It's to hang in his 'den.' His mother has just been refitting his den, and we thought it would be quite appropriate for us to get him a fine picture for the wall."

They had already dispensed with the formalities. Mr. Thorpe knew the Stanley family slightly, and was therefore somewhat fitted to help in the selection of a picture that would suit the taste of one of its members. He had led them to the end of the large, well-lighted room, placed before them an easel, and motioned them to sit down.

The seven boys, however, were not accustomed to such things, and they remained standing, listening and looking with all their ears and eyes. Somehow, as Mrs. Ketchum stated matters, they did not feel quite as much to belong to this committee as before. What, for instance, could Mrs. Ketchum mean by Mr. Stanley's "den"? They had dim visions of Daniel and the lions, and the man who fell among thieves, but they had not time to reflect over this, for Mr. Thorpe was bringing forward pictures.

"As it's a Sunday school superintendent, perhaps something religious would be appropriate. You might look at these first, anyway," and he put before them a large etching whose wonder and beauty held them silent as they gazed. It was a new picture of the Lord's Supper by a great artist, and the influence of the picture was so great that for a few moments they looked and forgot their own affairs. The faces were so marvelously portrayed that they could but know each disciple, and felt that the hand which had drawn the Master's face must have been inspired.

"It is more expensive than you wanted to buy, but still it is a fine thing and worth the money. Perhaps, as it is for a church, I might make a reduction, that is, somewhat, if you like it better than anything else."

Mrs. Ketchum lowered her lorgnette with a dissatisfied expression, though her face and voice were duly appreciative. She really knew a fine thing when she saw it.

"It is wonderful, and you are very kind, Mr. Thorpe; but do you not think that perhaps it is a little, just a little, well—gloomy —that is, solemn—well—for a den, you know?" and she laughed uneasily.

Mr. Thorpe was accustomed to being all things to all men. With an easy manner he laughed understandingly.

"Yes? Well, I thought so myself, but then I didn't know how you would feel about it. It would seem hardly appropriate, now you think of it, for a room where men go to smoke and talk. Well, just all of you step around to this side of the room, please, and I'll show you another style of picture."

They followed obediently, Mrs. Ketchum murmuring something more about the inappropriateness of the picture for a den, and the seven boys making the best of their way among the easels and over Mrs. Ketchum's train. All but Margaret Manning. She lingered as if transfixed before the picture. Perhaps she had not even heard what Mrs. Ketchum had said. Two of the boys hoped so in whispers to one another.

"Say, Joe," he whispered in a low grumble, "I forgot all about Mr. Stanley's smoking. She——" with a nod toward the silent, preoccupied woman still standing in front of the picture, "she won't like that. Maybe he don't do it anymore.