Grandmother King had been a Ward , and in Uncle Stephen the blood of the seafaring race claimed its own . To sea he must go , despite the pleadings and tears of a reluctant mother ; and it was from the sea he came to set out his avenue in the orchard with trees brought from a foreign land . Then he sailed away again -- and the ship was never heard of more . The gray first came in grandmother 's brown hair in those months of waiting . The , for the first time , the orchard heard the sound of weeping and was consecrated by a sorrow . `` When the blossoms come out it 's wonderful to walk here , '' said the Story Girl . `` It 's like a dream of fairyland -- as if you were walking in a king 's palace . The apples are delicious , and in winter it 's a splendid place for coasting . '' From the Walk we went to the Pulpit Stone -- a huge gray boulder , as high as a man 's head , in the southeastern corner . It was straight and smooth in front , but sloped down in natural steps behind , with a ledge midway on which one could stand . It had played an important part in the games of our uncles and aunts , being fortified castle , Indian ambush , throne , pulpit , or concert platform , as occasion required . Uncle Edward had preached his first sermon at the age of eight from that old gray boulder ; and Aunt Julia , whose voice was to delight thousands , sang her earliest madrigals there . The Story Girl mounted to the ledge , sat on the rim , and looked at us . Pat sat gravely at its base and daintily washed his face with his black paws . `` Now for your stories about the orchard , '' said I. `` There are two important ones , '' said the Story Girl . `` The story of the Poet Who Was Kissed , and the Tale of the Family Ghost . Which one shall I tell ? '' `` Tell them both , '' said Felix greedily , `` but tell the ghost one first . '' `` I do n't know . '' The Story Girl looked dubious .
`` That sort XXXXX story ought to be told in the twilight among the shadows .
From at by despite in like of on to with