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Page 55
"Eh, ye takin' bit rascal; loup!" Bobby jumped to the patted
knee, turned around and around on the soft bed that invited him,
licked the beaming old face to show his sympathy and
friendliness, and jumped down again. Mr. Brown sighed because
Bobby steadily but amiably refused to be anybody's lap-dog. The
caretaker turned to the admiring children.
"Ilka morn he fetches 'is bit bane up, thinkin' it a braw giftie
for an ill man. An' syne he veesits me twa times i' the day,
juist bidin' a wee on the hearthstane, lollin' 'is tongue an'
waggin' 'is tail, cheerfu'-like. Bobby has mair gude sense in 'is
heid than mony a man wha comes ben the hoose, wi' a lang face, to
let me ken I'm gangin' to dee. Gin I keep snug an' canny it
wullna gang to the heart. Jeanie, woman, fetch ma fife, wull ye?"
Then there were strange doings in the kirkyard lodge. James Brown
"wasna gangin' to dee" before his time came, at any rate. In his
youth, as under-gardener on a Highland estate, he had learned to
play the piccolo flute, and lately he had revived the pastoral
art of piping just because it went so well with Bobby's delighted
legs. To the sonsie air of "Bonnie Dundee" Bobby hopped and
stepped and louped, and he turned about on his hind feet, his
shagged fore paws drooped on his breast as daintily as the hands
in the portraits of early Victorian ladies. The fire burned
cheerily in the polished grate, and winked on every shining thing
in the room; primroses bloomed in the diamond-paned casement; the
skylark fluttered up and sang in its cage; the fife whistled as
gaily as a blackbird, and the little dog danced with a comic
clumsiness that made them all double up with laughter. The place
was so full of brightness, and of kind and merry hearts, that
there was room for nothing else. Not one of them dreamed that the
shadow of the law was even then over this useful and lovable
little dog's head.
A glance at the wag-at-the-wa' clock reminded Ailie that Mr.
Traill might be waiting for Bobby.
Curious about the mystery, the children took the little dog down
to the gate, happily. They were sobered, however, when Mr. Traill
appeared, looking very grand in his Sabbath clothes. He inspected
Bobby all over with anxious scrutiny, and gave each of the bairns
a threepenny-bit, but he had no blithe greeting for them. Much
preoccupied, he went off at once, with the animated little muff
of a dog at his heels. In truth, Mr. Traill was thinking about
how he might best plead Bobby's cause with the Lord Provost. The
note that was handed him, on leaving the Burgh court the day
before, had read:
"Meet me at the Regent's Tomb in St. Giles at eight o'clock in
the morning, and bring the wee Highlander with you.--
Glenormiston."
On the first reading the landlord's spirits had risen, out of all
proportion to the cause, owing to his previous depression. But,
after all, the appointment had no official character, since the
Regent's Tomb in St. Giles had long been a sort of town pump for
the retailing of gossip and for the transaction of trifling
affairs of all sorts. The fate of this little dog was a small
matter, indeed, and so it might be thought fitting, by the powers
that be, that it should be decided at the Regent's Tomb rather
than in the Burgh court.
To the children, who watched from the kirkyard gate until Mr.
Traill and Bobby were hidden by the buildings on the bridge, it
was no' canny. The busy landlord lived mostly in shirt-sleeves
and big white apron, ready to lend a hand in the rush hours, and
he never was known to put on his black coat and tall hat on a
week-day, except to attend a funeral. However, there was the
day's work to be done. Tammy had a lesson still to get, and
returned to the kirkyard, and Ailie ran up to the dining-rooms.
On the step she collided with a red headed, freckle-faced young
man who asked for Mr. Traill.
"He isna here." The shy lassie was made almost speechless by
recognizing, in this neat, well-spoken clerk, an old Heriot boy,
once as poor as herself.
"Do you wark for him, lassie? Weel, do you know how he cam' out
in the Burgh court about the bit dog?"
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