touched a tender chord. He admired her fine
white hair and handsome features, all furrowed with the countless
little lines of time. And she wore such stiff brocades and silks, such
beautiful old lace, and the funniest brooches, with pictures in them.
Her soft white hands touched him in a loving way, and she had a gentle
voice something like the dear mother's.

Poor Jeff yearned for the tenderness and affection that seemed so far
off. How long it would be before the hunger in his heart would be
satisfied he dared not think. But grandmama was old and feeble, and he
might not stay long in her sitting-room.

It seemed rather hard to Jeff that she was never allowed to have her
own way--that her life was ruled for her. Aunt Annie would always come
and fetch away the little boy after ten minutes, even when grandmama
had sent for him.

But after some weeks, when it was found that the little boy could sit
still and not tease with too many questions or too much talking, he was
allowed to stay longer; sometimes to play draughts with or read to the
old lady.

About Aunt Annie Jeff did not at once make up his mind. She was a tall
woman, with a strong voice and handsome features, who always seemed
busy and in a hurry.

Brian said she knew Latin and Greek, so Jeff decided she must be
clever. She did not wear pretty clothes or soft laces like his mother.
Her dresses were very plain, of some harsh coarse stuff and dull ugly
colours; her manner was always a little abrupt, and she seemed to have
no patience to listen to anything that children said. Jeff supposed
that she was so wise that she could not profit by anything they might
say.

Perhaps nothing in Scotland surprised Jeff more than to find how busy
everyone was, and how much one could do here. Even ladies and rich
people did things for themselves, and their amusements generally seemed
to be like hard work. Young men walked or rode, or played tennis and
cricket incessantly. There was no mid-day sleep; no lying in hammocks
smoking and reading novels. It was never too hot to go out and do
something, though to Jeff it often seemed too cold. By degrees,
however, he became accustomed to the climate, and before the summer had
fully arrived his fair delicate face took a new bloom that would have
gladdened the heart of his mother. He had been more than a month at
Loch Lossie when the following letter was posted to India.

LOCH LOSSIE, _May 10th_.

Dear darling Mot