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Page 38
"He was i' the kirkyaird."
"Sittin' upon a stane by 'is ainsel'," added Ailie.
"An' no' hidin', ava. It was juist like he was leevin' there."
"An' syne, when I drapped oot o' the window he louped at me so
bonny, an' I couldna keep up wi' 'im to the gate."
Wonder of wonders! It was plain that Bobby had made his way back
from the hill farm and, from his appearance and manner, as well
as from this account, it was equally clear that some happy change
in his fortunes had taken place. He sat up on his haunches
listening with interest and lolling his tongue! And that was a
thing the bereft little dog had not done since his master died.
In the first pause in the talk he rose and begged for his dinner.
"Noo, what am I to pay? It took ane, twa, three o' ye to fetch
ane sma' dog. A saxpence for the laddie, a saxpence for the
lassie, an' a bit meal for Bobby."
While he was putting the plate down under the settle Mr. Traill
heard an amazed whisper "He's gien the doggie a chuckie bane."
The landlord switched the plate from under Bobby's protesting
little muzzle and turned to catch the hungry look on the faces of
the children. Chicken, indeed, for a little dog, before these
ill-fed bairns! Mr. Traill had a brilliant thought.
"Preserve me! I didna think to eat ma ain dinner. I hae so muckle
to eat I canna eat it by ma lane."
The idea of having too much to eat was so preposterously funny
that Tammy doubled up with laughter and nearly tumbled over his
crutches. Mr. Traill set him upright again.
"Did ye ever gang on a picnic, bairnies?" And what was a picnic?
Tammy ventured the opinion that it might be some kind of a cart
for lame laddies to ride in.
"A picnic is when ye gang gypsying in the summer," Mr. Traill
explained. "Ye walk to a bonny green brae, an' sit doon under a
hawthorntree a' covered wi' posies, by a babblin' burn, an' ye
eat oot o' yer ain hands. An' syne ye hear a throstle or a
redbreast sing an' a saucy blackbird whustle."
"Could ye tak' a dog?" asked Tammy.
"Ye could that, mannie. It's no' a picnic wi'oot a sonsie doggie
to rin on the brae wi' ye."
"Oh!" Ailie's blue eyes slowly widened in her pallid little face.
"But ye couldna hae a picnic i' the snawy weather."
"Ay, ye could. It's the bonniest of a' when ye're no' expectin'
it. I aye keep a picnic hidden i' the ingleneuk aboon." He
suddenly swung Tammy up on his shoulder, and calling, gaily,
"Come awa'," went out the door, through another beside it, and up
a flight of stairs to the dining-room above. A fire burned there
in the grate, the tables were covered with linen, and there were
blooming flowers in pots in the front windows. Patrons from the
University, and the well-to-do streets and squares to the south
and east, made of this upper room a sort of club in the evenings.
At four o'clock in the afternoon there were no guests.
"Noo," said Mr. Traill, when his overcome little guests were
seated at a table in the inglenook. "A picnic is whaur ye hae
onything ye fancy to eat; gude things ye wullna be haein' ilka
day, ye mind." He rang a call-bell, and a grinning waiter laddie
popped up so quickly the lassie caught her breath.
"Eneugh broo for aince," said Tammy.
"Porridge that isna burned," suggested Ailie. Such pitiful
poverty of the imagination!
"Nae, it's bread, an' butter, an' strawberry jam, an' tea wi'
cream an' sugar, an' cauld chuckie at a snawy picnic," announced
Mr. Traill. And there it was, served very quickly and silently,
after some manner of magic. Bobby had to stand on the fourth
chair to eat his dinner, and when he had despatched it he sat up
and viewed the little party with the liveliest interest and
happiness.
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