"It's very nice of you, but really I'd be better alone."
"I think not," Mr. Johns said gently; "I hope you won't forbid me to come."
He looked so big, and kind, and honest, and withal so hopelessly uncomfortable, that Lallie's face softened and laughter crept back into her eyes.
"It's really very nice of you to want to come when I'm in such a bad temper. Let's go this way, where there's no people, and perhaps presently I'll feel better and we'll talk."
For nearly ten minutes Lallie pounded along in dead silence as fast as she could go. Then she began to notice that the pace which was rapidly reducing her to a state of breathless collapse had no sort of effect upon her companion, who, hands in his pockets, appeared to be strolling along in an easy sort of saunter at her side.
"This is ignominious," she exclaimed; "here am I walking as if for a wager, and you don't seem hurrying one bit."
"Am I walking too fast for you?" Mr. Johns asked, in poignant self reproach. "I am so sorry; you see, I don't often walk with ladies."
"It isn't you at all, it's me; I'm walking too fast for myself, and it's so aggravating to see somebody alongside perfectly cool and composed. If I could leave you behind, or you had to trot to keep up with me, it wouldn't be half so trying. As it is I give in. For mercy's sake let's sit on this seat for a minute. You may talk to me now. I no longer feel like tearing the hair off Miss Foster. Tell me now, what was it I did to draw such an avalanche of abuse upon me?"
Side by side they sat down upon one of the hard green seats that are placed at convenient intervals in every road leading out of Hamchester.
Lallie's cheeks were quite rosy after her rapid walk. Her grey eyes were clear and limpid again, candid and inquiring as a child's. Mr. Johns gazing into them felt compelled to speak the truth.