Frank picked up a handful of the dry powdery sand and let it trickle gently into the gap of shin that showed between the end of David’s trousers, and the beginning of his sock. This caused him to spring up.
“Lord, what’s that?” he said. “Oh, I see. Funny; I thought it was a bug of sorts.”
“Well, if you will grow so that your trousers only reach half-way down your legs, what else is to be done with the intervals?” asked Frank.
“I grew two inches last half,” said David. “I shall be taller than you before I’ve done.”
“Very likely. You will be the image of a piece of asparagus, if you like that. And certainly, if you grow up to the size of your feet, you’ll be big enough. I shall call you Spondee.”
David’s shirt was half over his head, but he paused and spoke muffled.
“Because why?” he asked.
“Because a spondee is two long feet.”
David gave a great splutter of laughter, as his shirt came off.
“Oh, quite funny,” he said. “Wish I had guessed. Jove, doesn’t the sea look good? I’m glad it was made, and—and that I didn’t die in the night. You didn’t bring down anything to eat, did you? Isn’t it bad to bathe on an empty tummy? Or is it a full one?”