Nancy began to look a little anxious as she considered her conduct.
"At any rate," she said defensively, "it is n't a graven image, and I
have neither bowed down to it nor served it! I do try to be good, Dan,
but it seemeth that the devil is ever at my elbow."

[Illustration]

"'T is because thou art idle," said Dan, shaking his head as gravely
as Gran'ther Wattles himself. "Busy thyself with the clams, and Satan
will have less chance at thy idle hands, and thy idle tongue too."

Nancy obediently took hold of the basket which Dan thrust into her
hands, and together they walked for some distance over the sandy
stretches. Suddenly a tiny stream of water spouted up beside Dan's
feet. "Here they be!" he shouted, plunging his shovel into the sand,
"and what big ones!" Nancy surveyed the clams with disfavor. They were
thrusting pale thick muscles out between the lobes of their shells.
"They look as if they were sticking out their tongues at us," said
Nancy as she picked one up gingerly and dropped it into the basket.
"But, Dan, Mother said we were to bed them in seaweed!"

"I see none here," said Dan, leaning on his shovel and looking about
him. "The tide hath swept everything as clean as a floor."

"I 'll seek for some while thou art busy with the digging," said Nancy,
glad to escape the duty of picking up the clams, and off she trotted
without another word. The flats, seamed and grooved with channels
where pools of water still lingered, sloped gently down to the lower
level of the bay, and farther out a range of rocks lifted themselves
above the sandy waste.