Theodore caught up one of his slippers. "Will you clear out?" "Mum! Mum! Mum!" jeered Mara, with an elfish laugh. "You can't do anything. And even if I do go, even if Basil does marry Patricia, you won't get Beckleigh. Mum! Mum! Mum!" And she closed the door just in time to escape the slipper which Theodore threw with all his strength. The doctor duly arrived and put the Squire's leg in splints. The old man had recovered his senses, and considering his pain, behaved himself very well. The doctor approved of his patient's fine constitution and cheerfully said that he would soon be on his legs again. "You're not dead yet, sir," he remarked, when Colpster had been made comfortable for the night. "I don't intend to die," said the Squire coolly. "Quite other plans are in my mind. But while I lie here I shan't have anything disturbed in the house. Patricia remember that. Should Akira's yacht arrive, you and Mara and Basil, together with Theodore and the servants, can go to his entertainment." "Oh, we couldn't leave you like that, Mr. Colpster," said Patricia quickly. "You can and you shall. I hate a lot of fuss." And then the doctor took Patricia out of the room to explain that the patient must be kept very quiet, else he would work himself into a fever. "Humour him, Miss Carrol, humour him," said the doctor, as he took his leave. "To-morrow I shall come over and see him. Don't worry." But Patricia did worry, not so much over the Squire, who was getting along fairly well considering his age, as over the fracas with Theodore. She dreaded lest he might speak to the Squire. "And then I should have to leave," said Patricia, much distressed. "I don't see why, dearest," replied Basil, twining his brown fingers in her hair and wondering if God had ever created a more perfect woman. The two were seated, as usual, in the smoking-room, deeming that the safest place, since Theodore since the quarrel had carefully avoided entering it. It was now three days since the accident, and since Basil had been driven to disclose his feelings. They had the house to themselves almost entirely, for Mara rarely troubled them. Theodore, although he had risen from his sick-bed with a more or less discoloured eye, kept to his own rooms, and did not even present himself at meals. He cherished a deep anger against Basil, and was sullen with Patricia as the original cause of his humiliation. The elder Dane had not a forgiving nature. Nor, indeed, did his brother feel inclined to welcome any advances. He was too much disgusted with Theodore to pardon him readily. "I don't see why, dearest," said Basil again, and slipped his arm round Patricia's waist. "Uncle George can't kill us." "He could turn me out of the house, and I have nowhere to go." "There is no reason why he should turn you out. He loves you like a daughter. I'm certain of that." Patricia sighed. "You are wrong, Basil. He loves me, certainly, but not like a daughter."