"It's beautiful. I shall have all sorts of fine times with it. Think of throwing a lot of cushions inside, and taking a good story, then rowing out into the middle of the basin to float and read. All the trees would be leaning forward and beckoning, and I shouldn't know which The Rosy Cloud would favor." Thinkright clasped his knee. "The Tide Mill would do its share of beckoning, remember. Look out for the current." "The poor old thing!" remarked Sylvia. "Sometimes the mill looks so dignified and pathetic that I sympathize with it, and then again it seems just sulky and obstinate." "We're very apt to read our feelings into the landscape," returned the other. "Yes," went on the girl, her eyes as she leaned on her cousin's shoulder resting on the deserted, weather-beaten building in the distance, "when I first came, my heart just yearned toward that old mill. It looked just as I felt. It had made up its mind never to forgive. I had made up my mind never to forgive. Love has opened my locked shutters, and do you know, Thinkright, some afternoons those closed mill blinds seem to be melting in the sun. They grow so soft and rosy, I watch them fascinated. It seems as if they were giving way and I find myself expecting to see them slowly turn back. Oh," impulsively, "I want them to turn back! Couldn't we get a ladder and row out there some day and climb up and open them?" Thinkright smiled. "They're nailed tight, dear, and they don't belong to us." Sylvia shook her head. "Well," she persisted whimsically, "I believe they will open some time. I shan't be content until they do; and somehow or other I shall be mixed up with it." "Is that the good thing you are expecting?" asked Thinkright, smiling, "to become a house-breaker?" "No. Love will open the shutters yet. You don't understand me." "Nothing that Love should accomplish would surprise me in the least," was the response. "Well, what is your hope then,--the thing you referred to a few minutes ago?" Sylvia's eyes looked across the water. "I'd better not tell you yet," she replied. "It isn't your problem. It's mine." "Very well," agreed Thinkright. "Just keep remembering 'Thy will be done,'--His great Will for good. His great Will that all shall be on earth as it is in heaven; that all shall be good and harmonious; and then your own little will and its puny strength won't get in the way, and you will find yourself helping to carry out your Father's designs." Sylvia took a deep breath. "That is what I want to do. Once I should have been so happy, so contented to float in my boat with cushions and a good story!" "Well," Thinkright smiled, "I hope you're not going to lose that ability. It has its place." Sylvia turned her curly head until she met his shining eyes. "I'm too strong now to play all the time," she said. Her companion patted her arm. "Mrs. Lem says you are a regular busy bee." "Yes, but she did perfectly well without me."