'But why,' Lucy asked, 'do you have the big silver bowls with nothing in
them?'

Mr. Noah sighed. 'The bowls are for dessert,' he said.

'But there isn't any dessert _in_ them,' Lucy objected.

'No,' said Mr. Noah, sighing again, 'that's just it. There is no
dessert. There has never been any dessert. Will you have a little more
angel pudding?'

It was quite plain to Lucy and Philip that Mr. Noah wished to change the
subject, which, for some reason, was a sad one, and with true politeness
they both said 'Yes, please,' to the angel pudding offer, though they
had already had quite as much as they really needed.

After dinner Mr. Noah took them for a walk through the town, 'to see the
factories,' he said. This surprised Philip, who had been taught not to
build factories with his bricks because factories were so ugly, but the
factories turned out to be pleasant, long, low houses, with tall French
windows opening into gardens of roses, where people of all nations made
beautiful and useful things, and loved making them. And all the people
who were making them looked clean and happy.

'I wish we had factories like those,' Philip said. 'Our factories _are_
so ugly. Helen says so.'

'That's because all your factories are _money_ factories,' said Mr.
Noah, 'though they're called by all sorts of different names. Every one
here has to make something that isn't just money or _for_
money--something useful _and_ beautiful.'

'Even you?' said Lucy.

'Even I,' said Mr. Noah.

'What do you make?' the question was bound to come.

'Laws, of course,' Mr. Noah answered in some surprise. 'Didn't you know
I was the Chief Judge?'

'But laws can't be useful and beautiful, can they?'

'They can certainly be useful,' said Mr. Noah, 'and,' he added with
modest pride, 'my laws are beautiful. What do you think of this?
"Everybody must try to be kind to everybody else. Any one who has been
unkind must be sorry and say so."'

'It seems all right,' said Philip, 'but it's not exactly beautiful.'

'Oh, don't you think so?' said Mr. Noah, a little hurt; 'it mayn't
_sound_ beautiful perhaps--I never could write poetry--but it's quite
beautiful when people do it.'

'Oh, if you mean your laws are beautiful when they're _kept_,' said
Philip.

'Beautiful things can't be beautiful when they're broken, of course,'
Mr. Noah explained. 'Not even laws. But ugly laws are only beautiful
when they _are_ broken. That's odd, isn't it? Laws are ve