There had been a great discussion in the High School all the week, and as
Friday drew nearer the excitement grew more and more intense. For Barton
High School had many girls from the Hill section of the town where the
mill owners lived, and also many girls from the River section where the
mill workers lived.
There was to be an election for the president 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 his face was such a
tender, thoughtful look.
Mary sat down in the seat nearest to her. She did not want to move nearer
lest she lose the rare expression of the face of the Christ. It had only
been a few weeks since she had been standing before the altar of the
church, making herself a gift to the Christ. So as she sat and watched
the picture, she thought to herself:
"What a wonderful man he was! I should have loved to have had him look in
my face as he is looking into theirs. I wish I might have really seen
him."
After a time she moved nearer. Then she could see the faces of the other
persons in the picture. From where she had been sitting, only the face of
the Christ had seemed to stand out, though one knew the others were there.
They were sitting about the table in a home.
What a rude table it was! How roughly they were dressed! Why, they were
only poor people, yet the Christ was standing in their midst, giving them
to eat.
She studied his face. How beautiful it was! How much she loved him! How
eager she was to give him her very best! What could she do to show her
love? And as she looked she heard a voice saying to her: "The poor ye have
always with you, but me ye have not always."
Then somehow the faces of the men in the picture seemed like those of the
men who worked in her father's mill and in the face of the woman she saw a
likeness to Elizabeth Meeker. But the face of the Christ was still full of
love and tenderness.
The head of the girl drooped as she sat long before the picture. What had
she against Elizabeth Meeker? Nothing except the fact that she was poor.
She was a girl that Jesus would have loved, for she was always dependable.
Yet Mary was trying to take away the greatest pleasure that might ever
come to that poor girl.
She had no pretty home, she had little time for play; she hadn't even a
mother. Yet Mary knew she had been very, very unkind to her.
And now the face of the Christ seemed searching her very soul: "The poor
ye have always with you, but me ye have not always. Inasmuch as ye have
done it unto one of the least of these, ye have done it unto me."
There was a sound of a bell and Mary knew she must leave the room. One
last look she gave to the Christ of the picture. Then she smiled and
nodded her head.
When she came to join the girls below, she said quietly:
"Girls, let's give the school a surprise to-morrow. Let's go and vote for
Elizabeth Meeker, since so many of the class want her for president, and
then prove to the rest that we can still have a good time during
Commencement week. Father will let us use the grounds when we like and we
can all have a part in the planning of the fun. I should just like to see
if she really can make a class president as well as we girls from the
Hill."
And though the girls couldn't understand why she had changed, yet they
were glad to follow her lead.
That night Mary Waite sat before her desk in her pretty room on the Hill
and looked again at the assignment which had been given to her--
"Study the pictures in Gallery Nine and bring to me the name of the
picture and the artist who painted the one that speaks most plainly to
you."
And in no uncertain letters she wrote:
Christ in the Home of the Lowly.
By L'Hermitte
Mary Waite.