Trouble seemed to come all at once; they had no money and no place to store their humble furniture; but Violet always hoped for the best, and only smiled when they began to move the rough chairs and table her father had nailed together.
"There's one comfort," she said; "our things are not so fine that a little dew will hurt them. We may leave them here till we find a better place."
But it did make her heart ache to see the men tear away her vines, even from above old Reuben's seat, and then, with a few axe strokes, batter down the wall, till nothing was left of the dear old home but a little pile of boards.
"We had better go to this rich man and tell our story," said her mother, as they walked sadly out of the pasture for, as they thought, the last time.
"He was boarding," the landlord said, "at a hotel in the village where Reuben had carried his marketing, only three or four miles thence."
So, leaning on Violet's arm, old Mary crept along the dusty road, farther than she had walked for many a day, and was tired enough when they reached the hotel door.
Not so Violet, who was full of hope, and had in her head more plans than one for finding a new home.
They asked for the stranger, Dr. Story, were led to his parlor, and told their simple tale. He was interested at once, and very angry that they had been treated so badly on his account, and offered to give them money, while he hardly took his eyes from Violet's face.
"No," she said, smiling; "we did not come to beg, but thought, as we had lost our home through you, you might be willing to help us find another."
"And how shall I do that?" asked the doctor.