“No, Adam,” she cried, “for I must help.” She always had her will, that red-haired governess. So I took my fork and opened the smoking dome, and together we set upon the table corn and sweet potatoes and a chicken and a fish and the lobsters; and, last of all, a great pan of clams. And the rest, upon the hot stones, I covered again with seaweed. And as I pitched the weed, I heard Eve laughing. “Adam,” she said, “look here. And there are two of us.” I turned and saw the table filled to overflowing, and no place left large enough to set a plate; and Eve sitting on the seat, and laughing so that tears stood in her eyes. “I should have made the table larger,” I said. “But we need no plates. What would the first man have done with a plate, Eve?” “Or with baked clams?” she asked. “But we are not in Eden.” “I am,” I said. And she spoke hastily: “At least the other guest shall not want.” “Let us begin,” I said, “while the clams are hot. There is yet more.” So we sat side by side upon the bench, and the wind whispered softly in the tree above. And suddenly Eve rose. “My father, Adam,” she said. “He is just in time.” I stood and turned. Her father! It was Goodwin the Rich; and my castles were tumbling about my ears. So we saw each other, he and I, and looked each other up and down, and either measured other. And though he was Goodwin the Rich, he seemed a man, and I hoped he thought as much of me. And he said something about clams and his daughter, I know not what, and I said some foolish thing, I know not what. Then I fetched a box from my shed, for him to sit upon,--a proper seat for the Rich,--and he seemed to like it, and tilted back and forth, and ate prodigious quantities of clams and all things else, and pronounced them uncommon good. And I sat mute, but Eve talked steadily, a merry talk, and ate the heads of the clams--or tried to eat them--and found them but ill eating--until I showed her how to take the clam by the head and dip him in the butter, and eat him properly. And she bit the corn from the cob, and opened the clams with her fingers, and I watched her in adoration and despair. For what should I say to a Daughter of the Rich? So there we sat long at my little table under my great tree, and I saw the tide lapping high upon the shore, and heard the wind that sighed loud in the pine. And indeed that sighing wind fell in marvelously with my mood, for I was not merry, as any may guess. And at last Goodwin the Rich had filled him full with lobster and corn and clams, and he seemed well pleased, and sat upon his box, and smiled and exhaled peace. And in a while he rose and made some excuse, and thanked me and went his way. Then, when he was gone, I sat there still and looked out upon the water, and said nothing. For I could not look at Eve and be content, but still I had the water and the shore. And I felt that Eve was watching me and smiling. “Adam,” she said at last. “Well?”