than Junebells? They are so perfect in their
way that they seem to epitomize the very scent and charm of the forest,
as if the old wood's daintiest thoughts had materialized in blossom;
and not all the roses by Bendameer's stream are as fragrant as a shallow
sheet of Junebells under the boughs of fir.

There were fireflies abroad that night, too, increasing the gramarye of
it. There is certainly something a little supernatural about fireflies.
Nobody pretends to understand them. They are akin to the tribes of
fairy, survivals of the elder time when the woods and hills swarmed with
the little green folk. It is still very easy to believe in fairies when
you see those goblin lanterns glimmering among the fir tassels.

"Isn't it beautiful?" said the Story Girl in rapture. "I wouldn't have
missed it for anything. I'm glad I left my necklace. And I am glad you
are with me, Bev. The others wouldn't understand so well. I like you
because I don't have to talk to you all the time. It's so nice to walk
with someone you don't have to talk to. Here is the graveyard. Are you
frightened to pass it, Bev?"

"No, I don't think I'm frightened," I answered slowly, "but I have a
queer feeling."

"So have I. But it isn't fear. I don't know what it is. I feel as if
something was reaching out of the graveyard to hold me--something that
wanted life--I don't like it--let's hurry. But isn't it strange to think
of all the dead people in there who were once alive like you and me. I
don't feel as if I could EVER die. Do you?"

"No, but everybody must. Of course we go on living afterwards, just the
same. Don't let's talk of such things here," I said hurriedly.

When we reached the school I contrived to open a window. We scrambled
in, lighted a lamp and found the missing necklace. The Story Girl stood
on the platform and gave an imitation of the catastrophe of the evening
that made me shout with laughter. We prowled around for sheer delight
over being there at an unearthly hour when everybody supposed we were
sound asleep in our beds. It was with regret that we left, and we walked
home as slowly as we could to prolong the adventure.

"Let's never tell anyone," said the Story Girl, as we reached home.
"Let's just have it as a secret between us for ever and ever--something
that nobody else knows a thing about but you and me."

"We'd better keep it a secret from Aunt Janet anyhow," I whispered,
laughing. "She'd think we were both crazy."

"It's