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 . `` Is n't it beautiful ? '' said the Story Girl in rapture . `` I would n't have missed it for anything . I 'm glad I left my necklace . And I am glad you are with me , Bev . The others would n't understand so well . I like you because I do n't have to talk to you all the time . It 's so nice to walk with someone you do n't have to talk to . Here is the graveyard . Are you frightened to pass it , Bev ? '' `` No , I do n't think I 'm frightened , '' I answered slowly , `` but I have a queer feeling . '' `` So have I . But it is n't fear . I do n't know what it is .
I feel as if XXXXX was reaching out of the graveyard to hold me -- something that wanted life -- I do n't like it -- let 's hurry .
charm fairies graveyard necklace others roses someone something time wood