e was a lot of human nature lurking
in the depths of the lagoon, comedy and tragedy.

An English rock-pool has its marvels. You can fancy the marvels of this
vast rock-pool, nine miles round and varying from a third to half a
mile broad, swarming with tropic life and flights of painted fishes;
where the glittering albicore passed beneath the boat like a fire and a
shadow; where the boat's reflection lay as clear on the bottom as
though the water were air; where the sea, pacified by the reef, told,
like a little child, its dreams.

It suited the lazy humour of Mr Button that he never pursued the lagoon
more than half a mile or so on either side of the beach. He would bring
the fish he caught ashore, and with the aid of his tinder box and dead
sticks make a blazing fire on the sand; cook fish and breadfruit and
taro roots, helped and hindered by the children. They fixed the tent
amidst the trees at the edge of the chapparel, and made it larger and
more abiding with the aid of the dinghy's sail.

Amidst these occupations, wonders, and pleasures, the children lost all
count of the flight of time. They rarely asked about Mr Lestrange;
after a while they did'nt ask about him at all. Children soon forget.

PART III

CHAPTER XVI

THE POETRY OF LEARNING

To forget the passage of time you must live in the open air, in a warm
climate, with as few clothes as possible upon you. You must collect and
cook your own food. Then, after a while, if you have no special ties to
bind you to civilisation, Nature will begin to do for you what she does
for the savage. You will recognise that it is possible to be happy
without books or newspapers, letters or bills. You will recognise the
part sleep plays in Nature.

After a month on the island you might have seen Dick at one moment full
of life and activity, helping Mr Button to dig up a taro root or
what-not, the next curled up to sleep like a dog. Emmeline the same.
Profound and prolonged lapses into sleep; sudden awakenings into a
world of pure air and dazzling light, the gaiety of colour all round.
Nature had indeed opened her doors to these children.

One might have fancied her in an experimental mood, saying: "Let me put
these buds of civilisation back into my nursery and see what they will
become--how they will blossom, and what will be the end of it all."

Just as Emmeline had brought away her treasured box from the
Northumberland, Dick had conveyed with him a small l