“Come here, my dear boy.”
And taking me behind some wagons in the innyard, where we would not be seen, he said—
“Here, we can both piss down this grating.”
And, forsooth, to encourage me, pulled out his own standing pego. I saw what he wanted, and out with my own in all its length and strength.
“Good heavens, Charles, what an immense cock you have got—does it often stand like that?”
“Yes, uncle, every morning it hurts me so until I piddle—it gets worse and worse, and bigger and bigger—it was not half so big a year ago. I don’t know what to do to cure myself of this hardness, which is very painful.”
“Ah, well, I must speak to your aunt, perhaps she can help you. Have you ever spoken to anybody else about it?”
“Oh, dear no! I should have been quite ashamed; but when I saw you also had the same hardness, I was very glad to ask your advice, dear uncle.”
“Quite right. Always consult me about that part of your body, whatever you may feel.”
We breakfasted, and I could see, on regaining the coach, that uncle and aunt had a satisfactory exchange of words on the subject. We got to the Rectory in Kent in time for dinner, at which I was the object of great and devoted attention of both, especially of my aunt.