RELUCTANT PRESS

"You are certainly going to give it up," she said in a voice that brooked no shilly-shallying with the eschewing of the weed. "My psychiatrist friend, Mildred Palmer, she's a doctor you know, avers that this is a wonderful aid to giving it up."

So saying, she dipped the dummy into a bottle of sweet syrup she had in her other hand and popped it into my mouth.

"Now, I'm just going downstairs and will be back in three minutes with our elevenses."

She reappeared at the stroke of eleven with a tea tray in her hands. Her own tea had already been poured and Candardled (a sweetner).

"This place is like a little bit of heaven, Auntie," I crooned. "And you are the sunshine of my life," she responded fondly. "I am going to do so many things with you in this next fortnight things to you, things with you, things together. Let me show you some of the stuff I have bought.

She made her way to the now magical dressing-table and returned with two more rompers, both in a bright floral. But what made my heart miss a beat were two of the cutest little pinafore frocks you have ever seen. She held them up for my inspection and I could feel myself beginning to throb.

"Darling, you may think me quite mad to have bought these, but like with the beauty box of tricks, I found them quite irresistible, and dressing up little girls in pretty things is so dear to most women's hearts and YOU are my dearest dear... and so... I thought..."

Her voice trailed away as she stood looking at me with her head slightly to one side.

"You are going to let me indulge myself, aren't you? And they come with these frilly little knickers, socks and buttonover shoes."

In the meantime, I was just about swooning with ecstasy. It was just as well I was lying down with the quilt over me. "Why, lovie, I do believe you are trembling. Do you find what I have said all that upsetting?

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JOYCE'S GIRLS BY JOYCE

"No, Auntie, I find all of it that exciting. It makes me go all weak at the knees," I gasped with complete and utter honesty.

"Then we ARE in clover then," she chirruped gleefully.

"And can I have a session with the beauty box too?" I asked breathlessly and needlessly.

"Darling, that was the whole idea! Why do you think I bought it, you silly little goose?"

"Oh Auntie," I sighed.

"I think it's time for a nice little nap before lunch, dear. You have to get your strength back."

Excited as I was, the bottle had had a soporific effect on me. I remember, as I drowsed off, wondering if there hadn't been some sort of narcotic in the milk.

MAYBE, maybe, maybe...

****

I awoke to Auntie feeling to see if the diaper was wet. It wasn't, of course. I felt I could hardly have indulged her fantasy to that extent, but even had I crapped into the nappy I am quite sure she would have handled it with unblinking aplomb and even satisfaction. But alas, an eighteen year old's stools are not the same as infant faecal puree.

Her own fantasies and, for heaven's sake, we were also heavily encumbered with our own! were indulged to the extent that I was given some sort of infant puree for lunch, of very dubious color, which she fed to me with a spoon. She, between my own mouthfuls, got stuck into a crumbed pork chop.

Strong as Auntie is, I protested.

"Auntie, dear, I can eat normal food, you know," I expostulated plaintively.

"Oh no, you can't, not after that big operation you have just had. I am here to look after you; you need things that are easily digestible, my little love."

In spite of the endearment, there was an unmistakable Lady Brackneil edge to her voice, so I merely mentally con-

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