“Oh!” cried Agnes, springing to the tent entrance so suddenly that the wooden-legged clam-man started back in surprise. “Oh! have you seen my sisters anywhere on the beach?”
“Hel-lo!” growled the startled man. “I dunno ’bout thet thar, shipmet. What kind o’ sisters be they?”
“Two little girls,” said Ruth, eagerly, joining Agnes at the opening. “One of them carried a doll in her arms. She is dark. The bigger one is fair.”
The saltish old fellow chuckled deep in his hairy throat. “Guess I seen ’em, shipmets,” he said. “Them’s the leetle gals that didn’t know clam-holes.”
“Well! what became of them?” demanded the impatient Agnes.
“Why——I dug ’em, shipmet, an’ they air in this i-den-ti-cal basket now,” declared the clam-digger.
“Well!” gasped Agnes, behind her hand. “Maybe the children didn’t know clam-holes; but he doesn’t know beans!”
Ruth asked again: “We mean, what became of the girls, sir?”
“I couldn’t tell ye, shipmet. D’ye want any clams?” pursued this man of one idea. “Ten cents a dozen; two-bits for——”
“I’ll buy some clams—yes,” cried Ruth, in some desperation. “But tell us where you last saw our sisters, sir?”