er for the bereaved mother
to get away from her present rooms where she was constantly reminded of
the dead, leased a neat little flat in Harlem, to which she was moved,
together with her furniture. Here they designed making a home for
themselves, inaugurating Mrs. Flannery as housekeeper. It seemed to them
that they could in no other way carry out so fully the wishes of their
dead friend. The housework would occupy her mind and keep her busy, and
by their living thus together she would have with her the two friends in
whose care the deceased had placed her. Moreover each desired a better
home than their cheerless attic room had been to them, and they felt
that they could now afford to spend more upon themselves.

Thus the flat was taken and with Mrs. Flannery's furniture, a few new
things from the store and little fancy articles made and contributed by
Ray and her mother, the boys found themselves very happily situated in
their new home. Mrs. Flannery, too, while at her new duties, recovered
more quickly than would seem possible from the terrible shock she had
sustained. In young Randolph and Bob Hunter she found all she could have
desired in sons of her own--found, as her poor dying boy had said, that
they would look out for her, and could do more for her than he. And she
proved a good mother to them, studying their every want with gratitude
and affection.

To Bob especially the comforts of his present life gave great happiness,
and as the weeks rolled by he became more and more attached to his new
home, and spent all the spare time possible in study, being taught by
Herbert.

CHAPTER XXXI.

THE BOY BROKER.

While young Randolph was away from his business during the few days of
the death and burial of his friend, the proprietor of a house from whom
Herbert bought a great many stamps complained to his bookkeeper about
the large supply on hand.

"But we cannot get rid of them if no one calls for them," replied the
latter.

"Hasn't Littlewood been in for any?"

"No, he has not been here for ten days."

"Ten days," repeated the merchant thoughtfully. "What has become of the
boy broker? I have not seen him here lately."

"The boy broker," said the bookkeeper, taking Herbert's card from a
drawer to find his address. "He is at 111 Nassau Street. Shall I send
for him?"

"Yes, do so," said the proprietor as he walked away.

"The boy broker," repeated the bookkeeper to himself, catching at his
employer'