Out of the mass of letters, agents' circulars, notices of sheep for sale, catalogues of city firms, and circulars from pastoral societies, he picked a letter addressed to himself in the scrawling fist of William Grant.

He opened it, expecting to find in it the usual Commination Service on things in general, but as he read on, a vivid surprise spread over his face.
Leaving the other letters and papers unopened, he walked to the door and looked out into the courtyard, where Stuffer, the youngest of his nephews, who was too small to be allowed to join in the field sports of the others, was playing at being a railway train.

He had travelled in a train once, and now passed Hugh's door under easy steam, working his arms and legs like piston-rods, and giving piercing imitations of a steam-whistle at intervals.
"Stuffer," said Hugh, "do you know where your grandmother is ?" "No" said the Stuffer laconically.

"I don't Choo, choo, choo, Whee-aw!" "Well, look here," said Hugh, "you just railway-train yourself round the house till you find her, and let me know where she is.

I want to see her.