Bethany followed with George Cragmore. There was a brilliant moonlight, and they walked slowly, enjoying to the utmost the rare beauty of the night. "Come in a moment, George," called Mr. Marion, as he wheeled Jack up the steps. "I want to finish spinning this yarn." They all went into the hall. Bethany opened the door into the library and struck a match. Cragmore took it from her and lighted the gas. But Mr. Marion still stood in the hall with his attentive audience of three. "I'll be through in a moment," he called. The sisters dropped down in a large double rocker. "You might as well sit down, too, Mr. Cragmore," said Bethany. "His minute may prove to be elastic." Cragmore looked around the homelike old room, and then down at the fair-haired woman at his side. "Not to-night, thank you," he responded; "but I should like to come some other time. Yes, I think I should like to come here very often, Miss Hallam." The admiration in his eyes, and the tone, made the remark so very personal that Bethany was slightly annoyed. "O, our latch-string is always out to the clergy," she said lightly, and then led the way back to the hall to join the others. CHAPTER XI. "YOM KIPPUR." THE morning after the first meeting of the Hebrew class at Rabbi Barthold's, Frank Marion came into the office. "Herschel," he said, "when do you have your Day of Atonement services? Is it this week or next? Rabbi Barthold invited us to attend, but I am not sure about the date. He is going to preach a series of sermons that are to set forth the views now held by the Reform school, and Cragmore and I are anxious to hear them." "It is the week after this," said David, consulting the calendar. "Then I can arrange to get in from my trip in time for the Friday night service." "What do you think of Rabbi Barthold?" asked David. "Isn't he a magnificent old fellow?" Marion stroked his mustache thoughtfully. "Well," he said after some deliberation, "I hardly know where to place him. He doesn't belong to this age. If I believed in the transmigration of souls, I should say that some old Levite, whose life-work had been to keep the Temple lamps perpetually burning, had strayed back to earth again.