Two Boys and a Fortune Part 12

"Yes, as a matter of study. You see, I write about them sometimes."

"Why, are you an author?"

Roy turned full around on the log as he put the question, his face all aglow with animation.

"I suppose that's what I must call myself even if I'm not a particularly famous one."

"Please tell me the names of some of your books. Perhaps I've read them."

The young man smiled at his companion's eagerness and mentioned a story which had been Roy's Christmas present two years before.

"Did you write that?" he exclaimed. "Why, then you are Mr. Charles Keeler!"

"Yes, I am Mr. Keeler. I suppose you are disappointed in me. Most people are when they see the people who write books they have read."

"That was a splendid story," Roy drew in a long breath before he made this reply. He was still looking at Mr. Keeler as if he could not yet quite comprehend the thing. "I'm awfully glad to meet you and I'd like to shake hands."

"With the greatest of pleasure. I'm very glad you liked my book; I know you wouldn't say so if you didn't. That's where boys are superior to grown people. They are almost always sincere in the expression of their opinions."

"Do you know I've never seen an author before?" went on Roy, who had wound up his line and had given himself over to a full enjoyment of this unexpected opportunity. "I don't see how you do it. I hate to write compositions at school. Nearly every boy I know does. Did you?"

"Yes, when I had to write on subjects that were a.s.signed by the teacher I used to count the lines then just the same as the rest of the fellows. But when they let me write a story I didn't mind."

"I don't see how you can. I should think you'd never know what to say next."

Mr. Keeler smiled, showing his white teeth which contrasted so strongly with the deep tan on his complexion.

"Oh, that all comes when you have your scheme arranged," he said. "But of course you have to possess a natural taste for the work. You can't suddenly decide that you would like to be an author and then study for it as you might learn to be a carpenter or a mason."

"Oh, it's like poets, then, who are 'born, not made,'" returned Roy.

"Precisely, and that being the case it comes natural to write, although there is a great deal of hard work about it."

"You said you studied boys. How do you mean?"

"Well, take yourself for example. When I saw you sitting here fis.h.i.+ng I wanted your picture so I could look at it some day and perhaps make up a story about you."

"A story about me!" exclaimed Roy. Then he added in a sober tone, "I don't believe you could make up a more wonderful story than something that has really happened to me."

"Is that so? I remember now you said you were very much disturbed over something that you thought would make you look disagreeable."

"Yes, I came down here because I was at odds with myself and everybody else, I wonder what you'd do with a hero who was just in my position.

I've half a mind to tell you all about it. You don't know who I am, so it won't matter. Do you live in Philadelphia?"

"No, in New York just at present."

"Good, then I believe I'll tell you, but you must promise you won't use it in a book unless I tell you you can."

"Here's my hand on it," and once more hands were clasped over the tree trunk.

"And you must promise, too, to believe everything I tell you. Some of it will seem pretty steep."

"Oh, well, you know, that fact is stranger than fiction, so don't worry about that."

"I won't tell you everything," began Roy, with a quick glance up at the trestle, "but first I'll have to go back a little and say that almost as far back as I can remember we've lived in that house you can see down yonder with the peaked roof. We had only about enough money to keep us comfortable, for father died when I was a little fellow, and there were five of us children. But we had good times and I was looking forward to the future when I would be a man and Rex and I-- that's my twin brother-- could give mother some of the luxuries with what we should earn, for I expected that by that time Sydney would be married and have a home of his own. You're not bored listening to all this, are you? There's a more exciting part coming?"

"I never was so absorbed in a story in my life, my dear fellow. Go on, please."

"Well, over yonder, not far from the end of the trestle, lived an old man-- but never mind the name. At any rate he was sort of a miser, or rather he had lots of money which he never spent and when he died he left it all to my mother."

"You've left something out I think," interrupted Mr. Keeler, and there was a smile about the corners of his mouth that caused Roy to flush deeply.

CHAPTER XI

MR. CHARLES KEELER

"Well, why don't you go on?" asked Mr. Keeler, as Roy paused.

"You've heard something about the affair. I can see you have by the way you look. Please tell me what it was."

"Only a very little," was the reply. "As I was crossing the trestle in the train a while ago I heard a lady behind me telling a gentleman who was with her that this was the place where Roy Pell rescued the old miser. So now you see I know who you are, but I hope that won't make any difference about your telling the story. You left off in the most interesting place. It would be worse than the serials in the weekly papers, for I couldn't look forward to getting the continuation next Sat.u.r.day."

Roy smiled and then said "All right, you've promised not to use it unless I give you leave, you know. But I don't want you to think of me as a regular hero because I lugged that old man off the bridge. There would have been plenty of time for me to have run down to Burdock and stopped the train and got help there, but I really didn't think of it."

"Oh, no, that isn't the part I'm interested in at all. What I want to know is the reason you seemed so glum over having come into a fortune.

Was it much, may I inquire?"

"About half a million, but I haven't been one mite happier since we've had it. In the first place my oldest brother has been sick ever since.

We don't know what's the matter with him and he won't give up his law business and go away for rest as mother wants him to. He says he has got too much to do looking after the investing of her money. Then there's Rex, he wants so many things that he can't settle on any one.

He got a bicycle almost the first thing, and now he's tired of it and wants a horse, and Jess says there's no good of getting that because we ought to go to Europe and take Syd with us."

"And Eva, she wants to go to Va.s.sar, and mother doesn't want to give her up, and the worst of it all is we've sold the place and we are going to move into the city next month, and I hate to leave Marley, although the rest all want to go. So we're all pulling different ways, and n.o.body a bit happy, for if he's got what he wanted he has to remember that it's what the rest didn't want. I had a fling out about the whole thing just before I left the house and I came down to grumble to the creek. Why, that's funny!"

"What's funny?" inquired Mr. Keeler, as Roy looked up with a half smile.

"Why, it's just a month ago to-day since Rex came down here to mope because we didn't have money enough to let him go on a trip to Canada, and now I've come here to do the same thing because we're come into a fortune."

"Then you don't care for the money?" remarked the author.

"Not if it's going to break up a family the way it has ours. Jess used to be awfully lively and full of fun, and now she's all the time talking about new clothes and the places she wants to go, and how she's going to have her room decorated in the new house."

"But I thought you said she wanted to go to Europe."

"So I did. That's one of the troubles. She don't know what she wants.

It's one thing one minute and another the next."

"But your mother? Doesn't she have something to say about it?"