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!”