Then the organ pealed forth, and voices caught up the murmuring words and
lifted them and her with them to the great arched ceiling. As long as the
music lasted, she sat spell-bound, but when the bishop began to read
again, this time from a book resting on the out-stretched wings of a big
brass bird, her attention wandered to the great stained glass window
above the altar. The reverse side of it was as familiar to her as the
sign over Slap Jack's saloon. From the alley it presented opaque blocks
of glass above the legend that had been one of the mysteries of her
childhood. Now as she looked, the queer figures became shining angels
with lilies in their hands, and she made the amazing discovery that "Evol
si dog," seen from the inside, spelled "God is Love."

She sat quite still, pondering the matter. The bishop and the music
and even Mac were for the time completely forgotten. Was the world
full of things like that, puzzling and confused from the outside, and
simple and easy from within? Within what? Her mind groped uncertainly
along a strange path. So God was love? Why hadn't the spectacled lady
told her so that time in the juvenile court instead of writing down
her foolish answer? But love had to do with sweethearts and dime
novels and plays on the stage. How could God be that? Maybe it meant
the kind of love Mr. Demry had for his little daughter, or the love
that Dan had for his mother, or the love she had for the Snawdor baby
that died. Maybe the love that was good was God, and the love that was
bad was the devil, maybe--

Her struggle with these wholly new and perplexing problems was
interrupted by the arrival of a belated worshiper, who glided into the
seat beside her and languidly knelt in prayer. Nance's attention
promptly leaped from moral philosophy to clothes. Her quick eyes made