Mr. Mortimer, I don't mind letting you into the
secret, but the fact is every time I think of the old rascal's
indecency it makes my cock stand, but you must not tell a soul what I
now tell you."

"All right, go on, old fellow, just a drop more brandy to encourage
your bashfulness, eh!" laughed Frank.

Thomas, wiping his mouth after a good swig at the brandy and water:
"Well, sirs, that righteous old sinner, as an Irishman would say, began
by asking me questions about who made me. If I knew there was a God and
a Devil. Then about the world and the flesh, and so on, a lot of
rubbish out of the church prayerbook. 'You know, Thomas, my boy,' he
said, 'that the "flesh" means having to do with girls and other dirty
indecent things which come into the heads of rude boys. Now tell me if
you ever did anything of that kind with other boys or girls?'

"This was rather a poser for me. I didn't like to tell a downright lie
and knew I had been a party to one or two little games of that sort,
such as we used to do in the hayfield, throwing the girls down, turning
up their clothes, and showing them our cocks, which no doubt the old
rascal knew. I could feel my face was turning quite red with confusion.
'Ha, I see what it is, Thomas! I must thoroughly examine you and tell
by the look of your penis' (that is the word I think he used, but you
know he meant my cock), as he ordered me to unbutton and show him my
privates, and he would soon tell if I had been up to any of the Devil's
wickedness.

"As soon as I was exposed to him he told me to draw the skin of my cock
back, which I did.

"'Do it again, my boy, there now, again--two or three times mind.'

"Then I expect he saw slight signs of a rise, saying, 'Do it
quicker--quicker, boy' till I had the horn quite stiff.

"'My gracious! You're finely grown for your age, Thomas. Now did you
never show that to a gal?'

"'Well, sir,' I said, rather shamefaced at what he was making me do, 'I
did once, but only once, sir, and Polly Jones felt it with her hand,
and let me feel what her cock was like, too.'

"'Fine goings on in my parish, 'pon my word, Thomas, but what sort a
thing had she got? Because you know gals have nothing like this,' he
said, taking hold of my standing prick.

"'She'd--she'd only a little crack, sir,' I replied. 'Pray let me go
now, sir, I don't like it.' He was regularly frigging me.

"'Silly boy, here's a half-crown to keep quiet, if you let me handle it
a bit