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Page 58
"Oh, are ye kennin' 'im? Isna he bonny an' sonsie? Gie me the
shullin' an' twapenny ha' penny we're needin', so the police
wullna put 'im awa'."
"Losh! It's a license you're wanting? I wish I had as many
shullings as I've had gude times with Bobby, and naething to pay
for his braw company."
For this was Geordie Ross, going through the Medical College with
the help of Heriot's fund that, large as it was, was never quite
enough for all the poor and ambitious youths of Edinburgh. And
so, although provided for in all necessary ways, his pockets were
nearly as empty as of old. He could spare a sixpence if he made
his dinner on a potato and a smoked herring. That he was very
willing to do, once he had heard the tale, and he went with Ailie
to the lodgings of other students, and demanded their siller with
no explanation at all.
"Give the lassie what you can spare, man, or I'll have to give
you a licking," was his gay and convincing argument, from door to
door, until the needed amount was made up. Ailie fled recklessly
down the stairs, and cried triumphantly to the upward-looking,
silent crowd that had grown and grown around Tammy, like some
host of children crusaders.
While Ailie and Tammy were collecting the price of his ransom
Bobby was exploring the intricately cut-up interior of old St.
Giles, sniffing at the rifts in flimsily plastered partitions
that the Lord Provost pointed out to Mr. Traill. Rats were in
those crumbling walls. If there had been a hole big enough to
admit him, the plucky little dog would have gone in after them.
Forbidden to enlarge one, Bobby could only poke his indignant
muzzle into apertures, and brace himself as for a fray. And, at
the very smell of him, there were such squeakings and scamperings
in hidden runways as to be almost beyond a terrier's endurance.
The Lord Provost watched him with an approving eye.
"When these partitions are tak'n down Bobby would be vera useful
in ridding our noble old cathedral of vermin. But that will not
be in this wee Highlander's day nor, I fear, in mine." About the
speech of this Peebles man, who had risen from poverty to
distinction, learning, wealth, and many varieties of usefulness,
there was still an engaging burr. And his manner was so simple
that he put the humblest at his ease.
There had been no formality about the meeting at all.
Glenormiston was standing in a rear doorway of the cathedral near
the Regent's Tomb, looking out into the sunny square of
Parliament Close, when Mr. Traill and Bobby appeared. Near
seventy, at that time, a backward sweep of white hair and a
downward flow of square-cut, white beard framed a boldly featured
face and left a generous mouth uncovered.
"Gude morning, Mr. Traill. So that is the famous dog that has
stood sentinel for more than eight years. He should be tak'n up
to the Castle and shown to young soldiers who grumble at
twenty-four hours' guard duty. How do you do, sir!" The great
man, whom the Queen knighted later, and whom the University he
was too poor to attend as a lad honored with a degree, stooped
from the Regent's Tomb and shook Bobby's lifted paw with grave
courtesy. Then, leaving the little dog to entertain himself, he
turned easily to his own most absorbing interest of the moment.
"Do you happen to care for Edinburgh antiquities, Mr. Traill?
Reformation piety made sad havoc of art everywhere. Man, come
here!"
Down into the lime dust the Lord Provost and the landlord went,
in their good black clothes, for a glimpse of a bit of
sculpturing on a tomb that had been walled in to make a passage.
A loose brick removed, behind and above it, the sun flashed
through fragments of emerald and ruby glass of a saint's robe, in
a bricked up window. Such buried and forgotten treasure,
Glenormiston explained, filled the entire south transept. In the
High Kirk, that then filled the eastern end of the cathedral,
they went up a cheap wooden stairway, to the pew-filled gallery
that was built into the old choir, and sat down. Mr. Traill's
eyes sparkled. Glenormiston was a man after his own heart, and
they were getting along famously; but, oh! it began to seem more
and more unlikely that a Lord Provost, who was concerned about
such braw things as the restoration of the old cathedral and
letting the sun into the ancient tenements, should be much
interested in a small, masterless dog.
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