"Clam-chowder club, of course," growled Boggs, "with a brass band and a cord of firewood, and three-legged stools to sit on."
Marny glared at the Chronic Interrupter, made a movement with his hand as if to compel his silence, and continued:
"We had eaten nothing since breakfast but five raw clams apiece, and——"
"Where was all this, Marny, anyhow?" asked Boggs.
"Down at Uncle Jesse Conklin's, on Cap Tree Island," retorted Marny impatiently.
"All right—sounded as if it might be at a summer boarding-house. Go ahead!"
"No, down on Great South Bay. The Stone Mugs had an outing and I went along. These clams coming on an empty stomach and being right out of the salt water and fresh and cold——"
"Mixed in your statements, old man: can't be salt and fresh at the same time. But go on! So far we've only got five clams to be hilarious on——"
Marny reached over and grabbed Boggs by the collar.
"Will you shut up, or shall I throw you over the banisters?"