“It is always offered here,” said Frances, “and all right to take it, and some only care for the stew.”
In came the clam course. The Western girls looked at each other and Isabel whispered to Virginia, “Shades of clams and ‘craw-daddles’ in our old creek at home! Now tell us, Cathalina.”
In a low tone Cathalina replied, “Open the shell, take the clam off where it is fastened to the shell and hold it by that end with your fingers, dip it in the little cup of broth, then in the melted butter, and eat it.”
“Why, they’re good,” said Isabel in surprise, “taste like oysters.”
Fried clams, lobsters on a little platter, New England doughnuts and a plate of crisp cookies, pickles, and hot cups of tea or coffee, all came in for a share of praise from these hungry campers. Coffee was not served at camp, but permitted on these special occasions.
At Bath they divided into parties, a councillor in charge of each, and scattered to the bookstores, the shoe stores, the jeweller’s, the drug store, the dry goods stores or the ten cent store on their different errands, till the time agreed upon to meet at the boat. Then again the curving Aeolus took them up the river.
“Swimming meet tomorrow, girls,” reminded Hilary, “you going to try, Cathalina?”
“No; I’m not speedy enough to race, though I’ve learned to swim so much better already. It’s a shame that I can’t with all the summers I’ve been at the shore. I’m going to do more of it at school next year. Are you going to enter, Hilary?”
“Yes, you know that I always have to try everything. I’ll not win, though. How about you, Virgie?”
“Not I. I never saw water I wanted to swim in till I came to school last year. I love to swim now, but I’m no fish like Izzy.”