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Page 75
The landlord had not. And there was the story, Bobby's, name
heading quite a quarter of a broad column of fine print, and
beginning with: "A very singular and interesting occurrence was
brought to light in the Burgh court by the hearing of a summons in
regard to a dog tax." Bobby was a famous dog, and Mr. Traill came
in for a goodly portion of reflected glory. He threw up his hands
in dismay.
"It's all over the toon, Sergeant." Turning to the stranger, he
assured him that Bobby was not to be seen. "He hurt himsel' coming
down Castle Rock in the nicht, and is in the lodge with the
caretaker, wha's fair ill. Hoo do I ken?" testily. "Weel, man, I'm
Mr. Traill."
He saw at once how unwise was that admission, for he had to shake
hands with the cordial stranger. And after dismissing him there was
another at the gate who insisted upon going up to the lodge to see
the little hero. Here was a state of things, indeed, that called
upon all the powers of the resourceful landlord.
"All the folk in Edinburgh will be coming, and the poor woman be
deaved with their spiering." And then he began to laugh. "Did you
ever hear o' sic a thing as poetic justice, Sergeant? Nae, it's no'
the kind you'll get in the courts of law. Weel, it's poetic justice
for a birkie soldier, wha claims the airth and the fullness
thereof, to have to tak' his orders from a sma' shopkeeper. Go up
to the police office in St. Gila now and ask for an officer to
stand at the gate here to answer questions, and to keep the folk
awa' from the lodge."
He stood guard himself, and satisfied a score of visitors before
the sergeant came back, and there was another instance of poetic
justice, in the crestfallen Burgh policeman who had been sent with
instructions to take his orders from the delighted landlord.
"Eh, Davie, it's a lang lane that has nae turning. Ye're juist to
stand here a' the day an' say to ilka body wha spiers for the dog:
'Ay, sir, Greyfriars Bobby's been leevin' i' the kirkyaird aucht
years an' mair, an' Maister Traill's aye fed 'im i' the
dining-rooms. Ay, the case was dismissed i' the Burgh coort. The
Laird Provost gied a collar to the bit Skye because there's a
meddlin' fule or twa amang the Burgh police wha'd be takin' 'im up.
The doggie's i' the lodge wi' the caretaker, wha's fair ill, an' he
canna be seen the day. But gang aroond the kirk an' ye can see Auld
Jock's grave that he's aye guarded. There's nae stave to it, but
it's neist to the fa'en table-tomb o' Mistress Jean Grant. A gude
day to ye.' Hae ye got a' that, man? Weel, cheer up. Yell hae to
say it nae mair than a thousand times or twa, atween noo an'
nichtfa'."
He went away laughing at the penance that was laid upon his foe.
The landlord felt so well satisfied with the world that he took
another jaunty crack at the sergeant: "By richts, man, you ought to
go to gaol, but I'll just fine you a shulling a month for Bobby's
natural lifetime, to give the wee soldier a treat of a steak or a
chop once a week."
Hands were struck heartily on the bargain, and the two men parted
good friends. Now, finding Ailie dropping tears in the dish-water,
Mr. Traill sent her flying down to the lodge with instructions to
make herself useful to Mrs. Brown. Then he was himself besieged in
his place of business by folk of high and low degree who were
disappointed by their failure to see Bobby in the kirkyard.
Greyfriars Dining-Rooms had more distinguished visitors in a day
than they had had in all the years since Auld Jock died and a
little dog fell there at the landlord's feet "a' but deid wi'
hunger."
Not one of all the grand folk who, inquired for Bobby at the
kirkyard or at the restaurant got a glimpse of him that day. But
after they were gone the tenement dwellers came up to the gate
again, as they had gathered the evening before, and begged that
they might just tak' a look at him and his braw collar. "The bonny
bit is the bairns' ain doggie, an' the Laird Provost himsel' told
'em he wasna to be neglectet," was one mother's plea.
Ah! that was very true. To the grand folk who had come to see him,
Bobby was only a nine-days' wonder. His story had touched the
hearts of all orders of society. For a time strangers would come to
see him, and then they would forget all about him or remember him
only fitfully. It was to these poor people around the kirkyard,
themselves forgotten by the more fortunate, that the little dog
must look for his daily meed of affection and companionship. Mr.
Traill spoke to them kindly.
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