"`Besides, the clams!' I exclaimed unthinkingly.
"`Oh, yes!' said Eunice, `we can have chowder-parties: that will be
delightful!'
"`Clams! chowder! oh, worse than flesh!' groaned Abel. `Will you
reverence Nature by outraging her first laws?'
"I had made a great mistake, and felt very foolish. Eunice and I
looked at each other, for the first time."
"Speak for yourself only, Enos," gently interpolated his wife.
"It was a lovely afternoon in the beginning of June when we first
approached Arcadia. We had taken two double teams at Bridgeport,
and drove slowly forward to our destination, followed by a cart
containing our trunks and a few household articles. It was a
bright, balmy day: the wheat-fields were rich and green, the
clover showed faint streaks of ruby mist along slopes leaning
southward, and the meadows were yellow with buttercups. Now and
then we caught glimpses of the Sound, and, far beyond it, the dim
Long Island shore. Every old white farmhouse, with its gray-walled
garden, its clumps of lilacs, viburnums, and early roses, offered
us a picture of pastoral simplicity and repose.
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