Those ladies and gentlemen to whom clam-bakes were a new experience watched with interest the process of cooking the bivalves.

A pit of suitable size for the quantity to be prepared was made in the sand, the bottom covered with stones; it was then heated by a fire kindled in it, the brands were removed, seaweed spread over the stones, the clams poured in, abundance of seaweed piled over and about them, a piece of an old sail put over that, and they were left to bake or steam, while another fire was kindled near by, and a large tin bucket, filled with water, set on it to boil for making coffee.

While some busied themselves with these culinary operations, others repaired to the dwelling, which stood some little distance back from the beach, the ground sloping gently away from it to the water’s edge.

The lady of the house met them at the door, and hospitably invited them to come in and rest themselves in her parlor, or sit on the porch; and understanding their errand to the locality, not only gave ready permission for their table to be spread in the shade of her house, but offered to lend anything they might require in the way of utensils.

Accepting her offer, they set to work, the men making a rough sort of impromptu table with some boards, and the ladies spreading upon it the contents of the provision baskets.

Mrs. Dinsmore, Elsie and the younger ladies of their party, offered to assist in these labors, but were told that they were considered guests, and must be content to look on or wander about and amuse themselves.

There was not much to be seen but grassy slopes destitute of tree or shrub, and the harbor and open sea beyond.

They seated themselves upon the porch of the dwelling-house, while Captain Raymond and the younger members of their family party wandered here and there about the place.

There seemed to be some sport going on among the cooks—­those engaged in preparing the coffee.

Lulu hurried toward them to see what it was about, then came running back to her father, who stood a little farther up the slope, with Grace clinging to his hand.

“Oh!” she said with a face of disgust, “I don’t mean to drink any of that coffee; why, would you believe it, they stirred it with a poker?”

“Did they?” laughed the captain; “they might have done worse.  I presume that was used for lack of a long enough spoon.  We must not be too particular on such occasions as this.”

“But you won’t drink any of it, will you, papa?”

“I think it altogether likely I shall.”

“Why, papa! coffee that was stirred with a dirty poker?”

“We will suppose the poker was not very dirty,” he said, with a good-humored smile; “probably there was nothing worse on it than a little ashes, which, diffused through so large a quantity of liquid, could harm no one.”

“Must I drink it if they offer me a cup?”