"It seems to me that the little girls Diana and I used to be play here still, and sit by the Dryad's Bubble in the twilights, trysting with the ghosts.

Do you know, I can never go up this path in the dusk without feeling a bit of the old fright and shiver?
There was one especially horrifying phantom which we created--the ghost of the murdered child that crept up behind you and laid cold fingers on yours.

I confess that, to this day, I cannot help fancying its little, furtive footsteps behind me when I come here after nightfall.

I'm not afraid of the White Lady or the headless man or the skeletons, but I wish I had never imagined that baby's ghost into existence.

How angry Marilla and Mrs.Barry were over that affair," concluded Anne, with reminiscent laughter.
The woods around the head of the marsh were full of purple vistas, threaded with gossamers.