They were generous to a fault. They would, indeed, fight between themselves for the most trifling possessions, but it was from sheer love of fighting. They never kept for the mere sake of having, and most of their belongings they held in common--jointly against the world as they had known it. And this feeling of being two against outsiders had undoubtedly fostered the communal feeling. As their circle widened and others were admitted into it, the feeling extended to them. They possessed little, but what they had all were welcome to. And they were by nature eminently truthful. To their grandfather or Mr. Kennet they might on occasion assume masks which belied their feelings, but that was in the nature of a ruse to mislead an enemy who by gross injustice had forced them into unnatural ways. To them it was no more acting a lie than is the broken fluttering of a bird which thereby draws the trespasser from its nest. They were in a state of perpetual war with the higher powers, and to them all things were fair. Their faults were the natural complements of these better things. They were headstrong, reckless, careless, hot-tempered--defects, after all, which as a rule entail more trouble on their owners than on others, and are therefore regarded by the world with a lenient eye. For many months Eager found no shade of difference in their development. They had started level, and they progressed in equal degree, and progressed marvellously. The virgin soil brought forth an abundant harvest. But then, in spite of all, it was good soil, and ready for the seed. The grim old man at Carne sent now and again for Eager, and received him always, snuff-box in hand, with a cynical, "Well, Mr. Eager, no progress?" "Progress, Sir Denzil? Heaps! We are advancing by leaps and bounds. We are doing splendidly." "You've still got the two of them, I see,"--as though they were puppies Eager was trying to dispose of. "Still got the two, sir, and I couldn't tell you which is the better of them. There are the makings of fine men in both." "Then you're just where you were as to which is which?" "Just where you have been these ten years, sir." "You have seen more of them in ten weeks than I've seen in ten years." "They are developing every day, but so far they run neck to neck. But, candidly, Sir Denzil, I scarcely know what signs one could take as any decisive indication of their descent. Heredity is a ticklish thing to draw any certain inference from. It plays odd tricks, as you know." "I had hoped somewhat from those swimming lessons----" and he snuffed regretfully. Eager laughed joyously at his disappointment. "Why, they swam like ducks the very first day. You really have no idea what fine lads they are, sir. They are lads to be proud of." "Ay--if there was but one." "It's a thousand pities we can't find the right way out of the muddle without thinking of such things." "We cannot," said the old man grimly. CHAPTER XV DIVERGING LINES