"He lost his place," said Mr. Pomeroy, reluctantly, "partly because of
the dullness of general trade."

"Then he can't maintain his sister. She will have to go to the
poorhouse. Will you ask her to get ready, and I'll take her right over
to the poorhouse."

There was no alternative. Mr. Pomeroy went into the house, and broke the
sad news to his wife and Grace.

"Never mind," she said, with attempted cheerfulness, though her lips
quivered, "I shan't have to stay there long. Frank will be sure to send
for me very shortly."

"It's too bad, Grace," said Sam, looking red about the eyes; "it's too
bad that you should have to go to the poorhouse."

"Come and see me, Sam," said Grace.

"Yes, I will, Grace. I'll come often, too. You shan't stay there long."

"Good-by," said Grace, faltering. "You have all been very kind to me."

"Good-by, my dear child," said Mrs. Pomeroy.

"Who knows but you can return to us when the new house is done?"

So poor Grace went out from her pleasant home to find the deacon,
grim-faced and stern, waiting for her.