"Justice?"
"I dunno that one."
"Do you know what God is?"
Nance felt that she was doing badly. If her freedom depended on her passing this test, she knew the prison bars must be already closing on her. She no more knew what God is than you or I know, but the spectacled lady must be answered at any cost.
"God," she said laboriously, "God is what made us, and a cuss word."
Many more questions followed before she was sent back to her place between Uncle Jed and Mrs. Snawdor, and Dan was led away in turn to receive his test.
Meanwhile Uncle Jed was getting restless. Again and again he consulted his large nickel-plated watch.
"I ought to be getting to bed," he complained. "I won't get more 'n four hours' sleep as it is."
"Here comes the Clarke boy!" exclaimed Nance, and all eyes were turned in the direction of the door.
The group that presented itself at the entrance was in sharp contrast to its surroundings. Mac Clarke, arrayed in immaculate white, was flanked on one side by his distinguished-looking father and on the other by his father's distinguished-looking lawyer. The only evidence that the aristocratic youth had ever come into contact with the riffraff of Calvary Alley was the small patch of court-plaster above his right eye.