"Clams by the bushel,
Clams by the lot,
Clams for the kettle,
Clams for the pot."
"None for us today," Mrs. Gruen called.
Salty smiled. "Come now," he coaxed. 'Ye can't turn down my clams. They're nutritious, delicious, delectable, respectable! Matter of fact, ye might even find a pearl in one of 'em!"
Nancy turned to Hannah. "Don't you think we could use a few pearly clams?" she asked with a wink.
The housekeeper gave in. "Okay, a dozen. Nancy, please get my purse."
Nancy darted away, but soon returned with the pocketbook and a container for the clams.
After the elderly sailor had left, she and Hannah took the clams into the kitchen and Nancy started to open them with a sharp knife. Soon she had a pile of empty shells, but no pearls.
"I guess these haven't anything in them but meat! Well, here's the last one."
Nancy opened the clam and was about to toss away the attractive, rainbow-colored shell when a tiny object inside drew her attention.
"A pearl!" she cried, holding it out for the housekeeper to see.
Hannah stared at the small white object. "I declare, it is one," she acknowledged, "and may be worth some money!"
"I'll take it to Sam Weatherby," Nancy said eagerly. She removed the pearl and washed it, then drove to Mr. Weatherby's shop.
The owner was a dealer in curios and antique jewelry. Nancy had to wait fifteen minutes while an unpleasant man bargained with the shop owner over a piece of jewelry he wanted to sell. It was a man's antique watch chain with an attractive gold charm. At last the customer accepted an offer, pocketed the money Mr. Weatherby paid him, and turned on his heel, remarking, "I might as well have given it to you!"
After the man had left, Mr. Weatherby said to Nancy, "That was Daniel Hector. How he loves to argue! If all my customers were like him, I'd have to close up shop. Well, what can I do for you, Nancy?"
She removed the pearl from her purse and asked the curio dealer what it was worth.
"Well, well," he said, examining the object carefully, "it's nice, but river pearls are not valuable." He named a modest sum. "I'll buy it if you'll bring me the shell from which it was taken. I want to display the pearl with the shell."
Nancy promised to return with the shell the next day. Then she put the pearl in her pocket-book and left the shop. She started walking the few crowded blocks to police headquarters.
As Nancy stopped to look in the window of a department store, a boy drew close to her. Then suddenly he jerked the purse from beneath her arm and fled!
CHAPTER IIHeath Castle
It took Nancy a moment to recover from her astonishment. By the time she whirled around, the purse snatcher was already running down the street. Nancy dashed after him, but tried to avoid bumping into pedestrians.
"What's the matter?" asked a man she side-stepped just in time to avoid a collision.
"My purse-"
He took up the chase with her. As word spread, other people followed. But the boy was running fast. Nancy caught a glimpse of him as he dashed into a narrow alley between two buildings. When she reached it, there was no sign of him.
"Well, there goes my pearl," she thought unhappily.
Besides the pearl, her purse had contained her driver's license, car registration, some credit cards, money, and cosmetics.
"I suppose I should be thankful I didn't lose more," Nancy said to herself ruefully.
She thanked the stranger who had tried to assist her, then hurried down the street to headquarters and was taken into Lieutenant Masters' office.
After greetings were exchanged. Nancy said, "I want to report two thefts." First she told about the boy who had snatched her purse.
"Can you describe him?" the policewoman asked.
"I didn't get a look at his face," said Nancy, "but I think he was about ten or twelve years old. He was stocky with tousled blond hair and wore blue jeans and a tee shirt."
"Many boys could fit that description," Lieutenant Masters commented. "We'll do our best, but I doubt that you'll get back your bag with the contents." Then she frowned. "Did I hear you say 'two thefts'?"
"Yes," said Nancy, and told about the missing rosebushes.
The officer's dark eyes gleamed with interest. "I think I can give you the answer to the second one right away," she said. "The culprit is probably little Joan Fenimore."
"Oh no!" Nancy said in dismay.
"Yes," said the officer. "I told you she had been in difficulty with the law. Just before I came to see you I was checking into another report of flowers stolen from your neighborhood. The woman of the house caught a glimpse of the child and described her.
"Joan has a passionate love for flowers," Lieutenant Masters went on, "and an amazing knowledge of them. I arranged for her to join a nature study class at the museum, but I'm afraid that my rehabilitation program backfired. Recently she has taken plants and shrubs from other homes."
"What a shame!" Nancy said.
"Joan's father is not living," the young officer resumed. "Her widowed mother is ill and very poor."
Nancy listened sympathetically as the police-woman went on, "I'll see that Joan returns the bushes to your garden. Mrs. Fenimore will insist upon it, anyway. She's greatly distressed by her child's behavior."
Lieutenant Masters stood up. "Come along," she said. "We'll go there now and you can hear everything firsthand."
The two rode to the Fenimore house located in a run-down section of the city. The tiny yard was a mass of colorful flowers, however, and vines half-covered the unpainted, weather-beaten porch. As Nancy and the officer went up the flagstone walk, the policewoman called attention to two young, newly planted rosebushes.
"Are these yours?" she asked.
"They look like the ones that were in our yard," Nancy said. "But-"
She broke off, because a little girl in a faded pink dress had just come around the corner of the house. When the child saw the woman in uniform, she stopped short and then turned as if to run off.
"Don't be afraid," the lieutenant said gently.
"Did you come to take me away?" Joan asked.
"Indeed we didn't. But we will have to send you to a special school unless you decide to be good."
"I am good," Joan said, tossing her tangled blond curls. "Just ask my mother!"
"In many ways you are very good. I know you work hard to take care of your mother. But why do you dig up shrubs and plants that don't belong to you?"
Joan's gaze roved to the telltale rosebushes. She hung her head and didn't answer.
"I'm sure you don't really mean to be naughty," the policewoman continued. "Why do you take flowers?"
"Because they're pretty," Joan said. "We can never buy anything nice."