ery still and breathing heavily.

Bobby barked as if he would burst his lungs. He barked so long, so loud,
and so furiously, running 'round and 'round the cart and under it and
yelping at every turn, that a slatternly scullery maid opened a door and
angrily bade him "no' to deave folk wi' 'is blatterin'." Auld Jock she
did not see at all in the murky pit or, if she saw him, thought him some
drunken foreign sailor from Leith harbor. When she went in, she slammed
the door and lighted the gas.

Whether from some instinct of protection of his helpless master in that
foul and hostile place, or because barking had proved to be of no use
Bobby sat back on his haunches and considered this strange, disquieting
thing. It was not like Auld Jock to sleep in the daytime, or so soundly,
at any time, that barking would not awaken him. A clever and resourceful
dog, Bobby crouched back against the farthest wall, took a running leap
to the top of the low boots, dug his claws into the stout, home knitted
stockings, and scrambled up over Auld Jock's legs into the cart. In an
instant he poked his little black mop of a wet muzzle into his master's
face and barked once, sharply, in his ear.

To Bobby's delight Auld Jock sat up and blinked his eyes. The old eyes
were brighter, the grizzled face redder than was natural, but such
matters were quite outside of the little dog's ken. It was a dazed
moment before the man remembered that Bobby should not be there.
He frowned down at the excited little creature, who was wagging
satisfaction from his nose-tip to the end of his crested tail, in a
puzzled effort to remember why.

"Eh, Bobby!" His tone was one of vague reproof. "Nae doot ye're fair
satisfied wi' yer ainsel'."

Bobby's feathered tail drooped, but it still quivered, all ready to wag
again at the slightest encouragement. Auld Jock stared at him stupidly,
his dizzy head in his hands. A very tired, very draggled little dog,
Bobby dropped beside his master, panting, subdued by the reproach, but
happy. His soft eyes, veiled by the silvery fringe that fell from his
high forehead, were deep brown pools of affection. Auld Jock forgot, by
and by, that Bobby should not be there, and felt only the comfort of his
companionship.

"Weel, Bobby," he began again, uncertainly. And then, because his
Scotch peasant reticence had been quite broken down by Bobby's shameless
devotion, so that he told the little dog many things that he cannily
concealed fr