish to put off: so I started for Winchester by a morning train, and arrived at home about two o’clock. I was surprised to find that Frank was not in the house to receive me, and after waiting a short time I sat down to lunch, wondering what had become of the boy, and beginning to think that he had been up to some mischief. Just as I had finished lunch, a knock came to the door, and my housekeeper, Mrs. Evans, sailed into the room, gorgeously arrayed in her best black silk dress and white lace cap, with open-work mittens on her hands and a gold chain round her neck. Curtseying to me in the old- fashioned way, she said that she wished to speak to me. I was fond of the good old woman who had been in the house since I was five years old. She had originally come to our family as nurse, and I can quite remember that she used to spank me, and my brothers and sisters, when we were small children. I gave her a chair, saying that I was ready to hear what she had to say.
“It is about Master Francis,” she said, smoothing the folds of her gown.
“I thought so,” said I to myself. She was a verbose old woman, who liked hearing herself talk, so she took some time to tell her story; but I will condense it, and merely relate the main points.
During my absence Frank had behaved well, and given no trouble until that morning, when he had taken it into his head to make a raid upon the store-room and help himself to jam and various other good things. The store- room maid, who had charge of, and was responsible for the things, happening to see the young marauder, remonstrated with him, and told him to leave the room; but he refused to do so, and on her attempting to put him out, he lost his temper, struck her thrice in the face, and pulled down her hair. The woman, who had been somewhat hurt, and a good deal frightened by Frank’s violence, ran crying to the housekeeper, and complained. Frank had been sorry for what he had done, and had apologized to the woman; but she had insisted upon my being told, and so the old lady had been obliged to report the affair to me.
I was much vexed on hearing of his ungentlemanly conduct, and I felt very angry with him. He deserved a flogging, and I meant to give him one. I went to the library, after giving orders that Frank was to be sent to me as soon as he returned to the house.
In about half-an-hour he came into the room and greeted me quietly, but he looked as if he were rather ashamed of himself. He was pale and nervous, and he kept his eyes cast down.
I said: “Frank, I am very sorry to hear how badly you behaved this morning. I should not have taken notice of your pilfering things from the store-room, though that was a contemptible act for a boy of your age: but I am grieved to think that you should have so far forgotten yourself as to strike Jane. It was cowardly and ungentlemanly. I did not think you could have done such a thing. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. I intend to punish you severely. Prepare yourself at once,” I added, getting out the rod. He glanced at it with a look of fear, and a hot flush rose to his cheeks.
“I am ashamed, and very sorry for what I have done. I expected to be punished,” he said in a low voice, his eyes filling with tears, and his lips trembling. Then, without another word, he let down his trousers, and placed himself in position across the end of the sofa.
I rucked his shirt up and began to apply the rod, and as I was angry with him, I laid on the cuts smartly, raising long, red weals all over the surface of his white bottom. He wriggled, writhed, and cried as the stinging strokes of the birch fell with a swishing sound on his plump, firm flesh, striping the skin in all directions; but I went
