be objectionable. It is
dealing with him as a mere man, you know. It is simply an Oriental dress
of a male figure that we want to represent, and this figure of Christ as
he sat at the well is so exceedingly minute and so carefully drawn that
it works up finely."

"Christ at the well of Samaria!" read Flossy, now bending over the book,
and her eyes and cheeks told the story of her aversion to the idea. "Who
_would_ be willing to personate the Saviour?"

Mr. Holden was prompt with his answer:

"I have had not the slightest difficulty in that matter. My friend,
Col. Baker here, expressed himself as entirely willing to undertake it.
Why, my dear young ladies, you see it is nothing but the masculine form
of dress that we want to bring out. There is really nothing more
irreverent in it than there is in your looking at this picture here
to-night."

"Then we will not look longer at the picture," Eurie said, drawing back
suddenly, the color on her face deepening into crimson. "It is useless
for you to undertake an argument with me. I will be very plain with you,
and inform you that, aside from the irreverent nature of the tableau, I
consider myself insulted in being chosen to make a public representation
of that character. I am certainly absolved from my promise, Mr. Holden;
and I beg you to withdraw my name from your list at once."

Mr. Holden turned the leaf on the offending picture. He was amazed and
grieved; he had looked at the picture purely in an artistic light; he
supposed all people looked thus at tableau pictures; it was certainly a
compliment that he meant to pay, and not the shadow of a discourtesy;
but since they looked at it in that singular manner, of course it
should be withdrawn from the lists; nothing further should be said about
it. Let him show them, just allow him to show them, one plate which was
the very finest in scenic effect of anything that he had ever gotten up.
The name of it was "The Ancient Feast."

Eurie turned hotly away, but Flossy and Ruth looked. It was a
representation of Belshazzar at his impious feast, at the time when he
was arrested by the handwriting on the wall. Ruth Erskine curled her
handsome lip into something like a sneer.

"Does Col. Baker kindly propose to aid you in representing the hand of
God?" she said, in her haughtiest tones. "He is so willing to lend
himself to the other piece of sacrilege, that one can hardly expect him
to shrink even from this."

Mr. Holden pro