was about a mile and a half. For the first
half mile Deacon Pinkerton kept silence. Then he began to speak, in a
tone of cold condescension, as if it were a favor for such a superior
being to address an insignificant child, about to become a pauper.

"Little girl, have you heard from your brother lately?"

"Not very lately, sir."

"What is he doing?"

"He is in a store."

"I apprehend you are mistaken. He has lost his place. He has been turned
away," said the deacon, with satisfaction.

"Frank turned away! Oh, sir, you must be mistaken."

"Mr. Pomeroy told me. He found out yesterday when he went to the city."

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."

"Grace, humph! Why didn't she have a decent name?"

"You can call her anything you like," said the deacon.

"Little girl, you must behave well," said Deacon Pinkerton, by way of
parting admonition. "The town expects it. I expect it. You must never
cease to be grateful for the good home which it provides you free of
expense."

Grace did not reply. Looking in the face of her future task-mistress was
scarcely calculated to awaken a very deep feeling of gratitude.

"Now," said Mrs. Chase, addressing her new boarder, "just take off your
things, Betsy, and make yourself useful."

"My name isn't Betsy, ma'am."

"It isn't, isn't it?"

"No; it is G