"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. "Doesn'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.