"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.