which it was a pleasure to
talk to. He became absorbed in his turn, and equally; ministering to
the attention and curiosity and power of imagination he had aroused.
What listeners her eyes were! and how quick to receive and keen to pass
judgement was the intelligence behind them. It surprised him; however,
its responses were mainly given through the eyes. In vain he tried to
get a fair share of words from her too; sought to draw her out. Lois
was not afraid to speak; and yet, for sheer modesty and simpleness,
that supposed her words incapable of giving pleasure and would not
speak them as a matter of conventionality, she said very few. At last
Philip made a determined effort to draw her out.

"I have told you now about my home," he said. "What is yours like?" And
his manner said, I am going to stop, and you are going to begin.

"There is nothing striking about it, I think," said Lois.

"Perhaps you think so, just because it is familiar to you."

"No, it is because there is really not much to tell about it. There are
just level farm fields; and the river, and the Sound."

"The river?"

"The Connecticut."

"O, _that_ is where you are, is it? And are you near the river?"

"Not very near. About as near the river on one side as we are to the
Sound on the other; either of them is a mile and more away."

"You wish they were nearer?"

"No," said Lois; "I don't think I do; there is always the pleasure of
going to them."

"Then you should wish them further. A mile is a short drive."

"O, we do not drive much. We walk to the shore often, and sometimes to
the river."

"You like the large water so much the best?"

"I think I like it best," said Lois, laughing a little; "but we go for
clams."

"Can you get them yourself?"

"Certainly! It is great fun. While you go to drive in the Park, we go
to dig clams. And I think we have the best of it too, for a stand-by."

"Do tell me about the clams."

"Do you like them?"

"I suppose I do. I do not know them. What are they? the usual little
soup fish?"

"I don't know about soup fish. O no! not those; they are _not_ the sort
Mrs. Wishart has sometimes. These are long; ours in the Sound, I mean;
longish and blackish; and do not taste like the clams you have here."

"Better, I hope?"

"A great deal better. There is nothing much pleasanter than a dish of
long clams that you have dug yourself. At least we think so."

"Because you have got them yourself!"

"No; but I