He had made "dry-camp" just exactly as well as any of the Happy Family could have done.

He had slept out under the stars rolled in a blanket--and do you think for one minute that he would ever submit to lace-trimmed nighties again?
If you do, ask the little Doctor what the Kid said on the first night after his return, when she essayed to robe him in spotless white and rock him, held tight in her starved arms.

Or you might ask his Daddy Chip, who hovered pretty close to them both, his eyes betraying how his soul gave thanks.
Or--never mind, I'll tell you myself.
The Little Doctor brought the nightie, and reached out her two eager arms to take the kid off Chip's knees where he was perched contentedly relating his adventures with sundry hair-raising additions born of his imagination.

The Kid was telling Daddy Chip about the skunk he saw, and he hated to be interrupted.

He looked at his Doctor Dell and at the familiar, white garment with lace at the neck and wristbands, and he waved his hand with a gesture of dismissal.
"Aw, take that damn' thing away!" he told her in the tone of the real old cowpuncher.