“Hi, Ned! have you seen our little girl?” called Mr. Alder.
“Who, Clematis? Have you lost her?”
“No, she has lost herself. Have you seen her?”
“My gracious, no.” His blue eyes opened almost as wide as butter plates.
“Well, tell any one you see that she’s lost; that’s a good boy.”
“My gracious, I guess I will.”
Off ran little Ned Atkinson, as fast as his legs would carry him.
He told every one he met, but no one had seen Clematis.
Not far down the street Mr. Knapp came rolling out of his yard.
“Have you seen that little girl of ours, Mr. Knapp?”