choir burst into a paeon. Little Doctor Thalmann raised his
arms. The congregation swept to its feet with a mighty
surge. Fanny rose with them, her face very white in its
frame of black curls, her eyes luminous. She raised her
face for the words of the ancient benediction that rolled,
in its simplicity and grandeur, from the lips of the rabbi:

"May the blessing of the Lord our God rest upon you all.
God bless thee and keep thee. May God cause His countenance
to shine upon thee and be gracious unto thee. May God lift
up His countenance unto thee, and grant thee peace."

The Day of Atonement had come to an end. It was a very
quiet, subdued and spent little flock that dispersed to
their homes. Fanny walked out with scarcely a thought of
Bella. She felt, vaguely, that she and this school friend
were formed of different stuff. She knew that the bond
between them had been the grubby, physical one of childhood,
and that they never would come together in the finer
relation of the spirit, though she could not have put this
new knowledge into words.

Molly Brandeis put a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

"Tired, Fanchen?"

"A little."

"Bet you're hungry!" from Theodore.