etter.

This was finished and posted before his uncle returned, and Jeff felt
very much relieved that it was safe beyond recall. Those cold critical
eyes might have glanced over the contents: and the little boy was aware
that his candour regarding his newly found relative was not flattering.
Maggie and Jeff slept in a Pullman car that night and arrived at Lossie
Bridge early in the morning.

Tired and cold as was this delicate boy his mind was open to receive an
impression of wild beauty in the surrounding country. He thought he
had never seen or even dreamt of anything so beautiful and grand. His
animated enthusiasm and undisguised pleasure seemed to warm something
in his uncle's breast. He even smiled.

The tears rose to Jeff's eyes. Ah! yes, he could understand now why
that dear mother, so far away, pined for her native hills and lakes.

The mists lifting from the rugged mountain sides, with the morning sun
shining bravely on a glittering lake, was a sight most glorious. The
sound of running brooks, the swish of cascades--sounds most strange to
Jeff's ears--made music everywhere.

He was silent with wonder and enjoyment during the long drive from the
station. Grandmother's house on Loch Lossie was a fine stone-built
residence, facing the lake on the south.

It was backed up by the stern heather-clad hills, which sheltered it
from rude north winds. A carriage drive wound along the side of the
lake for nearly a mile, and Jeff was amazed at the orderly aspect of
the shrubberies adjoining it. Everything was clipped and pruned. The
wild luxuriant tangle of Indian jungles, the richly sweet smell of
tropical growths, and the brilliant colouring of foreign flowers were
all so different to this.

Maggie recognized the familiar features of the landscape with repeated
cries of surprise or pleasure. Her hard and wrinkled face beamed with
the joy of a returned exile.

"Why, Maggie, you never talked about Scotland to me at all," said Jeff
in some astonishment as he saw actual tears glistening in her eyes.

"It isn't them as does the most talking as feels the most," she said
sharply, dashing away the unusual moisture.

As they got nearer to the big house, which looked so cold and bare,
Jeff saw that a boy and a little girl stood under the portico awaiting
their arrival.

It was now past seven o'clock and the sun had dispersed the last thin
veil of mist over the mountains, and was shining with might on the
g