CHAPTER XV. FAIR PICTURES IN THE BLUE
“ I don’t want my old britches on! I don’t want my old britches on!”
Dick was darting about n***d on the sand, Mr Button after him with a pair of small trousers in his hand. A crab might just as well have attempted to chase an antelope.
They had been on the island a fortnight, and d**k had discovered the keenest joy in life—to be n***d. To be n***d and wallow in the shallows of the lagoon, to be n***d and sit drying in the sun. To be free from the curse of clothes, to shed civilisation on the beach in the form of breeches, boots, coat, and hat, and to be one with the wind and the sun and the sea.
The very first command Mr Button had given on the second morning of their arrival was, “Strip and into the water wid you.”
Dick had resisted at first
