"I am afraid I shall never get over it, Roy Pell." The miser looked at
him in a steady way that would have frightened some boys. "And I don't
want to die yet, not till I have made my will. I must have a lawyer.
Where is Sydney Pell, that brother of yours."

"He isn't my brother. He's a boy that father adopted when he was very
young, but he's better than a good many brothers. And he's a good
lawyer, too. Would you like to see him. He'll be back on the
five-thirty train."

"Yes, I should like to see him if it won't be too late. What time is
it now? You haven't got a watch, have you? Look at mine and tell me."

"Quarter past five, and now you ought to be taken home right away, and
have a doctor."

"You think I am very bad then?" Again the frightened look came into
the old man's face.

"No, of course not. Lots of people have to call the doctor when
they're not going to die."

"Don't speak of dying. I'm afraid to die. See, I don't mind telling
you so. And I ought to be. I haven't done very much good in the world.
There isn't anybody I can think of will be sorry to have me go. That
isn't the way to live, Roy Pell. You ought to be happy, so happy,
because you are young, and have your life before you to make it the
way it should be made."

"You have life before you, too, Mr. Tyler. You are not so very old.