At lunch she asked her aunt about the children whom she had met.
"They are the Rectory children," said her aunt. "Of course they would not speak to you. They did not know who you were."
"But I could have told them in a minute," said Harebell promptly; "I was ready to tell them everything."
"You ought not to have spoken to them at all. We don't do those kind of things in England."
Harebell said no more. In the afternoon she walked out with her aunt, and for the greater part of the time they walked in silence.
At last Harebell gave a little chuckling laugh.
"I can't help it," she said, looking up, and seeing her aunt's glance of surprise; "we never do this kind of thing in India, except the natives, when they're doing a pilgrimage. I was pretending to myself that you and me was doing one; and I wondered when we should stop, and then I began to count your slow, solemn steps, and it made me think of a walking doll I had; and then I thought p'r'aps you walked out for your sins; my ayah told me of some fakirs who did it, and I wondered what your sins were like, and then I laughed, for I was making up some for you!"
She paused for breath.
"I don't think you are called upon to tell me all your thoughts," her aunt said gravely.
"But I shall really burst if I don't. I feel just like that, unless you would tell me yours. That would be most interesting!"