e form of the irritable declaration caused Sylvia to view her
companion with large eyes.

"Now you're here you might as well take a lesson," went on the judge.
"Try rowing a bit. If you're going to stay here you'll need to know
how."

"But I'm not going to stay here," rejoined Sylvia quickly.

"Why not?" The odd little man scowled so intently at her that the girl
began to feel uneasy and glanced shoreward.

"If you detest all your other relations and love Thinkright then why
isn't his home the place for you?"

"It--the trouble is it isn't his home."

"Whose, then?" Judge Trent braced himself in expectation of the answer.

"The farm belongs to--to a celebrated lawyer who uses it for a summer
home," replied the girl.

"Make friends with him," suggested the judge.

Sylvia's breath caught. "If--if you knew how I don't want to and how--I
must!" she returned naively.

Her companion smiled grimly. "Well, here, now,--he's an old curmudgeon,
I know him,--never mind him. Let's have a rowing lesson. Take the
oars,--there, at that point. Now!" The speaker bent toward the young
girl, and his dry hands closed over hers. She glanced at him half in
fright, and away again as he guided her awkward movements until the
boat moved slowly, but with tolerable evenness, through the water. "Now
you're getting it, you see," he said at last.

Sylvia began to forget her embarrassment in interest.

"Not too deep,--only bury the oar." The speaker glanced up into the
eager face so near him. Coral lips, pearly teeth, sunny
curls,--loneliness, the stage, an actor husband--

"Turn it right there, steadily; see the water drip off? That's the
way"--

Himself with his nose buried in a pile of papers, Martha hysterical,
Dunham morose, but himself always unmoved. Laura's baby! He remembered
that he had sent her a silver cup when she was born.

"Look out, a steady pull,--steady. That's enough now. You're tired.
This boat is a tub. You should have a light one."

Sylvia laughed, and let her teacher pull the oars across the boat.

"Now we'll float a while," he said, resuming his seat in the bow. "So
Thinkright wants you to forgive everybody; love everybody, eh? I know
that's his tack."

Sylvia was breathing fast from her exertions. "Yes," she nodded. "I've
never had much practice in loving people."

"No? That's the Trent in you."

She lifted her eyes in surprise at the abrupt reply. He nodded. "You
said Thinkright's your cousin, then so