You won't be getting anything of a night's rest if you don't go to bed." Jeff raised his head.

His eyes, sombre with thought, met hers.

"Is it late ?" he said abstractedly.
"And you such an early riser," said Granny Grimshaw.
She went across to the fire and began to rake it out, he watching her in silence, still with that sombre look in his dark eyes.
Very suddenly Granny Grimshaw turned and, poker in hand, confronted him.

She was wearing a large Paisley shawl over her pink flannel nightdress, but the figure she presented, though quaint, was not unimposing.
"Master Jeff," she said, "don't you be too modest and retiring, my dear.
You're just as good as the best of 'em." A slow, rather hard smile drew the corners of the man's mouth.

"They don't think so," he observed.
"They mayn't," said Granny Grimshaw severely.