“I never heard of it. Is it very far away?”
“It’s farther than anything—farther even than the place where the winds meet.”
“And what do you do there? You must have bags and bags of gold, O Spirit.”
“Yes. Of course. I practice hiding things with them. That is why no one ever found a bag of gold at the end of a rainbow. I have put countless ones in the cave of lost treasure. There are a great many things there besides the bags of gold,—things that parents, and uncles, and aunts lose,—and never find any more.”
“I wish I could visit the place,” I said with a sigh. “It would be pleasant to see a storehouse like that. It would have, I may say, a strong personal interest. Only yesterday I contributed a valued scarf-pin through the agency of a certain mischievous niece; and I shall be long in recovering from the loss of that miraculous putter that made me a terror on the links. My golf can never be the same again.”
“But you never can see the place,” she declared. “A time comes when you can’t find it any more, the cave of lost treasure—or the place where four winds meet—or the end of all the rainbows.”
“I suppose I have lost my chance,” I said.
“Oh, long ago!” exclaimed the Spirit disdainfully. “It never lasts beyond six!”
“That has a wise sound. Pray tell me more! Tell me, I beg, how you have endured this harsh world so long.”
This, I thought, was a poser; but she answered readily enough.