"My governor never bullies his men, if you mean that, Brian. Don't you care about your father? I don't call him a very nice sort of a father, but then of course I needn't like him particularly, because he is only my uncle—only a sort of an uncle too—not a real one."
Brian was a very pretty-looking boy, with auburn hair and large innocent blue eyes. People said he had a heavenly expression, and interpreted a mind to match.
Jessie had pulled off her sun-bonnet, and the nurse, Nan, a big bony woman, was tying a pinafore about her. She could hardly hear the conversation of the two boys on the other side of the room, as Maggie and Nan were carrying on a lively exchange of question and answer.
"Cousin Jeff, I'm quite sure you wouldn't like to have breakfast down-stairs. I did once when Nan was ill, and it was quite drefful," called out Jessie, nodding her head gravely at the recollection. "Papa won't let you drink if you have the least bit in your mouth, and he says everything that is nice isn't good for children. Kidneys and sausages, and herrings and bacon you're only allowed to smell down-stairs. Isn't our breakfast ready now, Nan? I am so hungry." Then the children were bidden to sit down to the table, and Jeff tasted porridge for the first time. He did not care much about it, and watched Maggie devour it with no little astonishment.
"Did mother always eat it, Maggie?"
"Yes, my bairn; and it's fine stuff to make growing lads."
"Well, I'll try and like it," said Jeff rather doubtfully, as he made a second valiant attempt to swallow two or three spoonfuls.
In the course of a very few days Jeff found out that his cousin Brian was not nearly so angelic as he looked. He bullied Jessie, who was a good-tempered little girl, and deceived his father and mother with a wonderful amount of success.
With grandmama, who was really a keen-sighted old lady, his plausible excuses and affectionate embraces did not meet with the same acceptance. Not that he really cared, for he was impatient of her slow ways, and did not feel sorry for her failing sight or feeble limbs; only, he liked the five shillings and half-sovereigns she occasionally bestowed, and thought that he might receive more if he pretended a dutiful behaviour.
Jeff really, however, fell in love with the old lady at first sight. There are very few old people to be seen in India, and the dignity and pathos of her appearance 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.