The house was a bare looking place, furnished only with the merest
necessities. No pictures were on the walls, no books on the tables;
Roy wondered what the old man did to pass the time here by himself.
There was not even a sofa for him to lie upon. He asked about this
when he returned to the front room.

"Then you'd better come in and lie on the outside of your bed if you
won't get in it," he suggested.

To this the older man acceded and allowed Roy to assist him to the
adjoining apartment where he slept.

"No," he murmured, "I haven't wasted much on myself, you see. That
will leave still more for those who come after me. What would you do
with $500,000 if you had it, Roy Pell?"

The question came so suddenly and in such contrasted tones to the
mumble in which the miser had heretofore been speaking that for the
moment Roy was too startled to make reply.

"No, I'm not raving, Roy Pell," went on the old man. "There's a
possibility--" he checked himself quickly-- "what would you do with
all that money if you had it?"

"I'd give it to my mother," answered Roy.

"Good boy, of course. I didn't think of that. You're a minor, and
you're not selfish. You'd rather she would have it, eh, than that it
should be held by her in trust for you? But if you got it, you'd