Before I had concluded many chapters I arose from the hammock, sought the amp;e›-elusion of my room, and lay down on the bed to continue the story. Soon I was obliged to unfasten the front of my trousers for comfort. Shortly thereafter I was holding the book in one hand, and masturbating myself with the other. The necessity of being at the dinner table interrupted me before I had finished the story, and tucking the book under the mattress of the bed, I went downstairs. Later, pleading a headache as an excuse for early retirement, I returned to my room. Before I turned out the light that night I had read the book from cover to cover. And incidentally had jacked myself off three times.

This orgy of masturbation, instead of calming my nerves seemed to have just the contrary effect, and throwing discretion to the winds, I resolved to force an issue with the dairy woman's daughter. I had dealt with girls before whose real, or simulated objections to intimate relations had been vanquished by bold and forceful methods and, though this girl's attitude toward me was rather at variance with anything previously experienced, I decided to adopt a course involving more action and less talk with her. Maybe that was what the sly little minx was — waiting for.

Through more or less clandestine observation, I had learned something of her habits and knew that at about four o'clock each afternoon she made the jround of the barns and stables to gather up eggs which the hens, allowed to run at large, deposited in obscure nooks and corners. In one of the stables there was a loft in which a reserve supply of loose hay was stored. I had seen her going up the stairs to this loft and it was in this ideally situated and "furnished" retreat I planned to waylay her.

And so, pulses beating in optimistic anticipation of carnal intimacies with her, I waited the opportune moment and when she entered the building that afternoon I was close at her heels.