I've had my doubts about that imagination of yours right along, and if this is going to be the outcome of it, I won't countenance any such doings.

You'll go right over to Barry's, and you'll go through that spruce grove, just for a lesson and a warning to you.

And never let me hear a word out of your head about haunted woods again." Anne might plead and cry as she liked--and did, for her terror was very real.

Her imagination had run away with her and she held the spruce grove in mortal dread after nightfall.

But Marilla was inexorable.