would not, in any case, have depressed his spirits.
He did not know the face of death and, a merry little ruffian of a
terrier, he was ready for any adventure.

On the stone gate pillar was a notice in plain English that no dogs were
permitted in Greyfriars. As well as if he could read, Bobby knew
that the kirkyard was forbidden ground. He had learned that by bitter
experience. Once, when the little wicket gate that held the two tall
leaves ajar by day, chanced to be open, he had joyously chased a cat
across the graves and over the western wall onto the broad green lawn of
Heriot's Hospital.

There the little dog's escapade bred other mischief, for Heriot's
Hospital was not a hospital at all, in the modern English sense of being
a refuge for the sick. Built and christened in a day when a Stuart king
reigned in Holyrood Palace, and French was spoken in the Scottish
court, Heriot's was a splendid pile of a charity school, all towers
and battlements, and cheerful color, and countless beautiful windows.
Endowed by a beruffed and doubleted goldsmith, "Jinglin' Geordie"
Heriot, who had "nae brave laddie o' his ain," it was devoted to the
care and education of "puir orphan an' faderless boys." There it
had stood for more than two centuries, in a spacious park, like the
country-seat of a Lowland laird, but hemmed in by sordid markets and
swarming slums. The region round about furnished an unfailing supply
of "puir orphan an' faderless boys" who were as light-hearted and
irresponsible as Bobby.

Hundreds of the Heriot laddies were out in the noon recess, playing
cricket and leap-frog, when Bobby chased that unlucky cat over the
kirkyard wall. He could go no farther himself, but the laddies took up
the pursuit, yelling like Highland clans of old in a foray across the
border. The unholy din disturbed the sacred peace of the kirkyard.
Bobby dashed back, barking furiously, in pure exuberance of spirits. He
tumbled gaily over grassy hummocks, frisked saucily around terrifying
old mausoleums, wriggled under the most enticing of low-set table tombs
and sprawled, exhausted, but still happy and noisy, at Auld Jock's feet.

It was a scandalous thing to happen in any kirkyard! The angry caretaker
was instantly out of his little stone lodge by the gate and taking Auld
Jock sharply to task for Bobby's misbehavior. The pious old shepherd,
shocked himself and publicly disgraced, stood, bonnet in hand, humbly
apologetic. Seeing that his ma