"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