tak' him oot ony mair wi'oot spierin' me."

The children fled. Peeping around the angle of the Book Hunter's Stall,
Mr. Traill saw the caretaker lift Bobby over the wicket to his arms, and
start with him toward the lodge. He was perishing with curiosity about
this astonishing change of front on the part of Mr. Brown, but it was a
delicate situation in which it seemed best not to meddle. He went slowly
back to the restaurant, begrudging Bobby to the luckier caretaker.

His envy was premature. Mr. Brown set Bobby inside the lodge kitchen and
announced briefly to his wife: "The bit dog wull sleep i' the hoose
the nicht." And he went about some business at the upper end of the
kirkyard. When he came in an hour later Bobby was gone.

"I couldna keep 'im in, Jamie. He didna blatter, but he greeted so sair
to be let oot, an syne he scratched a' the paint aff the door."

Mr. Brown glowered at her in exasperation. "Woman, they'll hae me up
afore kirk sessions for brakin' the rules, an' syne they'll turn us a'
oot i' the cauld warld togither."

He slammed the door and stormed angrily around the kirk. It was still
light enough to see the little creature on the snowy mound and, indeed,
Bobby got up and wagged his tail in friendly greeting. At that all the
bluster went out of the man, and he began to argue the matter with the
dog.

"Come awa', Bobby. Ye canna be leevin' i' the kirkyaird."

Bobby was of a different opinion. He turned around and around,
thoughtfully, several times, then sat up on the grave. Entirely willing
to spend a social hour with his new friend, he fixed his eyes hospitably
upon him. Mr. Brown dropped to the slab, lighted his pipe, and smoked
for a time, to compose his agitated mind. By and by he got up briskly
and stooped to lift the little dog. At that Bobby dug his claws in the
clods and resisted with all his muscular body and determined mind. He
clung to the grave so desperately, and looked up so piteously, that the
caretaker surrendered. And there was snod Mistress Jeanie, forgetting
her spotless gown and kneeling in the snow.

"Puir Bobby, puir wee Bobby!" she cried, and her tears fell on the
little tousled head. The caretaker strode abruptly away and waited for
the wifie in the shadow of the auld kirk. Bobby lifted his muzzle and
licked the caressing hand. Then he curled himself up comfortably on the
mound and went to sleep.

VIII.

In no part of Edinburgh did summer come up earlier, or w