"No, indeed. Rich relations. I am the poor relation, that is the trouble; but—if you know Thinkright you can imagine how he talks to me about it."
"Preaches. I suppose so. Hard on you."
"No." Sylvia shook her head and patted the water with an oar. "He has helped me. He knows wonderful ways of helping people."
"Well, I'll thank him not to send you out in this water in a boat that you don't know how to manage."
The 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."