ckings,--and these girls did. I
asked where they lived, they answered readily. I knew the lane well, all
the washerwomen in the village were there.

In my lewdness I forgot everything but the pleasure of speaking to the
girls. A middle-aged lady passed us accompanied by two or three very
young women, who stared hard at me. The barrow-girls stood up and
curtsied as they passed, and naming them. I knew them, and a few years
before had romped and played with the young ladies, then children.
The last time I had seen them there was not a hair on any one of their
cunts; I expect that now their cunts were full-wigged, and well frigged
into the bargain. They had recognized me, as I heard from my mother
afterwards, I did not recognize them, they having grown from children to
women. I was seated on the barrow-handle as they passed.

"So you wash?" No, their mother did, they ironed, took home, and
fetched the things. What was their name?--would they meet me? and so on.
They would perhaps,--where did I live?--they did not know me. Getting
friendlier and friendlier I learned all about them, it was done in a
joking, chaffing way. I told them I lived far off, and was only on a
visit at a house close by.

They must go on really,--would I get up? No, unless they gave me a kiss.
I chivied one after the other, and caught and kissed both, they were
not difficult to catch. Then they trundled on the barrow, I walking with
them, the people we met (very few) staring at a dandy walking by the
side of two washgirls; but I took no heed then of any one who passed us,
nor cared.

We crossed the high-road into another part of the lane, and again we
stopped; more and more randy got I. "What do you think of, when you
iron the tail of a man's shirt?" "Nothing." "You know it wraps round
something different from that which a chemise does." "Does it?" said
the little one who had twice the cheek of the elder. "Yes,--it makes you
think when you iron them." No it did not,--what did I mean?--they did
not know in the least.

(What delight some girls have in their randiness in declaring they
don't understand a man's baudy chaff, the "What do you mean?" "I don't
understand" are only incitements to the man to declare his meaning in
broad, strong, baudy words; and then it's, "Oh! oh! the beast!" but
their cunts tighten with a squeeze of lust, they go off and think of it
all, and perhaps frig themselves under the recollection. But this is a
reflection the res