One day Frank was summoned to a handsome residence on Madison avenue.

"Sit down in the parlor," said the servant "and I will call Mrs. Graham."

As Frank looked around him, and noted the evidences of wealth in the elegant furniture and rich ornaments profusely scattered about, he thought, "How rich Mrs. Graham must be! I suppose she is very happy. I should be if I could buy everything I wanted."

It was a boy's thought, and betrayed our hero's inexperience. Even unlimited means are not sure to produce happiness, nor do handsome surroundings prove wealth.

Five minutes later an elderly lady entered the room. She was richly dressed, but her face wore a look of care and sorrow.

As she entered, Frank rose with instinctive politeness, and bowed.

"You are the telegraph boy," said the lady, inquiringly.

"Yes, ma'am."

Mrs. Graham looked at him earnestly, as if to read his character.

"I have sent for you," she said, at length, "to help me in a matter of some delicacy, and shall expect you not to speak of it, even to your employers."

"They never question me," said Frank, promptly. "You may rely upon my secrecy."

Frank's statement was correct. The business entrusted to telegraph messengers is understood to be of a confidential nature, and they are instructed to guard the secrets of those who make use of their services.

"I find it necessary to raise some money," continued the lady, apparently satisfied, "and am not at liberty, for special reasons, to call upon my husband for it. I have a diamond ring of considerable value, which I should like to have you carry, either to a jeweller or a pawnbroker, and secure what advance you can upon it."

"And I believed she had plenty of money," thought Frank, wondering.

"I will do the best I can for you, madam," said our hero.

Mrs. Graham drew from her pocket a small box, containing a diamond ring, which sparkled brilliantly in the sunshine.

"It is beautiful," said Frank, admiringly.

"Yes, it cost originally eight hundred dollars," said the lady.

"Eight hundred dollars!" echoed Frank, in wonder. He had heard of diamond rings, and knew they were valuable, but had no idea they were so valuable as that.

"How much do you expect to get on it?" he asked.

"Nothing near its value, of course, nor is that necessary. Two hundred dollars will be as much as I care to use, and at that rate I shall be able the sooner to redeem it. I believe I will tell you why I want the money."

"Not unless you think it best," said Frank.

"It is best, for I shall again require your services in disposing of the money."

The lady sat down on the sofa beside Frank, and told him the story which follows:—

"I have two children," she said, "a daughter and a son. The son has recently graduated from college, and is now travelling in Europe. My daughter is now twenty-six years of age. She was beautiful, and our social position was such that my husband, who is a proud man, confidently anticipated that she would make a brilliant match. But at the age of nineteen Ellen fell in love with a clerk in my husband's employ. He was a young man of good appearance and character, and nothing could be said against him except that he was poor. This, however, was more than enough in Mr. Graham's eyes. When Lawrence Brent asked for the hand of our daughter, my husband drove him from the house with insult, and immediately discharged him from his employ. Ellen was high-spirited, and resented this treatment of the man she loved. He soon obtained a place quite as good as the one he had lost, and one day Ellen left the house and married him. She wrote to us, excusing her action, and I would gladly have forgiven her; but her father was obdurate. He forbade my mentioning her name to him, and from that day to this he has never referred to her.

"I am now coming to the business in which you are to help me. For years my son-in-law was able to support his wife comfortably, and also the two children which in time came to them. But, a year since, he became sick, and his sickness lasted till he had spent all his savings. Now he and his poor family are living in wretched lodgings, and are in need of the common necessaries of life. It is for them I intend the money which I can secure upon this ring."

Frank could not listen without having his sympathies aroused.

"I shall be still more glad to help you," he said, "now that I know how the money is to be used."

"Thank you," said the lady. "You are a good boy, and I see that I can trust you implicitly."

She handed Frank the box, enjoining upon him to be careful not to lose it.

"It is so small that it might easily slip from your pocket," she said.

"I shall take the best care of it," said Frank. "Where would you advise me to go first?"

"I hardly know. If I wished to sell it I would carry it to Tiffany; but it was purchased there, and it might in that case come to my husband's ears. There is a pawnbroker, named Simpson, who, I hear, is one of the best of his class. You may go there first."

"How much shall I say you want on it?" asked Frank.

"Don't mention my name at all," said the lady, hastily.

"I suppose I shall have to give some name," said Frank, "in order that the ticket may be made out."

"What is your own name?"

"Frank Kavanagh."

"Have you a mother living?"

"No," said Frank, gravely.

"Then let the ticket be made out in your name."

"If you wish it."

"Shall I bring the money to you, Mrs. Graham?"

"No; my husband might be at home, and it would arouse his suspicions. At twelve o'clock I will meet you at Madison Park, at the corner opposite the Union League Club House. You can then report to me your success."

"Very well," said Frank.

He went at once to the pawnbroker mentioned by Mrs. Graham. But for his uniform he would have been questioned closely as to how he came by the ring; but telegraph boys are so often employed on similar errands that the pawnbroker showed no surprise. After a careful examination he agreed to advance two hundred dollars, and gave Frank the money and the ticket. When Frank gave his own name, he said, "That is your name, is it not?"

"Yes, sir."

"But the ring does not belong to you?"

"No; it belongs to a lady who does not wish her name known."

"It is all the same to us."

"That was easily done," thought Frank. "Now I must go and meet Mrs. Graham."

"Have you got the money?" asked Mrs. Graham, anxiously, as Frank made his appearance.

"Yes," replied Frank.

"How much?"

"The amount you asked for."

"That is well. Now I shall be able to relieve my poor daughter. I cannot bear to think of her and her poor children suffering for the lack of bread, while I am living in luxury. I wish Mr. Graham was not so unforgiving."

"Will you take the money now?" asked Frank.

"I wish you to take fifty dollars to my daughter."

"I will do so with pleasure. What is her address?"

Mrs. Graham drew out a card, on which she had pencilled her daughter's address. It proved to be a tenement-house on the east side of the city, not far from Fourteenth street.

"I wish I could go myself," said Mrs. Graham, sadly; "but I do not dare to do so at present. Give Ellen this money, with my best love; and say to her that a month hence I will again send her the same sum. Tell her to keep up good courage. Brighter days may be in store."

"I will be sure to remember," said Frank, in a tone of sympathy.

The errand was to his taste; for he was about to carry help and comfort to those who needed both.