scouts were sent about in all directions, no word came of the missing lad. Inquiry was made in the nearest township and at Lossie Bridge station in vain. No little traveller had been seen to arrive or depart. Late at night a porter from the next station down the line came up to the house and informed Mr. Colquhoun that a little boy answering to the description of Jeff had taken that morning's mail to London from Drumrig.

It was too late for Mr. Colquhoun to set off in pursuit of the culprit that night, but all preparations were made for his departure the next morning.

Meanwhile Jeff had arrived in the great city, to which he was a stranger, towards evening. A little waif and stray in London, with only five shillings in his pocket! But no fears assailed him. He was encouraged by the great hope of the meeting on the morrow. His heart began beating at the very thought of the loving arms into which he would nestle.

Naturally he was puzzled to know what to do with himself. It was more than probable that the great hotel at the railway station would swallow up his five shillings and leave him without the means of getting to the steamer. He addressed himself to a friendly-looking porter who was staring at him with a certain amount of curiosity, seeing he had no luggage:

"What does it cost to get a bed in there for the night?" he said.

The porter grinned satirically.

"More nor such as you can pay. Yer wouldn't get much change out of a sovereign, I'll be sworn."

He walked down the platform, and Jeff saw that he was making merry with one of his friends over his inquiry. In terror lest some detaining hand might even yet be stretched forth, he hurried out of the station and was soon lost in the small streets about King's Cross.

He at length found a humble-looking lodging, attracted thereto by a card in the window, to the effect that "Lodgings for single men" were to be had.

The woman who opened the door to him looked doubtfully at this youthful customer, but the production of a couple of shillings and an offer from Jeff to pay in advance settled all difficulty.

"I am going down to the docks to-morrow to meet my mother, who is coming from India," he said, giving a frank explanation of his plans. "I shall have to leave quite early and I will pay you to-night."

The woman smiled at the dignified attitude of her would-be lodger, and bade him come in and she would find him a bed to suit.

She saw very well that this was no roughly-nurtured child, and possibly guessed partly at the truth.

There were two or three labouring men taking supper in a back kitchen, and a strong smell of onions and frying fat pervaded the atmosphere.

Jeff felt it would not do to appear squeamish in such company, and drew near to the fire, making a pretence of warming his hands.

"Here's a new lodger, Timothy; you make room for him," said the woman with a broad grin.

"Runned away from school, young marster, I'll be bound," said one rough giant, catching hold of Jeff by the arm. The boy turned his brown eyes steadily on his captor.

"No, I have never been at any school," he said with composure. "But they would not let me meet my mother, who is coming home from India, so I took all the money out of my savings-box and came by the train without telling anyone."

The navvy released him.

"From Ingy! That's a long way to come. And they wouldn't let you meet her! It was a darned shame. You're a well plucked one for your size. Can ye stand treat, young maister? We'll 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't you remember me? It is Jeff Scott."

The boy had taken off his cap in a salute to his old friend. The beauty of his yellow curls was fully revealed. All the sickly paleness resulting from tropical heats had disappeared from Jeff's face, and he stood now on the deck a fair specimen of a healthy English lad.

Captain Clark instantly recognized the steady brown eyes. They recalled another pair of eyes, infinitely sadder, but oh, how like! The golden-haired lady down-stairs had been put under his especial charge, with many injunctions to see to her welfare. But the voyage had not brought back the expected health to her cheek or light to her eyes. It was with a heart full of pity that this good man turned to the boy.

"Eh, my boy, and is it really you? I am glad to see you. Have you come to take a passage back with me?"

But Jeff was not in the mood for any joking this morning.

"I have come to see mother," he said with infinite gravity. "I know she is one of your passengers. Let me go to her at once. Who will tell me which is her cabin?"

The good old sailor's weather-beaten face changed a little.

"You will perhaps take her by surprise, my lad. She is ill—very weak—she cannot stand any shock. Which of her friends or relatives has come to meet her?"

"I have come—only," said Jeff, "I ran away to do it. She would expect me, of course."

Captain Clark looked at the boy, whose fair face flashed at some painful recollection.

"Well done, Jeff." The old captain's voice was husky. "Come with me at once. We will find your mother's maid or the stewardess, but you must promise to be very gentle and not to agitate her."

Jeff smiled with superior wisdom. How could his presence agitate his beloved mother?

At one of the state-room doors off the saloon Captain Clark knocked gently.

An elderly woman answered the summons at once, and held up her finger with a warning "Hush! she is asleep, poor