These questions went so straight to the core of the affair, and were so peculiarly difficult to answer, that Lawrence, for the moment, found himself in the very unusual position of not knowing what to say, but he presently remarked: "Do you think it is of any advantage to either of us to talk over this affair, which is now past and gone?"
"I don't want to talk over any of it," said Annie, very promptly, "except the part of it which is referred to in this letter; but I want to know about that."
"That covers the most important part of it," said Lawrence.
"Very good," she answered, "and so you can tell it to me. And now, that I think of it, you can tell me, at the same time, why you wanted to find my cousin Junius. You refused once to tell me that, you know."
"I remember," said Lawrence. "And if you have the least feeling about it I will relate the whole affair, from beginning to end."
"That, perhaps, will be the best thing to do, after all," said Annie. "And suppose we take a walk over the fields, and then you can tell it without being interrupted."
But Lawrence did not feel that his ankle would allow him to accept this invitation, for it had hurt him a good deal since his walk to Aunt Patsy's cabin. He said so to Annie, and excited in her the deepest feelings of commiseration.
"You must take no more walks of any length," she exclaimed, "until you are quite, quite well! It was my fault that you took that tramp to Aunt Patsy's. I ought to have known better. But then," she said, looking up at him, "you were not under my charge. I shall take very good care of you now."
"For my part," he said, "I am glad I have this little relapse, for now
I can stay here longer."
"I am very, very sorry for the relapse," said she, "but awfully glad for the stay. And you mustn't stand another minute. Let us go and sit in the arbor. The sun is shining straight into it, and that will make it all the more comfortable, while you are telling me about those things."