Miss Birch, with heaving bosom, and quite a deep blush upon her face.—“I feel as ashamed at baring her naughty posteriors as if I was going to suffer the degradation and humiliation myself, but come, Lucille dear, you must bear it, and I hope [12] ]you will be a better and more diligent girl in future.” Then catching me by the wrist, as I stood by her side covered with confusion, she tried to lay me across her knees, but I struggled and screamed, “No! No!! No!!! I won’t be whipped! Oh! Oh!! dear papa, do forgive me this time!” my face quite crimson and streaming with tears.
Papa, having got out the rod, a fine switch of long thin birch twigs, tied up with velvet and silk ribbons at the handle,—“Come! Come!! Lucille, this resistance will only make it worse for you.” As he seized and threw me on the governess’s lap, Miss Birch securing my head well under her left arm, speedily pulled up dress and skirts, till my fat little bottom was exposed in a tight fitting pair of drawers, my legs being left to kick about, although I was quite firmly secured, and to all intents quite helpless, and my toes could scarcely touch the ground.
[13]
] I could hear papa whisking the birch about, and then he said, “That will do famously, Miss Birch, keep her head and shoulders well down as you hold up her skirts; much as I pity my darling little Lucille, I must do my duty and make her smart for her idleness in school.”
My face was burning hot with the deep blushes of shame, and I struggled desperately to free my head from the vice-like pressure of Miss Birch’s arm, as I begged with piteous sobs to be let off for this once. “Oh! dear papa! Oh! pray don’t beat me!”
Papa.—“Indeed, I must, though every blow will send a pang to my own heart, you naughty, bad, inattentive girl, all this has come by your great idleness, and trusting too much to the kind heart of your governess.” As he said this, three sharp stinging cuts whacked on my tight-fitting drawers in quick succession.
The pain was intense, I kicked, writhed and screamed for “Mercy! Mercy! Oh! [14] ]Oh!! I will be good! Oh! Papa! Oh, Miss Birch, do let me go!”
Papa, in quite an excited tone, (for I could see nothing), “So you mean to be good in future! Do you feel the birch is doing you good already? Ha! ha!! my little Lucille, you must have a little more yet to make a perfect cure of your
idleness.” Whack—whack—whack—whack—four more cuts, each one more agonizing than the last, in spite of my sobbing and screaming. “Now, Miss Birch,” he continued, “let her feel it on the bare flesh, open her drawers so we can see the effects of the cuts.”
This was at once done, as I cried, “Ah! Ah!! No! No!! Oh, Papa! How cruel!”
Papa.—“