Now I was surprised to hear that voice, but most surprised at its sweetness. But yet I would not turn nor answer until the red sun had winked his last. For, I thought, here is one of the maids from the house of Goodwin the Rich--or perhaps the governess; yes, surely, the governess. The truly Rich may insist upon sweet voices in their governesses. And at last I turned and saw the governess sitting upon the bank, just where the sod broke off to the sand. And the light from the western sky shone upon her, the light from the sky that was all yellows and reds and would soon be turned to violet and green. And as she sat there, in her plain black dress, with that light shining upon her, she seemed very beautiful. Truly, thought I, the Rich may have what they will. But I could not have told what was the color of her hair. In that light it was red and gold. And I stammered in my speech. “Your pardon, madam,” I said. “I was saying good-night to the old sun.” She smiled, a smile as sweet as her voice, but with a touch of sadness in it. The life of a governess to the Rich is not all a path of roses. “Yes,” she said. “I came down to see the sun set, too. But why are you digging?” “I was digging clams,” I answered gently. For I felt a sorrow for her sadness. “Oh,” she said, “do you dig clams? Have you some clams in your basket? I should like to see some clams.” Now, truly, that was an easy matter, that she should see some clams, for there they were in the basket. And the sun was gone, so I lost none of his company if I would please the governess. It did, indeed, strike me as strange that a governess should know so little of clams, but probably she did not teach biology. Governesses to the Rich deal more in appearance and in manners. Still, I hold that in some respects the manners of a clam are worthy of imitation. He is quiet and unobtrusive. I waded out into the water and soused my basket well. Then I brought it to the governess sitting on the bank. “Now,” she said, a trifle of petulance showing in the sweet voice, “you have got them all wet.” “Better all wet than all muddy,” I replied, standing before her, and watching the play of light upon her hair. When I see her hair in the plain light of day, I think I shall find it red,--a brilliant red. But it was wonderful. Her head was bent as she looked into my basket, and my opportunity for observation was excellent. One thing my scientific training has done for me is to make me a good observer. “Oh,” cried the governess, “what is that funny-looking thing they are sticking out? Is it the head?” “It is called the head,” I answered, “but it is not. Isn’t it strange how often a thing is not what it is called? But I suppose you do not have to teach anything about clams.” “Teach about clams!” she said, puzzled for an instant. Then she seemed to be amused. “No, I don’t. It’s lucky, isn’t it? For I don’t know anything about them. May I take one of them?”