of them no more. But this story came home to them. The old
Bailey garden was almost at their very door--almost in their
beloved Rainbow Valley. They had passed and repassed it
constantly; they had hunted for flowers in it; they had made
short cuts through it when they wished to go straight from the
village to the valley. But never again! After the night when
Mary Vance told them its gruesome tale they would not have gone
through or near it on pain of death. Death! What was death
compared to the unearthly possibility of falling into the
clutches of Henry Warren's grovelling ghost?

One warm July evening the three of them were sitting under the
Tree Lovers, feeling a little lonely. Nobody else had come near
the valley that evening. Jem Blythe was away in Charlottetown,
writing on his entrance examinations. Jerry and Walter Blythe
were off for a sail on the harbour with old Captain Crawford.
Nan and Di and Rilla and Shirley had gone down the harbour road
to visit Kenneth and Persis Ford, who had come with their parents
for a flying visit to the little old House of Dreams. Nan had
asked Faith to go with them, but Faith had declined. She would
never have admitted it, but she felt a little secret jealousy of
Persis Ford, concerning whose wonderful beauty and city glamour
she had heard a great deal. No, she wasn't going to go down
there and play second fiddle to anybody. She and Una took their
story books to Rainbow Valley and read, while Carl investigated
bugs along the banks of the brook, and all three were happy until
they suddenly realized that it was twilight and that the old
Bailey garden was uncomfortably near by. Carl came and sat down
close to the girls. They all wished they had gone home a little
sooner, but nobody said anything.