CHAPTER III . THE INGLESIDE CHILDREN In daytime the Blythe children liked very well to play in the rich , soft greens and glooms of the big maple grove between Ingleside and the Glen St. Mary pond ; but for evening revels there was no place like the little valley behind the maple grove . It was a fairy realm of romance to them . Once , looking from the attic windows of Ingleside , through the mist and aftermath of a summer thunderstorm , they had seen the beloved spot arched by a glorious rainbow , one end of which seemed to dip straight down to where a corner of the pond ran up into the lower end of the valley . `` Let us call it Rainbow Valley , '' said Walter delightedly , and Rainbow Valley thenceforth it was . Outside of Rainbow Valley the wind might be rollicking and boisterous . Here it always went gently . Little , winding , fairy paths ran here and there over spruce roots cushioned with moss . Wild cherry trees , that in blossom time would be misty white , were scattered all over the valley , mingling with the dark spruces . A little brook with amber waters ran through it from the Glen village . The houses of the village were comfortably far away ; only at the upper end of the valley was a little tumble-down , deserted cottage , referred to as `` the old Bailey house . '' It had not been occupied for many years , but a grass-grown dyke surrounded it and inside was an ancient garden where the Ingleside children could find violets and daisies and June lilies still blooming in season . For the rest , the garden was overgrown with caraway that swayed and foamed in the moonshine of summer eves like seas of silver . To the sought lay the pond and beyond it the ripened distance lost itself in purple woods , save where , on a high hill , a solitary old gray homestead looked down on glen and harbour . There was a certain wild woodsiness and solitude about Rainbow Valley , in spite of its nearness to the village , which endeared it to the children of Ingleside . The valley was full of dear , friendly hollows and the largest of these was their favourite stamping ground . Here they were assembled on this particular evening . There was a grove of young spruces in this hollow , with a tiny , grassy glade in its heart , opening on the bank of the brook . By the brook grew a silver birch-tree , a young , incredibly straight thing which Walter had named the `` White Lady . '' In this glade , too , were the `` Tree Lovers , '' as Walter called a spruce and maple which grew so closely together that their boughs were inextricably intertwined .
Jem had hung an old string of sleigh-bells , given him XXXXX the Glen blacksmith , on the Tree Lovers , and every visitant breeze called out sudden fairy tinkles from it .
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