Jeff with an air of deep disappointment. "Oh, how dirty it looks! it's nothing half as grand as Bombay."
A tall thin gentleman with whiskers beginning to turn gray had walked past Jeff twice, casting a scrutinizing glance towards him. The little boy had noticed the stranger because he was so oddly stiff and very stern looking. At this moment Maggie came up the companion steps and started towards this gentleman with a cry of recognition.
"Mr. Colquhoun, here we are, sir!"
The angular gentleman, who stepped so carefully over coils of rope and the obstacles of luggage, looked precisely as if he had come out of a bandbox. He was so very much starched, indeed, that Jeff could not help wondering if a summer in the plains would make him less stiff. As he came nearer and put out a hand to the little boy, who was his wife's nephew, it seemed like a piece of wood with mechanical joints.
"So this is Mary's son," he said in a formal way. "How do you do, little fellow. You're not much of a spe