ll, it would be better if he belonged to some one master.
Everybody's dog is nobody's dog," the minister insisted. "I wish you
could attach him to you, Mr. Traill."

"Ay, it's a disappointment to me that he'll no' bide with me. Perhaps,
in time--"

"It's nae use, ava," Mr. Brown interrupted, and he related the incident
of the evening before. "He's cheerfu' eneugh maist o' the time, an'
likes to be wi' the laddies as weel as ony dog, but he isna forgettin'
Auld Jock. The wee doggie cam' again to 'is maister's buryin'. Man, ye
ne'er saw the like o' it. The wifie found 'im flattened oot to a furry
door-mat, an' greetin' to brak 'is heart."

"It's a remarkable story; and he's a beautiful little dog, and a leal
one." The minister stooped and patted Bobby, and he was thoughtful all
the way to the gate.

"The matter need not be brought up in any formal way. I will speak
to the elders and deacons about it privately, and refer those wanting
details to you, Mr. Traill. Mr. Brown," he called to the caretaker who
stood in the lodge door, "it cannot be pleasing to God to see the little
creature restrained. Give Bobby his liberty on the Sabbath."

VIII.

It was more than eight years after Auld Jock fled from the threat of a
doctor that Mr. Traill's prediction, that his tongue would get him into
trouble with the magistrates, was fulfilled; and then it was because of
the least-considered slip in speaking to a boyhood friend who happened
to be a Burgh policeman.

Many things had tried the landlord of Ye Olde Greyfriars Dining-Rooms.
After a series of soft April days, in which lilacs budded and birds sang
in the kirkyard, squalls of wind and rain came up out of the sea-roaring
east. The smoky old town of Edinburgh was so shaken and beaten upon and
icily drenched that rattling finials and tiles were torn from ancient
gables and whirled abroad. Rheumatic pains were driven into the joints
of the elderly. Mr. Brown took to his bed in the lodge, and Mr. Traill
was touchy in his temper.

A sensitive little dog learns to read the human barometer with a degree
of accuracy rarely attained by fellowmen and, in times of low pressure,
wisely effaces himself. His rough thatch streaming, Bobby trotted in
blithely for his dinner, ate it under the settle, shook himself dry, and
dozed half the afternoon.

To the casual observer the wee terrier was no older than when his master
died. As swift of foot and as sound of wind as he had ever be