“No, my boy,” was the answer. “Nothing now. You have obeyed his last request of you. It is not your fault that you are too late.”
The physician drove off, leaving the two boys standing in the road in front of the silent cottage, for the undertaker was carrying on his work noiselessly.
“Roy,” said Rex suddenly, placing a hand on each of his brother’s shoulders, and looking him squarely in the face, “what did Dr. Martin mean by what he said just now about your being the means of bringing a fortune into the family?”
“Don’t—don’t ask anything about it just here. Come, let’s hurry off toward home. I’ll tell you on the way.”
Roy slipped his arm through his brother’s and led him off down the hill.
“Now then,” said Rex impatiently when they had reached the Marley turnpike again, “you must tell me. Did Mr. Tyler leave you any money for what you did for him yesterday?”
“No,” replied Roy, in a kind of burst, “but he left his whole fortune to mother.”
Rex did not stop and throw up his hands as Roy had half expected he would do. He came closer to his brother and suddenly passed one arm about his neck as they walked on together and drew him close to him.
“Oh, Roy,” he said, “we owe all this to you.”
Then he walked off to the side of the road and dropped down on the grass. Roy came over to take his place beside him.