There were gold-of-Ophir roses, and, peach blossoms in April, but there was no more jasmine; Dad had it all dug up.

To this day he turns pale at the sight of it--poor Dad! When I was twelve years old, Dad sold out his hardware business, intending to put his money in an orange grove at Riverside, but the nicest livery-stable in San Bernardino happened to be for sale just then, so he bought that instead, for he was always crazy about horses.
To see me trotting about in Paquin gowns and Doucet models, you'd never think I owed them to three owlish little burros, would you?
But it's a fact.

When Dad took over the livery-stable, he found he was the proud possessor of three donkeys, as well as some twenty-odd horses, and a dozen or so buggies, buckboards and surries.

The burros ate their solemn heads off all winter, but in May it had been the custom to send them to Strawberry Valley in charge of a Mexican who hired them out to the boarders at the summer hotel there.
Luckily for us, when Fortune came stalking down the main street of San Bernardino to knock at the door of the Golden Eagle Stables, both dad and the burros were at home.

If either had been out, we might be poor this very minute.
It is generally understood that when Fortune goes a-visiting, she goes disguised, so it's small wonder Dad didn't recognize her at first.