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 very tricky things.' 'I say,' Philip said suddenly, as they climbed one of the steep flights of steps between trees in pots, 'couldn't we do another of the deeds now? I don't feel as if I'd really done anything to-day at all. It was Lucy who did the carpet. Do tell us the next deed.' 'The next deed,' Mr. Noah answered, 'will probably take some time. There's no reason why you should not begin it to-day if you like. It is a deed peculiarly suited to a baronet. I don't know why,' he added hastily; 'it may be that it is the only thing that baronets are good for. I shouldn't wonder. The existence of baronets,' he added musingly, 'has always seemed to the thoughtful to lack justification. Perhaps this deed which you will begin to-day is the wise end to which baronets were designed.' 'Yes, I daresay,' said Philip; 'but what is the end?' 'I don't know,' Mr. Noah owned, 'but I'll tell you what the _deed_ is. You've got to journey to the land of the Dwellers by the Sea and, by any means that may commend itself to you, slay their fear.' Philip naturally asked what the Dwellers by the Sea were afraid of.