The Pells breakfasted early so that Sydney might catch the 7:30 express for the city. On the morning following the events narrated in the preceding chapter the entire family were gathered at the table with the exception of Rex, who was invariably late, and Sydney himself.

"It's very strange," remarked Mrs. Pell "He is always on time. He can barely catch his train now. I wish you, Roy, would run up to his room and see what is the matter. He may be ill."

Roy soon ascended the two flights of stairs to the apartment with the dormer window that had always been Syd's. The door was open and the room was empty. The bed had been slept in, but the suit Syd had worn the day before was not about. He had evidently dressed and gone.

"I wonder if he can be up at Mr. Tyler's?" thought Roy.

He returned to the dining room with his report.

"It is very odd," remarked Mrs. Pell. "It is not like Sydney to go off in that way, but he will explain when he comes home to-night. He may have been obliged to go to town at seven on business for Mr. Tyler."

"That's so; what did the old gentleman want with Syd," asked Jessie, turning to Roy. "You were so sleepy when you came home last night that you didn't half satisfy our curiosity."

"He wanted him to make his will," answered Roy.

"And did he?" went on Jess.

"Yes. I say, mother, hadn't I better go and stir up Rex? I'm afraid he's gone off to sleep again."

"There, he's coming now. I hear his step on the stairs, so you just sit still and answer my questions. I'm not half through yet," and Jess checked off on her fingers the two queries to which she had already had responses. "Now then, is he as rich as we all thought him?"

"Richer. Good afternoon to you, Rex. Better late than never. I'm going to keep you company, by taking a second cup of coffee. Mother, may I, please?"

"Royal Pell, what is the matter with you?" exclaimed Jess. "You haven't been like the same fellow since you climbed up to that trestle yesterday afternoon. You seem to be trying to keep something back. Don't you notice it, mother?"

"I have," put in Rex, before Mrs. Pell could speak. "I couldn't get a word out of him before he went to sleep last night. One would think he'd had a trouble like mine to bear," and Rex sighed with the air of a martyr.

Roy glanced over at him quickly. What would this luxury loving brother of his say if he only knew! But Roy did not dare tell yet. Mr. Tyler might live for years, and have ample opportunity to change his mind about his will. Yes, it was better to keep the matter to himself as long as he could.

"What's queer about me?" he said now.

"Why, you're giving such short answers to our questions about the old miser," returned Jess promptly. "As a rule you'd tell us all we wanted to know without our having to draw it out as if we were pulling teeth."

"Well, what is it you want to know?"

"Oh, all about your experience over at Mr. Tyler's. The people up in the town will hear about your being there and will expect us to know all the details. It is quite an event for a queer old character like the Burdock miser to make a will."

"But people when they make their wills don't usually tell everybody in the house what they put into them. It's a sort of confidential matter, don't you understand?"

"I'll wager you know all about it, Roy," broke in Rex suddenly, dropping the biscuit he was buttering and staring at his brother fixedly for a moment "I shouldn't be surprised if the old fellow had made you his heir for what you did for him."

"Well, if he did, "answered Roy with a smile, "it wouldn't enable you to take that trip to Canada, as he isn't dead yet and may live to be ninety."

"He's just the kind that do hang on," remarked Jess. "People that nobody seems to care about generally do."

"That reminds me, mother," added Rex, "if I don't go on this trip there'll be a lot of money saved. Can't I have some of it spent for a new tennis suit? I need one badly."

Mrs. Pell smiled, a little sadly though.

"My dear boy," she rejoined, "there is your patent method of manufacturing money again. You conceive a desire for something very expensive, then when you give that up and select something much cheaper, you imagine that you have saved more than enough to pay for it."

"It's a thundering grind to be decently poor any way." Rex pushed back his chair suddenly, his brow clouded with a frown as it had been the afternoon before down on the log.

"'Decently poor!' What do you mean by that, Rex?" asked Eva.

"Oh, to have the taste and wish for nice things and the privilege of going with nice people who own them, and yet not be able to have them yourself. I sometimes wish I was like black Pete. He doesn't know any better than to be contented if he makes a dollar or two a week."

"Oh, Reggie, Reggie!" murmured Mrs. Pell sadly.

This one of her boys caused her more anxiety than all the other children combined. He was so proud, so aspiring, and yet he had not half the ability of Roy, who was rather overshadowed by the other's dashing, winning manner. For Rex could be charming when he so minded.

He went out on the side piazza now and began to shy strawberries at two of the puppies. The berries had just been picked and left by the cook on the window sill for the girls to hull.

"Rex," exclaimed Roy severely, coming out upon him suddenly. "Aren't you ashamed to use those berries in that way?"

Roy hated waste above all things.

Rex checked the toss he was about to make, and transferred the berry to his mouth instead.

"Has your majesty any objections to that disposition of the fruit?" he asked with an assumption of the courtliness that became him so well.

"Well, it's a legitimate disposition at any rate," returned Roy. Then he went out to the barn to feed the chickens and look after the cow, for the Pells kept no hired man. The boys attended to the kitchen garden-- at least Roy did most of it, and there had been no horses kept by the family since shortly after Mr. Pell's death.

This was another of Rex's trials.

"Think of living in the country without a horse!" he would exclaim. "And then to have the stable on the place into the bargain! It's enough to make the horse we haven't got laugh."

To be sure he had plenty of rides. The Bowmans who came down to Marley for the summer, were very fond of him, and nearly every day during the summer Scott took him out in his cart.

But Rex sighed to return this hospitality. All of his friends were glad to come down to the Pellery, as Rex called it, for Mrs. Pell was a great favorite and the young people were lively and bright. Rex fretted, however, because he had no "attractions" to offer them.

He was feeling particularly gloomy this morning. Having exhausted himself in regretting the good time he would lose in not being able to go with the Bowmans, he had taken to lamenting his condition here in Marley during vacation with Scott away. He was not so fond of reading as was Roy, and without plenty of congenial society, he was apt to find that time hung heavy on his hands.

Scott had gone to Philadelphia this morning to make some purchases for his journey. He would not he back till afternoon. Rex had not yet planned what to do with himself in the meantime.

"Where are you going?" he called out presently, when he saw Roy walking down toward the gate.

"Over to Mr. Tyler's to see how he is. Want to come?"

"I believe I do," answered Rex slowly. "Hold on a minute till I get my cap."

Roy was rather surprised that his brother should wish to go. He wondered just how Mr. Tyler would like his bringing him. Then he remembered what the miser had said about Rex reminding him somewhat of Maurice Darley and thought perhaps he might be glad to see him on this account.

It was cooler than it had been the previous day. The country about Marley and Burdock was beautiful, extremely rolling and rich in vegetation, so the walk was a pleasant one.

"Say, did Mr. Tyler really have Syd make his will last night?" asked Rex as they were crossing the covered bridge over the creek.

"Yes," answered Roy.

"Did he have much to leave?" went on Rex, stooping down as they emerged on the road again, to pluck a tall blade of grass which he began to munch between his white teeth.

"About half a million." Roy thought he might as well tell this. He knew that if he tried to evade the question his brother would be apt to think he was keeping something back.

"What?" Rex stopped stock still in the road to utter the exclamation. "That old bag of bones worth half a million dollars! Nonsense."

"I think it's more likely he should be worth that amount," returned Roy, "than the Bowmans, for instance, who seem to spend their income right up to the handle. You know everybody has always thought Mr. Tyler had money."

"I know they have, but such a sum as that!"

Rex walked on again, knitting his brows in thought. There was silence between the boys while they ascended the hill on the opposite side of the creek. Then as they reached the top, Rex was about to ask another question when Roy clutched his arm suddenly.

"Look there," he cried. "Isn't that undertaker Green's wagon in front of the house? Mr. Tyler must be dead!"