Well, his sister's child would show him—— At the revengeful impulse Thinkright's face suddenly rose before her with the words he had used about slapping back.
"The evening is perfect," exclaimed Sylvia aloud. The rose-light had begun to crimson the water. It drew her. She ran down the slope to the belt of birch and evergreen which surrounded the basin. Rays from the sinking sun were kissing the sightless upper windows of the Tide Mill until the weather-beaten shutters grew pink.
Sylvia entered the fragrant path she had traversed with her host that afternoon, and followed it toward the point of land beyond the mill. Suddenly a voice clear, bright, yet low-pitched fell on her ears, and almost simultaneously she caught a glimpse of the speaker between the trees.
The girl stood on the brink of the water, talking to some one in a small boat whose sail was flapping. Sylvia could not proceed without coming into sight, so she waited in order not to disturb the adieux. The boat had evidently just landed this passenger, who carried a bag and was dressed in a dark tailor suit.
The skipper, a sun-burned young fellow, was showing a row of strong white teeth at some sally from the lady when Sylvia's eyes fell upon him.
"I wish ye'd let me carry the bag up fer ye," he said.
"No, I'm going to punish myself for not being ready in time for you to sail into the Basin. I ought to know by this time that it's no use arguing with the tide."
"Always seems more sot here than anywhars," agreed the boy.
"Besides, I want you to have time to telephone for that carriage. Don't let them make any mistake. I must catch the one o'clock train."
"Yes. When are ye comin' fer good, Miss Edna?"