Adams whirled around. His big jaw muscles worked in knots before he spoke; his blue eyes were set and raging. But he looked at the floor an instant before crying: "You go to hell!" And an instant later, the lank figure had left the room, slamming the door after him. Grant heard the telephone bell ringing, and heard the girl's voice answering it, then he went to the doctor's office. As he was writing the words "At Home" on the slate on the door, he could hear Miss Mauling at the telephone. "Yes," and again, "Yes," and then, "Is there any message," and finally she giggled, "All right, I'll call him." Then Grant stalked down the stairs. The receiver was hanging down. The Doctor at the other end of the wire could hear a man and a woman laughing. Van Dorn stepped to the instrument and said: "Yes, Doctor." Then, "What--well, you don't say!" And still again, "Yes, he was just here this minute; shall I call him back?" And before hanging up the receiver, he said, "Why, of course, I'll come right out." The Judge-elect turned gracefully around, smiling complacently: "Well, Violet--it's your bet. It's a girl!" The court stenographer poked a teasing forefinger at him and whittled it with another in glee. Then, as if remembering something, she asked: "How's your wife?" Van Dorn's face was blank for an instant. "By George--that's so. I forgot to ask." He started to pick up the telephone receiver, but checked himself. He pulled his broad-brimmed hat over his eyes, and started for the door, waving merrily and rubbing his chin with his flower. "Ta ta," he called as he saw the last of her flashing smile through the closing door. And thus into a world where only the fittest survive that day came Lila Van Dorn,--the child of a mother's love. CHAPTER XV WHEREIN WE WELCOME IN A NEW YEAR AND CONSIDER A SERIOUS QUESTION The journey around the sun is a long and tumultuous one. Many of us jolt off the earth as we ride, others of us are turned over and thrown into strange and absurd positions, and a few of us sit tight and edge along, a little further toward the soft seats. But as we whirl by the stations, returning ever and again to the days that are precious in our lives, to the seasons that give us greatest joy, we measure our gains, on the long journey, in terms of what we love. "A little over a year ago to-night, my dear," chirruped Dr. Nesbit, pulling a gray hair from his temple where hairs of any kind were becoming scarce enough. "A year, a month, and a week and a day ago to-night the town and the Harvey brass band came out here and they tramped up the blue grass so that it won't get back in a dozen years. "Well," he mused, as the fire burned, "I got 'em all their jobs, I got two or three good medical laws passed, and I hope I have made some people happy." "Yes, my dear," answered his wife. "In that year little Lila has come into short dresses, and Kenyon Adams has learned to play on the piano, and is taking up the violin."