nt of the Senior Class and when
the names of the candidates for the presidency had been posted on the
bulletin board by the nominating committee, a mill girl headed the list.

Such a thing had never been heard of in the school. Always the president
of the class had been the one who could entertain the class, who could
stand out prominently during class week, whose father would help to pay
the bills of the Commencement time.

But at the beginning of the year, the class had decided to learn to do
things according to parliamentary law and to be democratic, and this was
the result. Never for a moment had the girls and boys of the Hill section
dreamed that a committee would dare to choose a River-section president.

To be sure, the girl whom they had chosen had led the class both in marks
and in the debating club. Yes, she could make a splendid Commencement Day
speaker, but she was a River-section girl, and they just wouldn't have
it.

So they argued and pleaded and tried to persuade their friends to make her
fail the election. Why, there would be no fun at all during Commencement
week if she led the class. She had nothing at all to spend for fun.

Chief among the objectors had been Mary Waite. Her father owned the
largest mill and she had thought surely the place was to be hers. She had
even planned how she would entertain the class on the lawn of her home.
She was ready to do almost anything to upset the plans of the nominating
committee.

So the group of girls were still scolding when they reached the door of
the museum about four o'clock on Thursday afternoon. Mary had an errand in
the picture gallery and the rest were to wait for her in the corridor
below.

As she entered the gallery, she pulled from her book the assignment which
had been given to her:

"Study the pictures in Gallery Nine and bring the name and the artist of
the picture that speaks most plainly to you."

What an assignment! How could any picture speak to her when she was
feeling in such an unpleasant mood. She passed down one side and then
along the end of the gallery. She liked the children in this and the
flowers in that. But surely none would speak to her.

Down another side she went, stopping more often to look at the things that
interested her.

Suddenly she saw a picture of the Christ. It was at the end of the
gallery, and a wonderful light was thrown on it from a globe just above
the picture. The Christ was standing in a room and in