"Always Miss Carrol," murmured Theodore resentfully, and felt that he hated his brother more than ever. All the same, he threw down his half-smoked cigar and moved with the other two men towards the door. The Squire placed his hands over the shoulders of his nephews and walked between them proudly. "There are only three of us to represent the family," he said affectionately, "since Mara, being a girl, doesn't count so much as a man. We must stick together and recover the emerald, so that our good fortune may return. And heaven only knows how badly I need good luck! There's that lawsuit over the Hendle water-rights, and a bad hay-season with the continuous rain--not here, but miles away--and--and----" "If your luck depends upon the emerald," said Theodore crossly, "it will never return. It is on its way to Japan, I tell you." "Well, we have one piece of good luck," cried Basil gaily. "Miss Carrol is in the house." "Damn you!" thought the elder brother amiably. "I'd like to wring your neck, you self-satisfied beast." CHAPTER XI HARRY'S SWEETHEART With the arrival of Basil Dane, life became much brighter and more lively at Beckleigh. The young sailor was active-minded and light-hearted, so that he was always glad to provide amusement for himself and others. He took Patricia and Mara out sailing in the fairy bay, and walked with them across the windy spaces of the moors to view various centres of interest. In the evenings, having a sweet tenor voice, he sang to them, while Miss Carrol played his accompaniments, and, of course, he had much to tell them about foreign parts. No one could possibly be dull while Basil was in the house, and even the Squire left his beloved history of the Colpster family to enjoy the breezy humours of his favourite nephew. The old house awoke, as it were, from sleep, to enjoy a brief holiday of innocent amusement. But although Basil was attentive to Mara, since he greatly wished to arouse her from those dreams which set her apart from others, he gave Patricia most of his company. From the moment he had set eyes on her, he had been attracted by the beauty of her face. Now that he knew her better, and found that she had a heart of gold, he frankly fell in love with such perfections. And very wisely, for Patricia was a rare specimen of her sex. She was not, on her part, averse to his wooing, as, of all the men she had ever met, Basil appeared to be the most trustworthy and fascinating. It was the old story of love at first sight, that miracle at which material-minded people scoff, but which is a veritable truth in spite of such scepticism.