est and lowest, the proudest and humblest in the Scottish
capital. Now, at mention of Auld Jock, Bobby put his shagged paws up
inquiringly on the edge of the pew, so that Mr. Traill lifted him. He
lay down flat between the two men, with his nose on his paws, and his
little tousled head under the Lord Provost's hand.

Auld Jock lived again in that recital. Glenormiston, coming from the
country of the Ettrick shepherd, knew such lonely figures, and the
pathos of old age and waning powers that drove them in to the poor
quarters of towns. There was pictured the stormy night and the simple
old man who sought food and shelter, with the devoted little dog that
"wasna 'is ain." Sick unto death he was, and full of ignorant prejudices
and fears that needed wise handling. And there was the well-meaning
landlord's blunder, humbly confessed, and the obscure and tragic result
of it, in a foul and swarming rookery "juist aff the Coogate."

"Man, it was Bobby that told me of his master's condition. He begged me
to help Auld Jock, and what did I do but let my fule tongue wag about
doctors. I nae more than turned my back than the auld body was awa' to
his meeserable death. It has aye eased my conscience a bit to feed the
dog."

"That's not the only reason why you have fed him." There was a twinkle
in the Lord Provost's eye, and Mr. Traill blushed.

"Weel, I'll admit to you that I'm fair fulish about Bobby. Man, I've
courted that sma' terrier for eight and a half years. He's as polite
and friendly as the deil, but he'll have naething to do with me or with
onybody. I wonder the intelligent bit doesn't bite me for the ill turn I
did his master."

Then there was the story of Bobby's devotion to Auld Jock's memory to be
told--the days when he faced starvation rather than desert that grave,
the days when he lay cramped under the fallen table-tomb, and his
repeated, dramatic escapes from the Pentland farm. His never broken
silence in the kirkyard was only to be explained by the unforgotten
orders of his dead master. His intelligent effort to make himself useful
to the caretaker had won indulgence. His ready obedience, good temper,
high spirits and friendliness had made him the special pet of the
tenement children and the Heriot laddies. At the very last Mr. Traill
repeated the talk he had had with the non-commissioned officer from the
Castle, and confessed his own fear of some forlorn end for Bobby. It was
true he was nobody's dog; and he