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Page 61
"Are ye kennin' what it is to gie the freedom o' the toon to
grand folk?"
"It's--it's when the bonny Queen comes an' ye gie her the keys to
the burgh gates that are no' here ony mair." Tammy, being in
Heriot's, was a laddie of learning.
"Weel done, laddie. Lang syne there was a wa' aroond Edinburgh
wi' gates in it." Oh yes, all these bairnies knew that, and the
fragment of it that was still to be seen outside and above the
Grassmarket, with its sentry tower by the old west port. "Gin a
fey king or ither grand veesitor cam', the Laird Provost an' the
maigestrates gied 'im the keys so he could gang in an' oot at 'is
pleesure. The wa's are a' doon noo, an' the gates no' here ony
mair, but we hae the keys, an' we mak' a show o' gien' 'em to
veesitors wha are vera grand or wise or gude, or juist usefu' by
the ordinar'."
"Maister Gladstane," said Tammy.
"Ay, we honor the Queen's meenisters; an' Miss Nightingale, wha
nursed the soldiers i' the war; an' Leddy Burdett-Coutts, wha
gies a' her siller an' a' her heart to puir folk an' is aye kind
to horses and dogs an' singin' birdies; an' we gie the keys to
heroes o' the war wha are brave an' faithfu'. An' noo, there's a
wee bit beastie. He's weel-behavin', an' isna makin' a blatterin'
i' an auld kirkyaird. He aye minds what he's bidden to do. He's
cheerfu' an' busy, keepin' the proolin' pussies an' vermin frae
the sma' birdies i' the nests. He mak's friends o' ilka body, an'
he's faithfu'. For a deid man he lo'ed he's gaun hungry; an' he
hasna forgotten 'im or left 'im by 'is lane at nicht for mair
years than some o' ye are auld. An' gin ye find 'im lyin' canny,
an' ye tak' a keek into 'is bonny brown een, ye can see he's aye
greetin'. An' so, ye didna ken why, but ye a' lo'ed the lanely
wee--"
"Bobby!" It was an excited breath of a word from the wide-eyed
bairns.
"Bobby! Havers! A bittie dog wadna ken what to do wi' keys."
But Glenormiston was smiling, and these sharp witted slum bairns
exchanged knowing glances. "Whaur's that sma'--?" He dived into
this pocket and that, making a great pretense of searching, until
he found a narrow band of new leather, with holes in one end and
a stout buckle on the other, and riveted fast in the middle of it
was a shining brass plate. Tammy read the inscription aloud:
GREYFRIARS BOBBY
FROM THE LORD PROVOST
1867 Licensed
The wonderful collar was passed from hand to hand in awed
silence. The children stared and stared at this white-haired and
bearded man, who "wasna grand ava," but who talked to them as
simply and kindly as a grandfaither. He went right on talking to
them in his homely way to put them at their ease, telling them
that nobody at all, not even the bonny Queen, could be more than
kind and well-behaving and faithful to duty. Wee Bobby was all
that, and so "Gin dizzens an' dizzens o' bairns war kennin' 'im,
an' wad fetch seven shullin's i' their ha'pennies to a kirk, they
could buy the richt for the braw doggie to be leevin', the care
o' them a', i' the auld kirkyaird o' Greyfriars. An' he maun hae
the collar so the police wull ken 'im an' no' ever tak' 'im up
for a puir, gaen-aboot dog."
The children quite understood the responsibility they assumed,
and their eyes shone with pride at the feeling that, if more
fortunate friends failed, this little creature must never be
allowed to go hungry. And when he came to die--oh, in a very,
very few years, for they must remember that "a doggie isna as
lang-leevin' as folk"--they must not forget that Bobby would not
be permitted to be buried in the kirkyard.
"We'll gie 'im a grand buryin'," said Tammy. "We'll find a green
brae by a babblin' burn aneath a snawy hawthorn, whaur the
throstle sings an' the blackbird whustles." For the crippled
laddie had never forgotten Mr. Traill's description of a proper
picnic, and that must, indeed, be a wee dog's heaven.
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