lacking in ordinary mentality, and this thought was like a dash of ice
water on his growing chilliness. He became awkward and nervous. He
felt like a man who had run headlong to a goal only to find that it was
the wrong one, with no strength or power to retrace his steps he owed
to defeat and failure, and in that mood he sought Sandy.

CHAPTER XXIII

Marcia Lowe was mistaken. Sandy did not know. He knew that Treadwell
had not returned the evening before, but Tansey Moore, who was now
manager of Crothers' new factory, had told him that Treadwell had gone
to look up a piece of land back of Sudley's Gap, and the storm had
naturally detained him.

The sudden growth of intimacy between Crothers and Lans surprised and
amused Sandy. Full well he realized Crothers' motive, and he could
afford to laugh at that, but he felt annoyed and hurt at Lans's weak
falling into the trap. The disloyalty to himself did not affect Sandy,
he was far too sensible and simple a man to care deeply for that, and
it somehow made it easier for him to reconcile his conscience to the
growing distrust and contempt he had for Treadwell, but he disliked the
idea of Crothers using his friend to gain his mean ends.

"Lans is not one to tie up to," he said to himself, and then smiled at
the quaint expression which he had learned from Levi. "And to-morrow I
will tell him that I must make ready for the Markhams."

The day after Cynthia's marriage Sandy had gone early to the buildings.
He and Martin had worked hard; settled a difficulty among the men,
which they both felt confident Crothers had instigated, and, upon
reaching home late in the afternoon Sandy was told that Old Andrew
Townley was ill and wanted him. Liza Hope had sent word.

"I reckon you can wait to eat," Sally Taber had suggested; "ole Andy
has been dyin' with consumption ever since dat time when he went to The
Forge an' got baptized in his wife's night shift--him not being able to
get a robe! Andy took a mighty stiff chill that-er-day an' it war like
a finger pintin' the way to his grave. Andy war thirty when he waddled
into de Branch in dem swaddling clothes, an' he's over ninety now. I
expect he can hol' on till you've tended to yo' stummick."

But Sandy had not waited. He went to Andrew and found the old man
wandering on to the end of his journey in a very happy frame of mind.
He was, to himself, no longer the weak creature dying in his poor
cabin. Lying on the co