Jed was more embarrassed than ever.
"Sho, sho!" he protested; "'twasn't anything."
"Oh, yes, it was; it was a great deal. I was getting very worried, almost frightened. She had been gone ever since luncheon—dinner, I mean—and I had no idea where. She's a pretty good little girl, generally speaking," drawing the child close and smiling down upon her, "but sometimes she is heedless and forgets. Yesterday she forgot, didn't you, dear?"
Barbara shook her head.
"I didn't forget," she said. "I mean I only forgot a little. Petunia forgot almost EVERYTHING. I forgot and went as far as the bridge, but she forgot all the way to the clam field."
Jed rubbed his chin.
"The which field?" he drawled.
"The clam field. The place where Mrs. Smalley's fish man unplants the clams she makes the chowder of. He does it with a sort of hoe thing and puts them in a pail. He was doing it yesterday; I saw him."
Jed's eyes twinkled at the word "unplants," but another thought occurred to him.
"You wasn't out on those clam flats alone, was you?" he asked, addressing Barbara.