ission from President Walker to use this flag, which was
brought out only on state occasions, and it devolved on Molly, as
chairman, to make the formal request for her class. That this intrepid
class of sophomores was the first ever to ask to use the banner had not
occurred to her when she knocked at the door of the President's office.

Miss Walker would see her in ten minutes, she was told by Miss Maxwell,
the President's secretary, and she sat down in the long drawing room to
await her summons. It was a pleasant place in which to linger, Molly
thought, as she leaned back in a beautiful old arm chair of the
sixteenth century, which had come from a Florentine palace. Most of the
furniture and ornaments in the room had been brought over from Italy by
Miss Walker at various times. There were mirrors and high-backed carved
chairs from Venice. Over the mantel was a beautiful frieze of singing
children, and at one side was a photograph, larger even than Mary
Stewart's, of the "Primavera"; on the other side of the mantel was a
lovely round Madonna which Molly thought also might be a Botticelli.

As her eyes wandered from one object to another in the charming room,
her tense nerves began to relax. At last her gaze rested on the
photograph of a pretty, dark-haired girl in an old-fashioned black
dress. There was something very appealing about the sweet face looking
out from the carved gilt frame, a certain peaceful calmness in her
expression. And peace had not been infused into Molly's daily life
lately. What a rush things had been in; every moment of the day
occupied. There were times when it was so overwhelming, this college
life, that she felt she could not breast the great wave of duties and
pleasures that surged about her. And now, at last, in the subdued soft
light of President Walker's drawing room she found herself alone and in
delightful, perfect stillness. How polished the floors were! They were
like dim mirrors in which the soft colors of old hangings were
reflected. Two Venetian glass vases on the mantel gave out an opalescent
gleam in the twilight.

"Some day I shall have a room like this," Molly thought, closing her
eyes. "I shall wear peacock blue and old rose dresses like the
Florentine ladies and do my hair in a gold net----"

Her heavy eyelids fluttered and drooped, her hands slipped from the arms
of her chair into her lap and her breathing came regularly and even like
a child's. She was sound asleep, and wh