Poor Grace! she could not longer doubt now, and her brother’s misfortune saddened her even more than her own.
“Probably you will soon see your brother.”
“Oh, do you think so, sir?” asked Grace, joyfully.
“Yes,” answered the deacon, grimly. “He will find himself in danger of starvation in the city, and he’ll creep back, only too glad to obtain a nice, comfortable home in the poorhouse.”
But Grace knew her brother better than that. She knew his courage, his self-reliance and his independent spirit, and she was sure the deacon was mistaken.
The home for which Grace was expected to be so grateful was now in sight. It was a dark, neglected looking house, situated in the midst of barren fields, and had a lonely and desolate aspect. It was superintended by Mr. and Mrs. Chase, distant relations of Deacon Pinkerton.
Mr. Chase was an inoffensive man, but Mrs. Chase had a violent temper. She was at work in the kitchen when Deacon Pinkerton drove up. Hearing the sound of wheels, she came to the door.
“Mrs. Chase,” said the deacon, “I’ve brought you a little girl, to be placed under your care.”
“What’s her name?” inquired the lady.
“Grace Fowler.”