Art had been puzzled by the photo of the previous year’s boy counsellors in the brochure sent by Mrs Connelly, the same brochure he and Leo had looked at before they came to the summer camp. Art couldn’t quite put his finger on the reason his predecessors looked so uncomfortable in the picture, but it was worrying him. When Mrs Connelly casually mentioned the ‘Health and Welfare Classes’, classes Art had seen referred to in the brochure, Art began to sense there was another function of the boys’ summer camp that he and Leo had not been made aware of.
“Maybe if they’d told us what it was all about we wouldn’t have signed up for it,” he thought to himself the first night as he lay in his bunk listening to Leo groaning as he masturbated in the bunk below.
“There’s something fishy about the whole set-up,” he told himself, “Why did Mrs Connelly want the girls to leave me with some pubic hair? And what’s all this about wearing loincloths? And the girl counsellors… what’s all that about? And these ‘Health and Welfare Classes’...?”
There was a loud grunt from below as Leo sprayed cum all over his chest.
Art was too occupied trying to figure out what was going on at the summer camp to masturbate properly. Instead he drifted off to sleep holding his softening penis.
As it turned out Art was correct in deducing that there was more to the boys’ summer camp than met the eye. Mrs Connelly had a well deserved reputation for helping boys come to terms with the transitional period of puberty. She knew that most mothers of young boys found the long summer holidays burdensome, particularly if they were working mums. It was generally accepted among mothers that boys, particularly during puberty, couldn’t be left unsupervised. There was also the tricky subject of masturbation which needed to be properly addressed, something that not all mothers were able to manage successfully.
Mrs Connelly’s summer camps offered the ideal place in which boys could be organised and controlled while they were trained to resist the urge to constantly play with themselves. In order to minimise clothing, as well as the advantages to be gained from the health benefits of lots of sun and fresh air, Mrs Connelly came up with the idea of a Red Indian themed summer camp at which all boys would be required to wear the traditional clothing of the redskin native (well, Mrs Connelly’s interpretation of course). She knew that pretty well all healthy young boys within the age group of her ‘happy campers’ would relish the opportunity to play Red Indian themed games. Running themselves ragged during a full day of supervised activities would also help keep the problem of boyish nocturnal ‘games’ under control.
Word soon got round the mothers’ grapevine about Mrs Connelly’s summer camp and it wasn’t long before each season saw her Red Indian Camp fully booked. For the younger boys it was as close to a paradise on earth as they were ever likely to see. The only flies in the ointment were the girls who acted as counsellors. If these younger boys had their way they’d carry on playing, hiking and swimming until they dropped, exhausted to the ground. It was the girls’ job to make sure these boys had plenty of time for rest as well as play. They also were under strict instructions to make sure the boys were scrubbed clean and presentable for mealtimes. Tin baths were hanging up on an outside wall of the bunkhouse for this very purpose.
For older boys things were a little different. Boys over thirteen were often sent to the Red Indian summer camp for reasons, other than that of getting plenty of fresh air and exercise. Mrs Connelly long ago realised that during the long summer months spent at camp boys would have certain natural urges that would need to be dealt with on a regular basis. It shouldn’t be too much of a surprise for you to be told the summer camp was a place in which boys’ ‘playfulness’ was the subject of no-nonsense supervision, indeed control of these, some would say ‘natural’ urges, was the very reason mums sent their little treasures to Mrs Connelly in the first place. Word had definitely got round that masturbation was kept very firmly under control at Mrs Connelly’s Red Indian summer camps.
During the evening before the first arrivals at the summer camp Mrs Connelly called together the girl and boy counsellors for a talk to explain their duties. Mrs Connelly was never one to beat about the bush when explaining her requirements, so Art and Leo were both shocked and horrified when she began to tell them how they were expected to behave.
In front of the girls Mrs Connelly calmly told the boys: “The reason a lot of boys are sent to my summer camp is because they have been caught masturbating… some of them masturbating excessively, while others have even become chronic masturbators. Your primary duty as my boy counsellors is to ensure the boys in your charge behave themselves. You will not allow them to indulge in self-abuse. Furthermore you will set these boys an example by desisting from masturbation yourselves… I suggest that you explain to them how masturbation was ruining your athletic performance - perfectly true for both of you - and for that reason you stopped masturbating…”
“The boys that come to the summer camp are at an age at which they will look up to and emulate you older boys. I fully expect you both of you to abide by the requirement to desist from masturbating for the entire duration of your stay here. That shouldn’t be too difficult if you stop to consider the repercussions should you fall short of my expectations… Your mother would be most upset to hear that I have had to let you go, Leo… don’t look so surprised, the letter from your mother’s friend was most informative as to your situation. I know that Art will sensible enough to help you curb your inclinations, as I’m sure that he is keen not to have certain aspects of your youthful relationship made known…”
These words were accompanied by much whispering among the girls and stunned, red-faced, open-mouthed silence from the boys.
It was of course plain, bare-faced blackmail and the reason no sensible older boys volunteered to work as counsellors. Mrs Connelly always managed to get some embarrassing information about the boys that helped her to ‘persuade’ them to fall in line with her methods of masturbation control.
The mouths of both Art and Leo fell open. Art knew they were stuffed. There was no denying Mrs Connelly had the upper hand. But Art knew that Leo would scuffle about trying to find a way out of their plight. It would be up to Art to make sure Leo didn’t do anything stupid. ‘Fat chance,’ he thought, but he had to try.
But there was another bombshell from Mrs Connelly: “Now I don’t expect you boys to last the entire summer without… how shall I put it, relieving the inevitable build-up of certain bodily fluids…”
Leo was puzzled, but Art had an inkling of what Mrs Connelly was going to say.
“... during the Health and Welfare Classes for the older boys, in which category you are both included, the girl counsellors will demonstrate clinical milking procedures…”
Art could help but gulp red-faced: “You mean…?”
“Yes, I will be training the girls… it will be very much ‘hands-on’.” Mrs Connelly rarely joked about anything as serious as boyhood masturbation, but this was one joke even she found difficult to resist.
Leo grinned. The penny had finally dropped: “Wicked!” he blurted out. As far as Leo was concerned it was simply going to save him from developing enormous wrist and forearm muscles.
oooOooo
When Mrs Harper found out about Mrs Connelly’s Red Indian Summer Camp for Boys it was the answer to her prayers. She had been looking after Christopher, a neighbour’s fourteen year old son who had managed to lock himself out of his parent’s house after they had left for urgent business reasons. Locking himself out might not have been too serious if it was not for the fact that Christopher had no clothes on. He was in fact left totally nude after playing a silly game. Janet Harper had been more than happy to look after Christopher while his parents were away. Admittedly it had been short notice, but what are neighbourhood friends for if not to help out when needed? Christopher had at least been able to don a Red Indian play outfit to participate in games of Cowboys and Indians organised by Mrs Harper’s ten year old son, Terry, although the loincloth never seemed to stay on for very long after Christopher was captured by the cowboys. Christopher also soon found that wearing a flimsy buckskin loincloth was not at all like wearing the proper play-clothes that he’d been used to, since a boy had to be very careful to stop the flaps from flying about and revealing rather more than a boy would like to see revealed.
Christopher’s parents had been due to arrive back any day soon, but for reasons Mrs Harper couldn’t quite fathom their return had had to be postponed. Could she look after Christopher for a little longer? Well frankly, no she should could not. Obviously she would if she’d been able to, but family commitments prevented her from so doing. So now Mrs Harper needed someone else to take care of Christopher. Fortuitously she heard about Mrs Connelly’s summer camp and got Christopher’s parents to agree he could be sent there. In passing she happened to mention this to Mrs Park, Francis’ mother, that Christopher was going to Mrs Connelly’s camp.
“What a splendid idea!” Mrs Parks enthused, “Francis can go along too. Those two boys have been getting famously and I’m sure they’ll be glad of each other’s company…”
Everything seemed to fall into place when Wendy, Francis’ very understanding girlfriend, offered to drive the boys to the camp. Wendy and Mrs Parks had got on like a house on fire ever since the day Wendy had called at her boyfriend’s house and found him dressed in a ridiculously small Red Indian play costume. Francis was nearly seventeen. Instead of being annoyed at his infantile behaviour, Wendy was charmed and thought Francis looked so cute, particularly when she saw that his young friend, Christopher was wearing a similar outfit. The two boys standing side by side looked adorable she thought, but when she discovered there was a significant difference between the boys’ costumes, her delight knew no bounds.
Wendy gasped when she found out the boys had swapped outfits and that Francis was wearing a tenderfoot loincloth… well, she actually gasped when it was explained to her how the tenderfoot loincloth had no rear flap. But let’s be honest, the rear flap on these play costumes hardly covered anything anyway. The strip of buckskin was thinner and shorter than the one at the front and of course the natural curves of a boy’s bottom meant that it what little of it there was simply dangled in mid-air.
Later that same afternoon Wendy had made another fascinating discovery, this time in the garden of Mrs Park’s house, more particularly among the overgrown patch of bamboo at the bottom of the garden. There she saw her gorgeous, loincloth clad boyfriend hiding in the shrubbery masturbating. She could see Christopher move and say something to Francis who was in the very act of ejaculating. Wendy watched amused as the gooey mess splattered over Christopher’s tummy and legs, before she stepped forward to let her now horrified boyfriend know how she had seen everything. It seemed to Wendy that Francis was more concerned about his mother finding out what he’d been up to than the undoubted humiliation of being caught masturbating by his girlfriend. Understanding how Francis was caught, excuse the expression, between a rock and a hard place, Wendy assured the nervous boy she would say nothing to his mother.
What girl wouldn’t use this state of affairs to her her advantage? As it happens Wendy’s needs were modest. She was perfectly happy to put her own interpretation on how Francis came to be playing games of Cowboys and Indians with boys a lot younger than himself. Wendy decided to ‘indulge’ her boyfriend and treat it as though he wanted to play dressed in a Red Indian costume which included an eye-wateringly small loincloth. She understood that Francis would have to have a reason for indulging his ‘passion’ for dressing up as a Red Indian. That reason was obvious, Wendy realised. Francis, the noblest of teenagers, wanted to help Christopher, who was himself already a little too old to be see playing little boy games. Wendy began to construct a narrative that would see Francis wearing his little Red Indian outfit at every opportunity.
Christopher, as we have seen, had very little choice but to wear a Red Indian costume, since the alternative was total nudity. Wendy’s view saw that Francis was behaving in a generous and considerate manner in befriending the younger boy, Christopher. Her ‘interpretation’ was that her boyfriend was dressing up in the ridiculous play outfit to make Christopher feel better about his situation, although she was well aware of the truth, that Francis had been made to wear the Red Indian outfit by his younger sisters encouraged by his mother. At every opportunity Wendy, having decided Francis was wearing this absurdly revealing costume of his own free will, would praise him and the fact that a boy of sixteen was prepared to run about almost naked for the sake of friendship. This was an act of kindness that Wendy was determined to support. The fact that Wendy found Francis’ continuing humiliation a source of delight was of course neither here nor there.
Much to Francis’ embarrassment Wendy, with a straight face, had told Mrs Parks all about the fancy dress party she, Francis and Christopher had attended. Once more Wendy had put her own particular spin on events, giving the impression that Francis actually wanted to go to the party once he realised that it would help Christopher to enjoy himself. Mrs Parks didn’t believe a word of this. She knew how self-centred Francis was, but she enjoyed Wendy’s light-hearted deception and so was happy to go along with what was said.
“It was quite by accident,” Wendy explained, “It was only because the boys were wearing their Red Indian outfits that Jill, the girl at the petrol station, mentioned how she’d only just that minute seen some other boys dressed up in lederhosen and then this nice lady, Mildred Lake, had pulled up with her two children who told me about the fancy dress party they were going to… Mrs Lake was so impressed by the boys’ outfits that… well, she thought they were also going to the party, but when I told that Francis and Christopher just liked to dress up and play games she said we must come to the party and offered to speak to the hosts to make sure we got in…”
“... and what happened at the party?” Mrs Parks asked, “I hope Francis behaved himself…”
“To begin with… yes, although he needed a bit of encouragement to walk into the room where the party was being held,” Wendy paused as if not sure how Francis’ mum would react, “You see Christopher was all for it, but Francis just froze in the doorway, so I… well I slapped him on the bottom a couple of times and pushed him into the middle of the party… he wasn’t pleased… but I told him he had to join in for Christopher.” Mrs Parks wondered how on earth Wendy was able to get Francis to join in a children’s party and realised Wendy must have some sort of hold on him. She didn’t inquire any further.
Wendy continued: “There were lots of younger boys and girls at the party and their mums… Francis was definitely the oldest in fancy dress. Some of the boys were wearing some… some very, what you might call skimpy outfits. The boys in lederhosen that Jill had seen… well, their little leather shorts were tiny and those shoulder strap harness things had clearly been pulled up really tight, so those little shorts were almost cutting the boys in half. They looked dreadfully uncomfortable, but so adorable…”
“... you know it was almost as if there was a competition going on to see which boy could be made to wear the most revealing costume…”
Mrs Parks laughed: “I should think Francis beat them hands down then…”
Wendy smiled: “Not quite… but there was a competition for the best fancy dress.”
“What?! I can’t believe there was anyone wearing anything that came close to the Red Indian costumes Francis and Christopher were wearing…”
“Do you remember the story of the Emperor’s New Clothes?” Wendy asked.
“Oh, you’re kidding…”
“Not at all… this poor boy was completely nude, if you discount his bright yellow sneakers and a crown of laurels on his head, oh, and his glasses, but that wasn’t the worst of it… he was disqualified from the fancy dress competition because one little girl pointed out that he wasn’t wearing any clothes… which sort of missed the point, but no one wanted to upset the little girl.”
“Oh, the poor thing… the boy I mean, he must have been so upset having had such a great idea…”
“I’m not sure if it was his idea… he didn’t look too happy when he walked into the room… still he wasn’t the only boy to end up nude… there was a boy dressed to look like an ancient Roman only he got his toga caught somehow…” Wendy laughed, “What I’m I saying… it was one of the girls who stepped on a lose bit of the boy’s toga and it unravelled in front of everyone. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath his toga, just like a real Roman… it was very funny to watch him trying to figure out how to put the toga back on… someone must have helped him put it on, because he hadn’t a clue… it all ended up bunched around his neck, so he was left bare from his chest down to his leather sandals…”
“What about the girls?” Mrs Parks asked, “What did they come as?”
“That’s the thing. The girls were all dressed very modestly… unlike the boys. All the girls were either wearing long skirts… there was a cowgirl in buckskin trousers and at least two bo-peeps…”
“Curious…”
“Then there were the party games…” Wendy continued, “I couldn’t believe how competitive Francis was. The oldest boys at the party were about Christopher’s age, fourteen, but most were younger. You should have seen Francis running about when they played musical chairs… his loincloth was flapping about all over the place as he raced to sit in a chair when the music stopped… it was like Francis had suddenly regressed to when he was a ten year old…”
“Yes, that sounds like Francis,” his mother observed.“... Francis actually ended up sat on Christopher’s lap during one round, but when the mother of the boy whose party it was told him his was ‘out’ you should have seen the look on Francis’ face…”
“Was he upset?”
“And how… he pushed his lower lip out just like a little boy, but he looked so cute,” Wendy replied, “but then someone suggested a game of ‘Blind Man’s Buff’ and they chose Francis, being the oldest, to be the first boy to be blindfolded… He was thrilled! I couldn’t believe that a sixteen year old boy could be so… so… childish… running around while everyone laughed at his tiny costume… some of the girls were startled when they saw what was barely hidden by Francis’ loincloth and a few of the younger boys were quite envious to judge by the way their jaws dropped… and Francis had no idea what a show he was putting on as he was blindfolded for ages before he caught another partygoer…”
Mrs Parks laughed: “You’ve got a lot to learn, Wendy… some boys never grow up…”
Wendy laughed along with Mrs Parks and added: “... and there were prizes for the best fancy dress costumes… there was even a podium for the prize winners to stand on and medals for the winners… one of the Bo-Peeps won the girl’s prize…”
Mrs Parks interrupted Wendy: “Never mind about the girls… what about the boys? Did Francis win anything?”
Wendy grinned: “What did you expect after his enthusiastic participation in all the party games? Of course Francis won first prize! A think Christopher was a bit miffed at not getting a prize as his costume was just as good as Francis’... in fact I seem to remember Francis was wearing Christoper’s outfit… but they couldn’t have two Red Indians on the podium…”
“... the boy we met at the garage, Peter, wearing the tiniest speedo I’ve ever seen, who was dressed as a diver with the enormous, comical flippers, came second and one of the lederhosen boys was third. They had to pose for photos to be taken and I asked the photographer to be sure and send me copies,” Wendy paused briefly before adding the observation, “It made me wonder what all Francis’s protests about wearing a Red Indian outfit were about… I mean at that boy’s fancy dress party, among all the other boys, Francis didn’t seem at all bothered about what he was wearing… once I’d pushed him into the room, even though there were plenty of young girls there as well…”
“Francis will have plenty of time to enjoy his Red Indian costume at Mrs Connelly’s summer camp,” Mrs Parks paused and hesitated before continuing, “There’s something I have to tell you, Wendy… It’s about Francis… I think you should know…”
But Wendy already knew what it was about, after all she’d caught Francis masturbating at the bottom of the Parks’ garden: “... but you told me about Francis’ naughty habit when we met… it was my on first date with him…”
“Yes, I told you and we had that nice little chat and the girls told you all about the games of Cowboys and Indians… but it wasn’t about that, it’s about Mrs Connelly’s summer camp… you see there’s something else about the camp you ought to know…”
Wendy’s eyebrows drew together as she frowned quizzically: “What’s that?”
“The camp teaches little boys to control themselves…”
“You mean…”
“Yes, dear… as I told you, Francis was spending far too much time alone in his bedroom. Mrs Connelly is, I gather, experienced in making sure boys like Francis are properly supervised to deny them the opportunity to play their little games…”
Wendy could hardly believe it. She was going to take Francis and Christopher to a summer camp, Mrs Connelly’s summer camp, where boys wore nothing more than flimsy loincloths and were somehow prevented from masturbating! For one extremely brief second she thought of the frustration Francis would feel and that perhaps she should warn he what to expect, but then with a mischievous laugh, she thought of the look on Francis’ face when he realised what he faced. Wendy wouldn’t miss that for the world.
“You’re not going to tell him before he goes are you?” Wendy asked.
“Good lord no!” Mrs Parks replied, “We wouldn’t be able to get him into the car if we did. Better just to keep quiet…”
oooOooo
“Ohhh…mum… do I have to go?”
It was Francis whinging again.
“Look, I’ve explained this all before… Mrs Harper has booked Christopher into Mrs Connelly’s summer camp and I’ve agreed that you will go to the camp as well so that Christopher has someone he knows with him…”
“... but, mum…”
“Be quiet for a minute, Francis… Christopher has had a very difficult time… his parents had to go away at short notice, then he managed to lock himself out of his house with no clothes on… all he’s had to wear… when he’s not completely nude, is his Red Indian costume… or rather your costume since you wanted to swap… so I think it’s the least you can do to go along to the camp as Christopher’s friend… You’ll enjoy it, Francis. There’s lots to do and according to the brochure, boys spend all their time dressed as Indian Braves, so you’ll feel right at home…”
Francis tried again: “...oh, mum… please… I’d rather stay here…”
“Don’t be so selfish, Francis… do something selfless for once… if you stay here you’ll just end up spending all your time in your room again and I won’t have it… it’s not healthy… I hope I don’t have to spell it out, Francis… I’m sure Wendy will agree with me…”
Francis blanched: “Yes, mum…”
Wendy spoke up: “I’m really proud of you Francis… I know how much Christopher looks up to you… he’ll need your company more than ever when you’re at the camp… don’t let him down.”
Put like that Francis realised he didn’t have any choice. He blushed to hear himself praised by his girlfriend and stammered his thanks.
There was a knock on the door. Sarah went to answer it and found Mrs Harper and a nude Christopher in the porch. Blushing, Christopher was holding a Red Indian outfit… Francis’ outfit, he one Christopher had been wearing since the boys swapped.
“I didn’t realise the boys had swapped costumes,” Janet Harper explained, “I thought that as they’re going to a Red Indian summer camp it would be best if they wore their own outfits rather than each other’s… I take it that Francis will be wearing his outfit for the journey?”
“You know I hadn’t given that much thought,” Mrs Parks said, “But that’s a splendid idea… isn’t it Francis? You boys go and put your costumes on and…”
“M-U-M!!!” Francis wailed.
“Francis… I’m not going to tell you again. Sarah, go and fetch the Red Indian outfit that Francis has been wearing… and you’d better stop by the kitchen and bring the discipline strap… no, better still, the paddle, yes bring the paddle with you as well,” Mrs Parks turned and looked Francis in the eye, “Just in case Francis needs some encouragement to put on his outfit before he goes away to camp…”
Wendy shook her head. Francis got the message.
“C’mon, Christopher…” he said.
“And just where do you think you are going?” Mrs Parks asked.
“To change…”
“Have you got cloth ears? Didn’t hear me just ask your sister to fetch the costume… and the paddle…”
“But…”
“Francis you’re in danger of setting off for summer camp with a sore red bottom if you don’t buck your ideas up… now get those clothes off!”
Francis had stripped off his clothes by the time Sarah returned carrying the Red Indian outfit and the paddle that had been hanging up in the kitchen. She gave the outfit to her now nude brother.
Mrs Parks spoke to the two bare boys: “Now swap outfits…”
Mrs Harper smiled as she watched Christopher and Francis move to stand in front of each other. Christopher handed back Francis’ Red Indian outfit and Francis returned Christopher’s tenderfoot outfit. All very formal, she thought a bit like in those films when the ransom money is handed over to the blackmailer in return for the incriminating documents.
Mrs Parks spoke: “Ok, boys, get your costumes on…”
Francis looked at the pile of clothes… his clothes that he’d just been made to take off in front of everyone: “I’d better take some clothes with me, hadn’t I, mum?”
“Whatever for? This is a summer camp… you won’t be needing much to wear… your loincloth will be plenty…”
Wendy watched as Francis went into a sulk. She still couldn’t believe how cute he looked. Just like a little boy… adorable.
The two boys stepped out of the house with nothing more than their buckskin loincloths, moccasins, headbands, feathers, arm and ankle-bands. Wendy had already thoughtfully packed the little boys’ bow and arrow sets and the rubber tomahawks, although she was sure there would be plenty of things to play with at the camp. Wendy let the boys go to the car ahead of her as she’d noticed a signal from Mrs Harper that she wanted a quick word out of earshot of the boys.
“It was just to say that I’ve spoken to Mrs Connelly,” Mrs Harper told Wendy, “...and she says you’re more than welcome to stay as her guest for as long as you like… you did pack a few things of your own to take, didn’t you?” Wendy nodded. “Francis is a bit older than most of the boys coming to the camp this year… it won’t do any harm to have you there to help out… just in case…”
Once again Wendy nodded her understanding of Mrs Harper’s message. It was going to be an exciting few days… or few weeks, if she decided to stay on and keep a close eye on Francis.
“What was that all about?” Francis asked Wendy as they settled in the car. Christopher Jumped in the back seat, while Francis carefully eased himself into the front passenger seat next to Wendy making sure his loincloth was covering as much as it could… although it didn’t seem to cover as much as he remembered and Francis swore the front flap was larger when he’d swapped it for Christopher’s tenderfoot outfit.
“Nothing that concerns you,” Wendy replied as she started the car, “Don’t forget to wave goodbye, boys…”
A smiling Christopher waved from the car as they set off. He nudged Francis’ shoulder and told him to wave.
“You’re the tenderfoot now, squirt,” Francis pointed out, “... don’t tell me what to do…” But he turned and waved to his mum, sisters and Mrs Harper.
As Mrs Parks waved she spoke to Mrs Harper: “I do hope the boys will be alright at the summer camp…”
Mrs Harper turned to look at her friend. They both burst out laughing.
“Can you imagine,” Mrs Parks said, “... my poor boy, nothing to wear but that tiny loincloth for weeks on end, surrounded by little boys dragging him off to play Cowboys and Indians morning, noon and night… he’ll soon get tired of it and want to come home… I’ll give him a week… two weeks tops… he’ll be begging Wendy to take him home…”
“She won’t will she?” Mrs Harper asked.
“Good lord, I hope not!” Mrs Parks roared with laughter again, “The girls and I are going to have so much fun without Francis moping about and getting in the way… Oh and by the way I couldn’t help noticing, but did you shorten Francis’ loincloth when Christopher had it to wear?”
“You noticed…” Mrs Harper smiled mischievously, “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself…”
“No need to apologise… if there’s one thing I’ve learnt, Janet, by keeping Francis in a tiny loincloth I can be sure he’s not going to get up to too much mischief… and I’m sure Wendy finds it helps to keep him under control too…”
“Yes, Wendy seems to be a very level-headed young girl… I hope she decides to stay on at Mrs Connelly’s, it’ll be a nice break for her…”
