"When I was a right little girl," Cynthia went on, "I lived up at
Stoneledge with Aunt Ann; she was my real aunt. I had a mighty queer
life for a little girl and I reckon I would have fared mighty bad if I
hadn't had a secret life!"

"You bad child!" Treadwell cried, shaking his finger at her; "a double
life, eh?"

"Yes." The sweet smile gave Lans a bad moment. "Yes. In that-er-life
I had all the things I wanted; all the folks I liked, and it just kept
me--going! Sometimes I wish, oh! how I wish, that Sandy had a nice
little other life, free of work and worry and loneliness, where he
could--let go! Sandy does hold on so!"

"I wish I could have been in your 'other life'," Lans whispered.

"Oh! real folks never got there!"

"Well, if it will comfort you any," Treadwell broke in with an
uncomfortable sense of being an off-mountaineer, "Sandy has--another
life."

"Really?" Cynthia flushed and curiosity swayed her. She had never had
so good an opportunity to know the man Sandy; she might never have
again. "Really? and folks, right magic folks to--to play with?"

Treadwell thought of the Markhams and grinned; then he thought of
Sandy's secret relations with the girl his aunt had told him of and he
grew imaginative. "Yes. Now there is a man in Sandy's other world, a
grim, rather stern man, but he has a magic wand that he lets Sandy wave
now and then--it's great fun!"

"Oh! you mean the Company?"

"Exactly. That's his pet name. And there is a nice old fairy
godmother who brews wonderful mixtures for Sandy and darns his socks
and makes believe, when no one is listening, that she is his mother."

"I should love her, the honey!"

Treadwell stopped and gave a big, hearty laugh. Matilda Markham as a
"honey" was about the most comical thing he had ever dreamed of.

"And is there"--the drawling sweetness of Cynthia's voice was moving
Treadwell dangerously--"is there something young and pretty and mighty
bright, too?"

"Yes." Treadwell's laugh was gone.

"A--girl--I reckon?"

"Yes, a girl--just girl enough, you know, to keep him--like--well--like
other fellows."

"Oh!" Cynthia smiled, but her eyes grew as gray as the day; the blue
faded from them. "I hope she is a mighty nice, upperty girl."

"I'm only playing, you know," Lans broke in. "I am imagining a life
for Sandy something like your old secret life. It's all fun."

"You mean--Sandy has an--an imagination?"

"Precisely."

But the "girl