"And is this place built and arranged just for the sake of having supper, as you call it, down here once in a while?"
"Couldn't be no better arrangement," said Mr. Sears. "This stove draws first-rate."
"But this is a great deal of trouble. I should think they would take their clams home and have them there."
"Some folks doos," returned Mr. Sears. "These here folks knows what's good. Wait till you see. I tell you! long clams, fresh digged, and b'iled as soon as they're fetched in, is somethin' you never see beat."
"Long clams," repeated the lady. "Are they not the usual sort?"
"Depends on what you're used to. These is usual here, and I'm glad on't. Round clams ain't nowheres alongside o' 'em."
He went off to fill the kettle, and the lady returned slowly round the house to the steps and the door, which were on the sea side. Mr. Lenox had gone in and was talking to Mrs. Armadale; Mrs. Barclay was in her old position on the steps, looking out to sea. There was a wonderful light of westering rays on land and water; a rich gleam from brown rock and green seaweed; a glitter and fresh sparkle on the waves of the incoming tide; an indescribable freshness and life in the air and in the light; a delicious invigoration in the salt breath of the ocean. Mrs. Barclay sat drinking it all in, like one who had been long athirst. Mrs. Lenox stood looking, half cognizant of what was before her, more than half impatient and scornful of it; yet even on her the witchery of the place and the scene was not without its effect.
"Do you come here often?" she asked Mrs. Barclay. .
"Never so often as I would like."
"I should think you would be tired to death!"