Then they parted. He walked into the post office, and she walked on to the Wright & Perry store. But instead of returning to his office, he lounged into Mr. Brotherton's and sat on a bench in the Amen Corner, biting a cigar, waiting for traffic to clear out. Then he said: "George, how is Henry Fenn doing--really?" His soft, brown hat was tipped over his eyes and his ulster, unbuttoned, displayed his fine figure, and he was clearly proud of it. Brotherton hesitated while he invoiced a row of books. "Old trouble?" prompted Judge Van Dorn. "Old trouble," echoed Mr. Brotherton--"about every three months since he's been married; something terrible the last time. But say--there's a man that's sorry afterwards, and what he doesn't buy for her after a round with the joy-water isn't worth talking about. So far, he's been able to square her that way--I take it. But say--that'll wear off, and then--" Mr. Brotherton winked a large, mournful, devilish wink as one who was hanging out a storm flag. Judge Van Dorn twirled his mustache, patted his necktie, jostled his hat and smiled, waiting for further details. Instead, he faced a question: "Why did Henry quit the law for real estate, Judge--the old trouble?" Judge Van Dorn echoed, and added: "Folks pretty generally know about it, and they don't trust their law business in that kind of hands. Poor Henry--poor devil," sighed the young Judge, and then said: "By the way, George, send up a box of cigars--the kind old Henry likes best, to my house. I'm going to have him and the missus over some evening." Mr. Brotherton's large back was turned when the last phrase was uttered, and Mr. Brotherton made a little significant face at his shelves, and the thought occurred to Mr. Brotherton that Henry Fenn was not the only man whom people pretty generally knew about. After some further talk about Fenn and his affairs, Van Dorn primped a moment before the mirror in the cigar cutter and started for the door. "By the by, your honor, I forgot about the Mayor's miners' relief fund. How is it now?" asked Van Dorn. "Something past ten thousand here in the county." "Any one beat my subscription?" asked Van Dorn. Brotherton turned around and replied: "Yes--Amos Adams was in here five minutes ago. He has mortgaged his place and so long as he and Grant can't find kith or kin of Chopini, and Mrs. Herdicker would take nothing--Amos has put $1,500 into the fund. Done it just now--him and Grant." The Judge took the paper, looked at the scrawl of the Adamses, and scratching out his subscription, put two thousand where there had been one thousand. He showed it to Brotherton, and added with a smile: "Who'll call that--I wonder."