ck
again, and Mr. Brotherton took to his book shelf, scratched his head and
indicated by his manner that life was too deep a problem for him.

CHAPTER XXXIII

IN WHICH THE ANGELS SHAKE A FOOT FOR HENRY FENN

The business of life largely resolves itself into a preparation for the
next generation. The torch of life moves steadily forward. For children
primarily life has organized itself to satisfy decently and in order,
the insatiate primal hungers that motive mankind. It was with a wisdom
deeper than he understood that George Brotherton spoke one day, as he
stood in his doorway and saw Judge Van Dorn hurrying across the street
to speak to Lila. "There," roared Mr. Brotherton to Nathan Perry, "well,
say--there's the substance all right, man." And then as the Judge turned
wearily away with slinking shoulders to avoid meeting the eyes of his
wife, plump, palpable, and always personable, who came around the
corner, Mr. Brotherton, with a haw-haw of appreciation of his obvious
irony, cried, "And there's the shadow--I don't think." But it was the
substance and the shadow nevertheless, and possibly the Judge knew them
as the considerations of his bargain with the devil. For always he was
trying to regain the substance; to take Lila to his heart, where
curiously there seemed some need of love, even in a heart which was
consecrated in the very temple of love. Without realizing that he was
modifying his habits of life, he began to drop in casually to see the
children's Christmas exercises, and Thanksgiving programs, and Easter
services at John Dexter's church. From the back seat where he always sat
alone, he sometimes saw the wealth of affection that her mother lavished
on Lila, patting her ribbons, smoothing her hair, straightening her
dress, fondling her, correcting her, and watching the child with eyes so
full of love that they did not refrain sometimes from smiling in kindly
appreciation into the eager, burning, tired eyes of the Judge. The
mother understood why he came to the exercises, and often she sent Lila
to her father for a word. The town knew these things, and the Judge knew
that the town knew, and even then he could not keep away. He had to
carry the torch of life, whether he would or not, even though sometimes
it must have scorched his proud, white hands. It was the only thing that
burned with real fire in his heart.

With Laura Van Dorn the fact of her motherhood colored her whole life.
Never a baby was