over coils of rope and
the obstacles of luggage, looked precisely as if he had come out of a
bandbox. He was so very much starched, indeed, that Jeff could not
help wondering if a summer in the plains would make him less stiff. As
he came nearer and put out a hand to the little boy, who was his wife's
nephew, it seemed like a piece of wood with mechanical joints.

"So this is Mary's son," he said in a formal way. "How do you do,
little fellow. You're not much of a specimen to send home. I suppose
they have spoilt you pretty well in India. What is your name? Ah,
yes, Geoffry, to be sure; after your father's family, I suppose."

Jeff did not like the way in which Mr. Colquhoun spoke his father's
name. He was quickly sensitive to a tone or look. In after days he
wondered much why an attitude of hostility was always tacitly assumed
towards his father.

"My father's people have always been brave soldiers. Two of his
brothers were killed in the mutiny; they were heroes, I think. They
were called Geoffry and Roger."

The little boy made up his mind that he should never like the new
uncle. The disparaging accent on his father's name was an insult.

Mr. Colquhoun had married Jeff's aunt, his mother's eldest sister, and
lived at Loch Lossie with grandmama, under whose roof Jeff was to be.

But Jeff did not know yet that grandmama was only the nominal ruler
there.

The little boy began to wonder at once if his young cousins would speak
in the same dry methodical way as their father. It was just like
measuring off words by the yard. How very tiresome it would be to
listen to all day.

And would all people in England be so clean and precise as this new
uncle?

During the short railway journey up to London from the docks, Jeff
watched Mr. Colquhoun with an uneasy stare that would have been
embarrassing had the object of this attentive scrutiny become aware of
it. Old Maggie's nudges and whispered remonstrance produced no effect.

By and by the travellers were taken to a big hotel near a railway
station, and dinner was ordered for them in a great gilt coffee room.
They were informed they would have to wait at the hotel till the night
express started for Scotland. Jeff was much happier in his mind when
Mr. Colquhoun drove away in a hansom to transact his business. Left
alone with Maggie, he proposed a walk through those wonderful busy
streets outside, and when he came back he sat down to write his Indian
l