suppose that helps."

"So you get them by digging?"

"Yes. It is funny work. The clams are at the edge of the water, where
the rushes grow, in the mud. We go for them when the tide is out. Then,
in the blue mud you see quantities of small holes as big as a lead
pencil would make; those are the clam holes."

"And what then?"

"Then we dig for them; dig with a hoe; and you must dig very fast, or
the clam will get away from you. Then, if you get pretty near him he
spits at you."

"I suppose that is a harmless remonstrance."

"It may come in your face."

Mr. Dillwyn laughed a little, looking at this fair creature, who was
talking to him, and finding it hard to imagine her among the rushes
racing with a long clam.

"It is wet ground I suppose, where you find the clams?"

"O yes. One must take off shoes and stockings and go barefoot. But the
mud is warm, and it is pleasant enough."

"The clams must be good, to reward the trouble?"

"We think it is as pleasant to get them as to eat them."

"I believe you remarked, this sport is your substitute for our Central
Park?"

"Yes, it is a sort of a substitute."

"And, in the comparison, you think you are the gainers?"

"You cannot compare the two things," said Lois; "only that both are
ways of seeking pleasure."

"So you say; and I wanted your comparative estimate of the two ways."

"Central Park is new to me, you know," said Lois; "and I am very fond
of riding,--_driving_, Mrs. Wishart says I ought to call it; the scene
is like fairyland to me. But I do not think it is better fun, really,
than going after clams. And the people do not seem to enjoy it a
quarter as much."

"The people whom you see driving?"

"Yes. They do not look as if they were taking much pleasure. Most of
them."

"Pray why should they go, if they do not find pleasure in it?"

Lois looked at her questioner.

"You can tell, better than I, Mr. Dillwyn. For the same reasons, I
suppose, that they do other things."

"Pardon me,--what things do you mean?"

"I mean, _all_ the things they do for pleasure, or that are supposed to
be for pleasure. Parties--luncheon parties, and dinners, and--" Lois
hesitated.

"_Supposed_ to be for pleasure!" Philip echoed the words. "Excuse
me--but what makes you think they do not gain their end?"

"People do not look really happy," said Lois. "They do not seem to me
as if they really enjoyed what they were doing."

"You are a nice observer!"

"Am I?"