“Just now. I walked up. I've been out to Wauchung since I saw you the other day, but there was no use trying to stay there. You see--what I said about being down here on business was all a fib--I was afraid to own up.” “Afraid,” she stood looking at him, with such a peculiar expression that he feared another delay. “Never mind now; I'll tell you all about it when we get out. I want to walk up to the blackberry patch where I saw you the first day.” She went without a word for her things, still with that odd, sober expression; and in a few moments they were walking up the path toward the lower slopes of the mountain. “You--you said you had been to Wauchung?” she remarked by way of breaking the silence. “Yes. I stayed there about twenty minutes. You see--I can laugh at it now, but I couldn't then--I've been sort of a fool. When I wrote those letters and you didn't answer, and then when I went to your house and found that you'd come down here without a word to me, I was all broken up, and my nerve just left me. And then finally I did manage to get down here, and you didn't seem very glad to see me, and I don't doubt I was jealous of the Green fellow. I had forgotten then that after that night in Evanston--that when you had once let me know what you let me know then--you never would change. You see, I know you better than you think, Margaret. I've seen since that it was my fault--that I've been expecting you to say things it was my business to say for myself--and that there couldn't anything but little misunderstandings come between us after--after that. And--and------” He paused to look at her. She would have liked a broad hat, a sunbonnet, anything that would have shielded her face from him, but her little tarn was merciless, and she could only study the path. Another moment and he had to fall behind her.