at each other, the landlord serious, the laddie's lip
trembling. Mr. Traill had not returned from his numerous errands about
the city until the middle of the afternoon. He thought, of course, that
Bobby had been in for his dinner, as usual, and had returned to the
kirkyard. It appeared, now, that no one about the diningrooms had seen
the little dog. Everybody had thought that Mr. Traill had taken Bobby
with him. He hurried down to the gate to find Mistress Jeanie at the
wicket, and a crowd of tenement women and children in the alcove and
massed down Candlemakers Row. Alarm spread like a contagion. In eight
years and more Bobby had not been outside the kirkyard gate after the
sunset bugle. Mrs. Brown turned pale.

"Dinna say the bittie dog's lost, Maister Traill. It wad gang to the
heart o' ma gudemon."

"Havers, woman, he's no' lost." Mr. Traill spoke stoutly enough. "Just
go up to the lodge and tell Mr. Brown I'm--weel, I'll just attend to
that sma' matter my ainsel'." With that he took a gay face and a set-up
air into the lodge to meet Mr. Brown's glowering eye.

"Whaur's the dog, man? I've been deaved aboot 'im a' the day, but I
haena seen the sonsie rascal nor the braw collar the Laird Provost gied
'im. An' syne, wi' the folk comin' to spier for 'im an' swarmin' ower
the kirkyaird, ye'd think a warlock was aboot. Bobby isna your dog--"

"Haud yoursel', man. Bobby's a famous dog, with the freedom of Edinburgh
given to him, and naething will do but Glenormiston must show him to a
company o' grand folk at his bit country place. He's sending in a cart
by a groom, and I'm to tak' Bobby out and fetch him hame after a braw
dinner on gowd plate. The bairns meant weel, but they could no' give
Bobby a washing fit for a veesit with the nobeelity. I had to tak' him
to a barber for a shampoo."

Mr. Brown roared with laughter. "Man, ye hae mair fule notions i' yer
heid. Ye'll hae to pay a shullin' or twa to a barber, an' Bobby'll be
sae set up there'll be nae leevin' wi' 'im. Sit ye doon an' tell me
aboot the collar, man."

"I can no' stop now to wag my tongue. Here's the gude-wife. I'll just
help her get you awa' to your bed."

It was dark when he returned to the gate, and the Castle wore its
luminous crown. The lights from the street lamps flickered on the
up-turned, anxious faces. Some of the children had begun to weep. Women
offered loud suggestions. There were surmises that Bobby had been run
over by a cart in the st