You know remembering things is like looking back over a road.

At least it always seemed that way to me, and the unpleasant things that have happened are like the stones and rocks that we stumble over.

But if there haven't been any unpleasant things to remember, then we can look back and see it stretched out behind us, all smooth and white and shining.
"So I tried from the very first of my visit to leave nothing behind me for her memory to stumble over; not a frown, a cross word, or a single disobedience.

That's why I wouldn't go with you that day to have my fortune told.

It would have spoiled my 'Road of the Loving Heart,' and put a stone in it that would always have made godmother sorry when she thought of my visit.
"That's why I came back from the picnic at the old mill and missed the charades.