I was poking about under them lilacs in the old garden , trying to see if there was any lilies-of-the-valley out yet . It was dark as a pocket there -- and all at once I seen something stirring and rustling round at the other side of the garden , in those cherry bushes . It was WHITE . I tell you I did n't stop for a second look . I flew over the dyke quicker than quick . I was sure it was Henry Warren 's ghost . '' `` Who was Henry Warren ? '' asked Di . `` And why should he have a ghost ? '' asked Nan . `` Laws , did you never hear the story ? And you brought up in the Glen . Well , wait a minute till I get by breath all back and I 'll tell you . '' Walter shivered delightsomely . He loved ghost stories . Their mystery , their dramatic climaxes , their eeriness gave him a fearful , exquisite pleasure . Longfellow instantly grew tame and commonplace . He threw the book aside and stretched himself out , propped upon his elbows to listen whole-heartedly , fixing his great luminous eyes on Mary 's face . Mary wished he would n't look at her so . She felt she could make a better job of the ghost story if Walter were not looking at her .
She could put XXXXX several frills and invent a few artistic details to enhance the horror .
by for if of on over than till under upon