l drink to the health of the
lady from Ingy."

Jeff took his few coins out of his pocket with a dubious frown.

"There's my bed to pay for here, and some supper, and I've got to get
to the docks to-morrow by ten o'clock. This is all I've got; perhaps I
can spare you a shilling."

They were honest labourers, though rough, and took his shilling, and no
more, and went off to the public-house.

Jeff asked for an egg and some tea and bread and butter, and then said
he would go to bed.

"I'll put you along of my boy 'Arry. He sleeps wonderful quiet, and
some of them is roughish customers to lie alongside of when they comes
in from the 'Lion,'" said the woman as she lighted a candle.

Jeff sighed when he was ushered into the dingy attic where he was to
pass the night, thinking of his own little white bed at Loch Lossie and
all the dainty arrangements of bath and dressing paraphernalia.

The next morning he was astir at day-break, and without casting a
glance at his sleeping companion he went softly down the stairs and
laid his payment on the kitchen table. He had some difficulty in
unbarring the door, but succeeded after many endeavours.

Though it was an April morning the air was very raw and bleak at this
early hour, and the boy shivered repeatedly.

At a coffee-stall in an adjoining street he bought a thick slice of
bread and butter and a steaming cup of what was called tea, sweet and
strong, if not particularly fragrant. Fortified by such nourishment
against the biting air, he inquired of the first policeman he met the
nearest way to the station, and reached it soon after seven o'clock.
There was an hour and a half to wait before his train started, but he
sat down on a sheltered bench and remained an unnoticed little figure
till the train drew up. At about the same hour Mr. Colquhoun was
crossing the border in a southern express in pursuit of the runaway.

CHAPTER VII.

It was the same steamer that Jeff had come home in two years ago. Much
the same sort of scene was going on on the deck as on a former occasion.

The burly form of Captain Clark might be descried from afar pacing up
and down. It seemed all like a dream to the boy, vividly recalling his
own arrival. He rubbed his eyes hard, scarcely feeling sure of his own
identity.

The great steamer had been in dock over half an hour, and those
passengers who had not disembarked at Gravesend were busy with their
luggage.

"Captain Clark, don'