It should lie there, below the
altar, and be consecrated to some other blessed work; and he would do
now and here what he had meant to do elsewhere and in a quite different
way. He lifted Bobby to the pulpit so that all might see him, and he
spoke so that all might understand.

"Are ye kennin' what it is to gie the freedom o' the toon to grand
folk?"

"It's--it's when the bonny Queen comes an' ye gie her the keys to the
burgh gates that are no' here ony mair." Tammy, being in Heriot's, was a
laddie of learning.

"Weel done, laddie. Lang syne there was a wa' aroond Edinburgh wi' gates
in it." Oh yes, all these bairnies knew that, and the fragment of it
that was still to be seen outside and above the Grassmarket, with
its sentry tower by the old west port. "Gin a fey king or ither grand
veesitor cam', the Laird Provost an' the maigestrates gied 'im the keys
so he could gang in an' oot at 'is pleesure. The wa's are a' doon noo,
an' the gates no' here ony mair, but we hae the keys, an' we mak' a show
o' gien' 'em to veesitors wha are vera grand or wise or gude, or juist
usefu' by the ordinar'."

"Maister Gladstane," said Tammy.

"Ay, we honor the Queen's meenisters; an' Miss Nightingale, wha nursed
the soldiers i' the war; an' Leddy Burdett-Coutts, wha gies a' her
siller an' a' her heart to puir folk an' is aye kind to horses and dogs
an' singin' birdies; an' we gie the keys to heroes o' the war wha
are brave an' faithfu'. An' noo, there's a wee bit beastie. He's
weel-behavin', an' isna makin' a blatterin' i' an auld kirkyaird. He
aye minds what he's bidden to do. He's cheerfu' an' busy, keepin' the
proolin' pussies an' vermin frae the sma' birdies i' the nests. He mak's
friends o' ilka body, an' he's faithfu'. For a deid man he lo'ed he's
gaun hungry; an' he hasna forgotten 'im or left 'im by 'is lane at
nicht for mair years than some o' ye are auld. An' gin ye find 'im lyin'
canny, an' ye tak' a keek into 'is bonny brown een, ye can see he's aye
greetin'. An' so, ye didna ken why, but ye a' lo'ed the lanely wee--"

"Bobby!" It was an excited breath of a word from the wide-eyed bairns.

"Bobby! Havers! A bittie dog wadna ken what to do wi' keys."

But Glenormiston was smiling, and these sharp witted slum bairns
exchanged knowing glances. "Whaur's that sma'--?" He dived into this
pocket and that, making a great pretense of searching, until he found a
narrow band of new leather, with holes in one end and a stout buc