DEAD TREES LOVE THE FIRE. 159 



quite done. When all is ready, shovel them 

 into a large tin pan. We always keep the 

 implements for a clam-bake in one of the lock- 

 ers of the boat, for scores of times every sum- 

 mer we find that we can have a clam-bake 

 when we least expected it, just as it happened 

 this morning. Two hundred clams disap- 

 peared among seven of us, almost sooner than 

 it takes to tell the tale, and back we went to 

 our work. 



As I shouldered my axe again I could not 

 help one more thought of the miserable toilers 

 in town. Was I stealing a living? If so, the old 

 adage regarding stolen sweets once more proved 

 true. The children are set at work carrying 

 the wood down to the shore ready to be put 

 on board, and even the youngest, a sturdy 

 damsel of not quite four, shouts with indig- 

 nation if any one proposes to help her along 

 with her load. It is not four o'clock when 

 we have enough wood to fill up the sail-boat, 

 and we have to put some of it on deck. It 

 has turned out to be a pretty hot day, and 

 as there is enough breeze to take us home in 

 less than an hour, we decide for a surf-bath, 

 and the Nellie s prow is turned over to the 



