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 glittering 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."