have been
here your daily routine--leaving out the exciting clam hunts and the
excursions in quest of the ferocious flounder, like the one we're
supposed--mind, I say supposed--to be on at the present moment--you
have put in the day about like this: Get up, bathe, eat, walk to the
post-office, walk home, sit about, talk a little, read some, walk some
more, eat again, smoke, talk, read, eat for the third time, smoke, talk,
read and go to bed. That's the program, isn't it?"

"Not exactly. I play tennis in summer--when there is anyone to play with
me--and golf, after a fashion. I used to play both a good deal, when I
was younger. I swim, and I shoot a little, and--and--"

"How about society? Have any, do you?"

"In the summer, when the city people are here, there is a good deal
going on, if you care for it--picnics and clam bakes and teas and lawn
parties and such."

"Heavens! what reckless dissipation! Do you indulge?"

"Why, no--not very much. Hang it all, Jim! you know I'm no society man.
I used to do the usual round of fool stunts when I was younger, but--"

"But now you're too antique, I suppose. Wonder that someone hasn't
collected you as a genuine Chippendale or something. So you don't 'tea'
much?"

"Not much. I'm not often invited, to tell you the truth. The summer
crowd doesn't take kindly to me, I'm afraid."

"Astonishing! You're such a chatty, entertaining, communicative cuss on
first acquaintance, too. So captivatingly loquacious to strangers. I can
imagine how you'd shine at a 'tea.' Every summer girl that tried to talk
to you would be frost-bitten. Do you accept invitations when they do
come?"

"Not often nowadays. You see, I know they don't really want me."

"How do you know it?"

"Why--well, why should they? Everybody else calls me--"

"They call you a clam and so you try to live up to your reputation. I
know you, Kent. You think yourself a tough old bivalve, but the most
serious complaint you suffer from is ingrowing sensitiveness. They do
want you. They'd invite you if you gave them half a chance. Oh, I know
you won't, of course; but if I had my way I'd have you dragged by main
strength to every picnic and tea and feminine talk-fest within twenty
miles. You might meet some persevering female who would propose
marriage. YOU never would, but SHE might."

I rose to my feet in disgust.

"We'll go clamming," said I.

He did not move.

"We will--later on," he answered. "We haven't got to t