lvia ran along the shore toward them. "You can still get inside the
basin," she called impulsively, not realizing that the possibilities of
the locality were an old story to Benny. The latter looked up
inquiringly toward the voice, but it was the passenger who replied, "No
doubt we could, but we have to get out of the basin again, that's the
trouble." With these words the speaker, a little woman in a shade hat,
sprang up and scrambled ashore.

Sylvia paused. Why should she have supposed that the blue-eyed Benny
never carried any passenger except Miss Derwent? This one wore a dress
of dark blue denim, and her hat was tied securely under the chin by a
ribbon which passed over its crown.

The stranger looked up from under its shade and peered at Sylvia
through her eye-glasses, at first indifferently, and then with a start.

"Can this be Sylvia Lacey!" she exclaimed, hastening toward the
bareheaded girl. Sylvia had caught up her books and pillow and now
stood with her arms full, her color coming and going as she braced
herself. All the scene in the hotel returned. The hurt and soreness
clamored to be felt again. It was a moment of acute struggle. Before
her eyes the Tide Mill rose, its closed shutters resolutely hugging
past injuries and excluding the besieging sunlight that searched every
crevice to pour in warmth and light.

Miss Martha read something of her niece's thoughts. She had undertaken
this visit with dread, and the sudden encounter made her rather
tremulous; but, above all things, Benny Merritt must suspect nothing.

"It's the very first day I could come over, my dear," she said
hurriedly, "what with home cares and a rough sea; I'm not the best of
sailors, but I've thought of you often. Now Benny," turning to him,
"I'll be back at this very spot in one hour. I shan't fail, understand,
so don't sail off anywhere, or else we shan't reach home in time for
tea. Let us get over these rocks into the woods, Sylvia, and then I can
take some of your traps. How well you are looking, my dear child."

The very voice was painful to her niece in its associations, but the
girl followed as Miss Lacey briskly moved off into the woods before a
word could be said to lead Benny into speculation.

Sylvia, while she followed, asked herself if her prayer had been aught
beside empty words. Was she really desirous of proving the nothingness
of all things that excluded the light? She seemed to see Thinkright
looking straight into