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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.
"It's a worse problem than the fox and the goose and the corn," said John. "As Benny says, he can't swim back. I foresee a tragic future for Thinkright's boat, plying restlessly between Hawk Island and the Tide Mill, driven by the inexorable fate that hounded the Wandering Jew." "We'll send two boys and an extra boat," returned Edna. "The island is rich in both commodities."
Then she sank back again, narrowed her eyes, and looked off at the skyline, the distant dark clump of trees on Hawk Island; the nearer shore of Walrus Island; the ineffable sky. Oh, oh, for paints, for brushes, for paper, in other words, for money! Health and strength were returning to her in full measure. What work was awaiting her? There was no room in Thinkright's universe for drones.
Perhaps Sylvia had revolted against being immured on a New England farm and had escaped to Nat. The judge dropped the letter and stared ahead of him. Thinkright's implied accusation nettled him more than all Miss Martha's tearful reproaches. For the first time his duty toward his niece presented itself as so reasonable as to be impossible of escape.
Of course we're three lone, lorn people, and Thinkright's less closely related to the child than we; but neither the judge nor I would feel it right" here conscience reared until it threatened to stop her speech altogether. "Will you wait till your advice is asked?" she demanded in fierce, silent parenthesis.
To this he had replied that he was a passenger, and that, as Edna had undertaken to discover a genius in his family, he would not interfere with any dramatic effect upon which she had set her heart. The two girls ascended the hill, one on each side of him, and Sylvia's heart sank as he asked Thinkright's whereabouts.
When Judge Trent's here and somethin' goes wrong, and he scowls under them brows o' his, I often feel like sayin' to him, 'Thinkright ain't even afraid of his Creator; and I guess he ain't goin' to care for a few scowls o' yours. Judge Trent gees and haws some, but he always has to come around if Thinkright's sure he's right.
She was sorely tempted to tell him, but the old motive restrained her in time. That was not the way for the solution to come, merely by making herself a heavier tax upon Thinkright's simple fortunes. "Then you have some definite idea of what you would like to do?" he asked. His manner was quiet, but there was a note of mental exultation within him at the healthful symptom.
"Oh, I wish you would tell me more," begged Miss Martha. "Did she treat you decently before you came away?" "Oh, yes. You know Thinkright's peculiar notions. His hell-fire is right here or nowhere, and he's been teaching Sylvia how to keep her toes out of the flames, how to climb up out of these lowlands of sorrow. She was pretty well stranded after years of vagabond life.
When he arrived at the point describing his niece's caressing his picture he slowly ejaculated, "Get out." And when the matter concerned Thinkright's renouncing his care of the farm the reader made use of the same words, vigorously varying the emphasis thus: "Get out." John speculated upon the information Judge Trent was receiving.
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