The news that the miser was very wealthy and had left all his money, except a small legacy to his servant, to Mrs. Pell, spread rapidly and created a great sensation.
Everybody connected it with Roy’s act of rescue on the trestle, and so many spoke to him about it that he was almost afraid to show himself in public.
“What do you care?” said Jess, when he complained to her about it. “It certainly isn’t a thing you are ashamed of.”
“But I don’t know what to say,” he returned. “It sounds silly to tell them it wasn’t anything, and I can’t say, yes, I think it was a very brave act. So there I am.”
“You poor boy. What do you do, usually?”
“Try to get around it by telling them that I’m not the heir but mother. I suppose that’s kind of mean, too, for I know she hates to be spoken to about it as much as I do.”
The Pells were the observed of all observers at the funeral. Eva had declared at first that she thought they ought not to go.
“We’ll just make a show of ourselves,” she said. “It was very unfortunate all this got out before Mr. Tyler was buried.”
But Mrs. Pell announced that respect for the dead demanded their presence, so they went. Every one remarked on the pallor of Sydney. His mother had worried over it considerably.
“You must be the first to take advantage of our altered circumstances, my dear boy,” she had told him. “I want you to give up work for a while and go away for a good long rest.”