Judge Crooker's voice had been calm, his manner dignified. But the last sentences had been spoken with a quiet sternness and with his long, bony forefinger pointing straight at Mr. Sneed. The other members of the committee clapped their hands in hearty approval. Mr. Sneed smiled and brushed his trousers. "I guess you're right," he said. "We're all off our balance a little, but what is to be done now?" "We must quit our plumbing and carpentering and lawyering and banking and some of us must quit merchandising and sitting in the chimney corner and grab our saws and axes and go out into the woods and make some fuel and get it hauled into town," said Judge Crooker. "I'll be one of a party to go to-morrow with my axe. I haven't forgotten how to chop." The committee thought this a good suggestion. They all rose and started on a search for volunteers, except Mr. Sneed. He tarried saying to the Judge that he wished to consult him on a private matter. It was, indeed, just then, a matter which could not have been more public although, so far, the news of it had traveled in whispers. The Judge had learned the facts since his return. "I hope your plumbing hasn't gone wrong," he remarked with a smile. "No, it's worse than that," said Mr. Sneed ruefully. They bade the little Shepherd good night and went down-stairs where the widow was still at work with her washing, although it was nine o'clock. "Faithful woman!" the Judge exclaimed as they went out on the street. "What would the world do without people like that? No extra charge for overtime either." Then, as they walked along, he cunningly paved the way for what he knew was coming. "Did you notice the face of that boy?" he asked. "Yes, it's a wonderful face," said Israel Sneed. "It's a God's blessing to see a face like that," the Judge went on. "Only the pure in heart can have it. The old spirit of youth looks out of his eyes--the spirit of my own youth. When I was fourteen, I think that my heart was as pure as his. So were the hearts of most of the boys I knew." "It isn't so now," said Mr. Sneed. "I fear it isn't," the Judge answered. "There's a new look in the faces of the young. Every variety of evil is spread before them on the stage of our little theater. They see it while their characters are in the making, while their minds are like white wax. Everything that touches them leaves a mark or a smirch. It addresses them in the one language they all understand, and for which no dictionary is needed--pictures. The flower of youth fades fast enough, God knows, without the withering knowledge of evil. They say it's good for the boys and girls to know all about life. We shall see!"