n't it seem as if it was refusing to be comforted?"

"It couldn't make its salt," remarked the judge briefly.

"Queer, with so much about," returned Sylvia demurely.

The lawyer caught her starry gaze again. He took no notice of her
little joke.

"Can you swim?" he asked sternly.

"No," she returned.

"Then you've no business out here in a boat without some older person."

Sylvia was wearing Minty's blue sweater, and the heated, rosy face
above it looked like that of a child. Judge Trent after his unexpected
arrival had come down to the Basin to search for the pale and mourning
niece concerning whom his conscience had been awakened. He had been
looking for the black-clothed figure on the walk, at the moment when
the dilemma of the awkward child in the boat had attracted his
attention.

"The children of this neighborhood should every one be taught to swim
and manage a boat, girls as well as boys," he went on. "They are not.
It is a very stupid mistake."

"I do want to learn very much," returned Sylvia meekly. "Minty Foster,
a little girl here, has given me one lesson, and I came out to practice
this afternoon."

"Minty can row very well," said the judge. "I hope you've learned a
lesson about watching your tools. Experience is a good teacher." As he
spoke he reached the runaway oar and snatched it up dripping.

"Oh, I'm so much obliged," said Sylvia. She possessed a dimple in one
cheek, and it was very busy while Judge Trent, his lips down-drawn,
pushed both oars through the rowlocks beside her.

This accomplished, he sat down in the end of the boat and looked at
her. She grasped the oars, wondering what he expected her to do. She
felt that it would be a dangerous thing to splash that broadcloth, and
she dared not laugh beneath the frowning, speculative gaze.

"I thought I knew all the people around these parts," he said, while
Sylvia let the boat float. "I never saw you before."

"I'm a visitor," returned the girl. "Isn't it beautiful here?"

"There isn't any better place in this world," returned the lawyer
impassively, "and I doubt very much if there is in the next."

He saw now that his companion was older than he had thought. He
recalled, too, that she had made some comment on the Tide Mill.

"What was it you said about the Tide Mill?" he asked.

"Only that it _will_ look so sad and unapproachable even when the sun
shines like this; as if its feelings had been hurt and it could never
pardon or fo