A tumbledown stone dyke , overgrown with mosses and grass , surrounded it . Along the eastern side ran a row of garden cherry trees , white as a snowdrift . There were traces of old paths still and a double line of rosebushes through the middle ; but all the rest of the space was a sheet of yellow and white narcissi , in their airiest , most lavish , wind-swayed bloom above the lush green grasses . `` Oh , how perfectly lovely ! '' three of the girls cried . Anne only gazed in eloquent silence . `` How in the world does it happen that there ever was a garden back here ? '' said Priscilla in amazement . `` It must be Hester Gray 's garden , '' said Diana . `` I 've heard mother speak of it but I never saw it before , and I would n't have supposed that it could be in existence still . You 've heard the story , Anne ? '' `` No , but the name seems familiar to me . '' `` Oh , you 've seen it in the graveyard . She is buried down there in the poplar corner . You know the little brown stone with the opening gates carved on it and ` Sacred to the memory of Hester Gray , aged twenty-two . ' Jordan Gray is buried right beside her but there 's no stone to him . It 's a wonder Marilla never told you about it , Anne . To be sure , it happened thirty years ago and everybody has forgotten . '' `` Well , if there 's a story we must have it , '' said Anne . `` Let 's sit right down here among the narcissi and Diana will tell it .
Why , girls , there are hundreds XXXXX them ... they 've spread over everything .
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