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Page 56
There was only one "bit dog" in the world to Ailie. Wild eyed
with alarm at mention of the Burgh court, in connection with that
beloved little pet, she stammered: "It's--it's--no' a coort he
gaed to. Maister Traill's tak'n Bobby awa' to a braw kirk."
Sandy nodded his head. "Ay, that would be the police office in
St. Giles. Lassie, tell Mr. Traill I sent the Lord Provost, and
if he's needing a witness to ca' on Sandy McGregor. "
Ailie stared after him with frightened eyes. Into her mind
flashed that ominous remark of the policeman two days before: "I
didna ken ye had a dog, John?" She overtook Sandy in front of the
sheriff's court on the bridge.
"What--what hae the police to do wi' bittie dogs?"
"If a dog has nae master to pay for his license the police can
tak' him up and put him out o' the way."
"Hoo muckle siller are they wantin'?"
"Seven shullings. Gude day, lassie; I'm fair late." Sandy was not
really alarmed about Bobby since the resourceful Mr. Traill had
taken up his cause, and he had no idea of the panic of grief and
fright that overwhelmed this forlorn child.
Seven shullings! It was an enormous sum to the tenement bairn,
whose half-blind grandmither knitted and knitted in a dimly
lighted room, and hoarded halfpennies and farthings to save
herself from pauper burial. Seven shullings would pay a month's
rent for any one of the crowded rooms in which a family lived.
Ailie herself, an untrained lassie who scarcely knew the use of a
toasting-fork, was overpaid by generous Mr. Traill at sixpence
a day. Seven shullings to permit one little dog to live! It did
not occur to Ailie that this was a sum Mr. Traill could easily
pay. No' onybody at all had seven shullings all at once! But, oh!
everybody had pennies and halfpennies and farthings, and she and
Tammy together had a sixpence.
Darting back to the gate, to catch the laddie before he could be
off to school, she ran straight into the policeman, who stood
with his hand on the wicket. He eyed her sharply.
"Eh, lassie, I was gangin' to spier at the lodge, gin there's a
bit dog leevin' i' the kirkyaird."
"I--I--dinna ken." Her voice was unmanageable. She had left to
her only the tenement-bred instinct of concealment of any and all
facts from an officer of the law.
"Ye dinna ken! Maister Traill said i' the coort a' the bairns
aboot kenned the dog. Was he leein'?"
The question stung her into angry admission. "He wadna be leein'.
But--but--the bittie--dog--isna here noo."
"Syne, whaur is he? Oot wi' it!"
"I--dinna--ken!" She cowered in abject fear against the wall. She
could not know that this officer was suffering a bad attack of
shame for his shabby part in the affair. Satisfied that the
little dog really did live in the kirkyard, he turned back to the
bridge. When Tammy came out presently he found Ailie crumpled up
in a limp little heap in the gateway alcove. In a moment the tale
of Bobby's peril was told. The laddie dropped his books and his
crutches on the pavement, and his head in his helpless arms, and
cried. He had small faith in Ailie's suddenly conceived plan to
collect the seven shullings among the dwellers in the tenements.
"Do ye ken hoo muckle siller seven shullin's wad be? It's
auchty-fower pennies, a hundred an' saxty-aucht ha'pennies an'--
an'--I canna think hoo mony farthings."
"I dinna care a bittie bit. There's mair folk aroond the
kirkyaird than there's farthings i' twa, three times seven
shullin's. An' maist ilka body kens Bobby. An' we hae a saxpence
atween us noo."
"Maister Brown wad gie us anither saxpence gin he had ane," Tammy
suggested, wistfully.
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