Tidda and the Sands girl had been pursuing the elusive clam with some success. Tidda's hands were full of clams which she had dug out with the stick and her hands, burrowing into the sand and mud under the water, and her skirt was wet, and her sleeves were wet nearly to the shoulder. I called Eve's attention to that fact as she splashed out, ran to the bank, and deposited her clams in an old rusty tin can with jagged edges, which she drew from some hiding place evidently in familiar use. She must have done that same thing many times, and this was the first that we knew of it.
Eve glanced up and smiled.
"Never mind, Adam. Let them have their fun. I'll put dry clothes on her when we get home." Then she turned again to Elizabeth. "And Olivia," she said, "is—"
"I think," said Elizabeth, interrupting, "that Olivia is coming now."
As she spoke there was a slight rustling in the path through the greenery, and Olivia emerged upon the edge of the bank. She was stepping lightly, diffident and hesitating, a hand over her heart. It was like a young doe coming out of the woods.
"Oh!" she said. "I beg your pardon."
And Elizabeth laughed silently, mostly with her eyes; but Eve rose and went to meet Olivia.
"What's the joke, Elizabeth?" I asked in her ear. "Tell me, won't you?"
She turned merry eyes to mine. "Olivia's the joke," she said. "I can't explain, but if you knew her as well as I do—"