phantoms of memory seemed to pace the dappled paths and peep merrily through the swinging boughs -- jem and jerry, bare-legged, sunburned schoolboys, fishing in the brook and frying trout over the old stone fireplace; nan and di and faith, in their dimpled, fresh-eyed childish beauty; una the sweet and shy, carl, poring over ants and bugs, little slangy, sharp-tongued, good-hearted mary vance -- the old walter that had been himself lying on the grass reading poetry or wandering through palaces of fancy.