" Well, if we' re going to play married, you have to take your pants off! I' ll take mine off!"

And suiting action to word, with perfect sangfroid and without the least embarrassment she raised her dress and unfastened the garment to which she had referred. It slid down her legs and was kicked off to one side. I got up and began fumbling with my own buttons. My fingers were numb and torpid and it was an interminable length of time before I got my trousers and underwear off. And now I became aware of an embarrassing condition which further contributed to my confusion. One which two or three subsequent occasions in my life made itself apparent much to my mortification and disgust.

Something which on countless occasions had risen valiantly at the mere thought of seeing Flora naked and which had been standing up manfully while we were arranging the nest, now failed me treacherously and was hanging with its head down in the most listless and dejected attitude possible to imagine. Flora gazed at it a moment and exclaimed:

" Why, your dickie isn' t stiff yet!"

There was no denying this allegation, and I remained silent. However, she evidently regarded the condition as amenable to correction, and with worldly wisdom, added:

" Look at me between the legs and it will get stiff!"

So saying, she lifted her dress and separating her thighs, arched her body outward to that her little cleft was exposed in all its juvenile nudity.

What were my emotions, as I stared wide- eyed at that tiny portion of feminine anatomy which had so long intrigued my imagination, and on which I was now gazing for the first time in actually? Too mixed and confused to render description possible.