'I seen to the polishing of the silver, m'am, and had the conservatory got in order', Johnson replied glibly, though Letitia knew as well as he that he would not dare cross die head gardener in the matter of the conservatory.

'Indeed? How nice', she said vaguely and, at a polite wave of his hand, seated herself on a stout wooden chair with a cushion. The back of the chair sloped and allowed her to rest back with her neatly-shod feet planted apart on the grey-carpeted floor.

'With your permission, m'am, seeing as how you 'ave been courteous enough to visit my 'umble quarters', Johnson said. Lifting a bottle, he waved it enquiringly, received a benign nod from Letitia, and filled two glasses with port- a good ruby port which Easton had donated to him for 'occasions'.

Placing Letitia's glass gravely in her hand, he stood back, legs straddled, showing two remarkable bulges in his blue velveteen breeches-the one revealing the gross stem of his prick, and the other the twin plums of his balls. It was perhaps a compliment to her, Letitia considered, that his manhood was always erect when she attended on him.

'You were, I believe, telling me the story of your life, Johnson', she said, quaffing deeply of the port in an unladylike but ready manner which brought a creasing of pleasure to his eyes.

'Those recreations as what I were telling you about, m'am? Daring to use such terms as must spring to my lips, as the master says, there's many a young girl I have threaded around these parts. Tupping them, we calls it. Some rare harvest times we've 'ad, I tell yer that. At the full moon, and a glorious sight it is, the women and the girls-daughters, nieces, cousins, be they what they may-all belongs to the men by right of age-old custom, you see. Age-old the custom is, like rites they calls it'.

'They do indeed', Letitia replied. Her tongue licked across her upper lip, removing a brief sparkle of port.-'Last harvest time, Johnson, you promised that I might see such, er, revels', she added reprovingly.