the word, merited that title. "It cannot simply mean a home where Christ
is honored," she said to herself. "I surely have that. It rather means a
home where everything pertaining to it serves His cause. The very
furniture and the light and the brightness are made to do duty for Him,
else they have no place there; and I, labelled Christian, have no right
to them. Can they bear the test, I wonder? What is there that I can do
with all the beauties of my parlors? There are things that I have not
done. I can see some to do; but how can my Christian home serve these
boys? When I get them into it, of course it will work for me; but how to
get them in! Who are they? I wonder what spring I can touch to give me
even this meagre bit of information?"

As if in answer to her mental query, she came just then full upon
Policeman Duffer. She recognized him instantly: a man who, though by
no means small, was so far from having the majestic presence of most
policemen that, in the estimation of the boys, he merited the name
"Little Duffer." Mrs. Roberts carried to her new work one talent not
always to be found among even efficient workers,--the ability to
remember both names and faces. Especially did a name seem, without any
effort on her part, to fasten itself upon her memory; and not only that,
but it brought with it a train of memories enabling her to locate when
and where, and under what circumstances, she heard the name; and,
therefore, generally whom the name fitted. Recognizing the features of
the policeman whom she had seen at the door of the South End Mission,
she connected him at once with the term "Little Duffer," heard in her
class, and addressed him:--

"Mr. Duffer, I believe."

It is safe to say that Policeman Duffer, entirely accustomed as he was