littering windows of the big house which was to be Jeff's new home.

CHAPTER III.

"This is your cousin from India, children," said Mr. Colquhoun, as he
lifted Jeff down from the back of the dog-cart, where he sat with
Maggie.

Then the little traveller saw that the other boy wore a kilt, and was
not at all like his father. The girl had on a sun-bonnet, and Jeff
only got a glimpse of a pair of rosy cheeks.

"You are Brian and Jessie. I have heard about you often. Mother has
your photographs. I cannot see if Jessie is as pretty as her picture;
but how thin your legs are, Brian, like my _dhobees_. Uncle Hugh, do
tell me why do _dhobees_ always have thin legs? Father doesn't know."

Uncle Hugh was one of those very discreet people who never attempt a
reply to children's questions.

"Go into the house, Brian, and take your cousin to have some breakfast
in the nursery. Is your mother up yet? Mind you both come down tidy
in time for prayers."

"But please, Uncle Hugh, I never have breakfast in the nursery. Father
and mother think I am old enough to eat with them. Maggie, _do_ tell
him it is true. Must I really go with them? Can't I see grandmama or
Aunt Annie, first? They are mother's own, her very own relations, you
see. And she did send so many messages. I have said them over and
over again to myself, not to forget. It is very important is it not,
Uncle Hugh, to deliver your despatches?"

Alas for poor Jeff! His pleading was not heard. He had yet to learn
the firm and obdurate nature of the starched gentleman with whiskers.

"Brian, obey me at once. Show your cousin the way upstairs."

And then Jeff, further constrained by old Maggie's hand, was marched
away up two flight of stairs, through a long corridor and double baize
doors, then down another narrower passage into a large square room. It
seemed to Jeff that there was a great deal of heavy furniture
everywhere, and thick carpets, and an excess of light flooding the
rooms. In India the sunshine was always excluded.

Breakfast was laid on the table in the nursery. There were steaming
bowls of porridge and a large glass dish of marmalade set out. An
odour of bacon also was perceptible.

"Isn't my governor a stiff one?" said Brian in a jeering way, as his
cousin drew near the great coal fire and drew off his little worsted
gloves--the gloves which mother had knitted.

"Is your governor a tyrant too?"

Jeff shook his head in a fi