The first week of it dragged slowly by.  Some of his Marley friends wanted him to come down there and spend his Saturday.

He had not yet decided Friday night whether he wanted to go, when the door bell rang, and a messenger appeared with a telegram for Roy Pell.

It was dated at some town in Jersey of which he had never heard, and was very brief, but the one word signed to it was worth a hundred lines, for that name was “Rex.”

“All safe.  Will write soon.”

That was all, and when he read it to the family, the wild exclamations of joy were succeeded by perplexed impatience.

“Why didn’t he tell us where to find him?” Eva wanted to know.

“Why didn’t he send word to mother?” added Jess.

“Why does he not explain his long silence?” said Mrs. Fell fearing the worst.

Sydney was away at Harrisburg, and Roy decided that instead of going to Marley the following day, he would find out where this New Jersey town was and hunt up Rex at once.

Mrs. Pell wanted to go with him, but Roy reminded her that he might have considerable difficulty in tracing Rex, so it was decided that she wait until she heard from him.

From a railroad time table Roy ascertained where he must go, and by the first train he could get in the morning he set out.

“Be very gentle with him, Roy,” his mother said at parting.  “By his sending to you he evidently thinks I am greatly displeased with him.”

“Trust me, mother,” Roy assured her with a smile.

He felt very happy this morning, happier than he had, it seemed to him, since they had come into their fortune.  Of such worth is sorrow sometimes, to make a contrast by which to intensify joy.

On arriving at his destination he went to the man in the ticket office and put the following inquiry: 

“Do you know anybody in the place named Reginald Pell?”

“No,” was the reply.  “Has he lived here long?”

“No, he doesn’t really live here.  He’s my twin brother, you see, and I have a telegram from him, but he didn’t say where he was staying.  Is this a very big place?”

The ticket agent smiled.  “Well, it isn’t exactly a metropolis,” he said.

“Thank you,” responded Roy, and he walked out of the rear door toward the dusty road, thinking he was not going to have such an easy job to find Rex after all, if he was in the town where he was supposed to be.

The station was built at a little distance from the town proper.  Roy walked on along a board walk until he came to the first house, one of those white, green shuttered affairs whose number is legion in the rural districts.

A woman without a hat on was sweeping the leaves from the path that led down to the gate.  The lines about her mouth were rather stern, but Roy made up his mind to begin with her.

CHAPTER XXIV