customs by which your pious Jew honors his dead. There
would be no Yahrzeit light burning for twenty-four hours.
She would not go to Temple for Kaddish prayer. But the
thing was too strong for her, too anciently inbred. Her
ancestors would have lighted a candle, or an oil lamp.
Fanny, coming home at six, found herself turning on the
shaded electric lamp in her hall. She went through to the
kitchen.

"Princess, when you come in to-morrow morning you'll find a
light in the hall. Don't turn it off until to-morrow
evening at six."

"All day long, Miss Fan! Mah sakes, wa' foh?"

"It's just a religious custom."

"Didn't know yo' had no relijin, Miss Fan. Leastways, Ah
nevah could figgah----"

"I haven't," said Fanny, shortly. "Dinner ready soon,
Princess? I'm starved."

She had entered a Jewish house of worship only once in this
year. It was the stately, white-columned edifice on Grand
Boulevard that housed the congregation presided over by the
famous Kirsch. She had heard of him, naturally. She was
there out of curiosity, like any other newcomer to Chicago.
The beauty of the auditorium enchanted her--a magnificently
proportioned room, and restful without being in the least