unapproachable.

"Poor old thing," murmured Sylvia, addressing it. "You're not thinking
right." She laughed softly, and ran her hands through her thick curls.

Instantly an oar glided off the boat. She jumped for it, but it was too
late. Nearly capsizing, her heart beat as the boat rocked back into
safety and she tried to scull after the runaway with the remaining oar.
Her inexperience and the clumsiness of the boat baffled her. The
floating oar rose and fell, gently increasing its distance, and splash
as she might she could not gain upon it.

A curt voice suddenly called from the shore behind her, "Here, girl,
girl! Stop that. Be quiet, and probably you'll float in."

She turned involuntarily, and beheld, standing on the verge, a small,
elderly man wearing a silk hat and scowling while he motioned to her
imperiously.

Obediently she ceased her ineffectual splashing, and the boat danced
and floated shoreward.

"Then why doesn't the oar float in, too?" she asked anxiously.

"Ask Neptune," returned the stranger curtly.

"I mustn't lose that oar," cried the girl.

"Why didn't you take care of it, then?" rejoined the judge, and the
boat just then venturing near him and curtsying, he jumped aboard of
her with an agility that astonished the passenger. The craft rocked in
the shock.

"Sit still," commanded the judge, and Sylvia remained motionless while
he seized the oar, and going to the end of the boat, began sculling
with a practiced hand, which was at strange variance with his costume.

The trouble in Sylvia's eyes vanished, and two little stars danced
therein as she saw by the steady approach of their craft that the lost
was as good as found, and so had leisure to gaze furtively at her
gondolier. The down-drawn corners of the judge's lips, his shaggy frown
at the oar coquetting on the ripples with a breeze which was flapping
the skirts of his formal frock coat, and the firm set forward of his
high silk hat, formed an incongruous picture.

He took no notice of her gaze. "The currents in this basin," he said
half to himself, "are most aggravating."

"They seem to have soured the disposition of the Tide Mill," ventured
Sylvia.

"Eh?" returned the judge, glancing down into the eyes that laughed as
mischievously as the small pearly teeth. The sunshine, glinting in the
silky curls and brightening them to red, seemed laughing too.

"If you've never seen the Tide Mill before, do look at it," she went
on. "Does