came out and said, "Harriet is very unwell Maam, can you give her a
little brandy?" I had no fuck that night. The next night she began about
the baker. I would answer nothing. She said, "If I have had him it's my
affair; at all events it's an insult to a woman whom you never gave the
slightest present to yet."

I was struck with that. My allowance was due, and I took her home some
article of jewelry. She made me for the ensuing week fuck her till I
was as dry as a bone, and my very arse-hole ached the last time I did
it,--it was the day before my mother returned. She sat on the side of
my bed and frigged me for a quarter of an hour before she got it stiff,
saying that I did not seem to like her as I used to.

My mother and sister came back. I never got a poke for a fortnight. When
mother returned nothing would get it out of her head, that I had not
been out late of night; it never _could_ be got out of her head that it
was late at night that did the harm. Not being able to get Harriet now,
I waited for her one night as she went to the library. As I got near a
wall by our house, I saw a man and a woman standing close up against it
together; the man went away directly I approached, and I saw Harriet.
"There was a man with you?" said I. "Yes," said she, "it was the baker,
whom you have heard such stories about, I am going to marry him." I
pulled up her clothes, and to my surprise she resisted, for the first
time saying, "I want to piddle," which she did, and then I had her. Her
height made an uprighter easy, her quim did not seem to need so much
wetting as usual.

A day or two after this event I came home, my deaf relative opened the
door. Finding that she was laying the cloth, I asked, "Where is the
servant?" My mother said, she had turned both the hussies away, and
the people who gave their characters ought to be prosecuted. With heart
beating I asked what was the matter. "It's not needful for you to
know," she replied, "they are a bad couple." I saw at once I was not
implicated, so asked no more, nor did I ever see them again; though
about ten years after, I met in the streets a tall gaunt haggard woman
who stared at me, and I think it was Harriet.

For some years this episode seemed a funny one, especially the cook's
uncunting me just as I began to spend, but of course I know now why she
did it, or fancy I do.

Her inciting me to get Harriet also astonished me, but I have since
found girls anxious to get others i