he was eating her porridge at the window, "by her lane," when he
"keeked up at her so knowing, and begged so bonny," that she balanced
her bit bowl on a lath, and pushed it over on the kirkyard wall. As she
finished the story the big, blue eyes of the little maid, who doubtless
had herself known what it was to be hungry, filled with tears.

"The wee tyke couldna loup up to it, an' a deil o' a pussy got it a'. He
was so bonny, like a leddy's pet, an' syne he fell ower on the snaw an'
creepit awa'. He didna cry oot, but he was a' but deid wi' hunger."
At the memory of it soft-hearted Ailie Lindsey sobbed on her mother's
shoulder.

The tale was retold from one excited window to another, all the way
around and all the way up to the gables, so quickly could some incident
of human interest make a social gathering in the populous tenements.
Most of all, the children seized upon the touching story. Eager and
pinched little faces peered wistfully into the melancholy kirkyard.

"Is he yer ain dog?" crippled Tammy Barr piped out, in his thin treble.
"Gin I had a bonny wee dog I'd gie 'im ma ain brose, an' cuddle 'im, an'
he couldna gang awa'."

"Nae, laddie, he's no' my dog. His master lies buried here, and the leal
Highlander mourns for him." With keener appreciation of its pathos, Mr.
Traill recalled that this was what Auld Jock had said: "Bobby isna ma
ain dog." And he was conscious of wishing that Bobby was his own, with
his unpurchasable love and a loyalty to face starvation. As he mounted
the turfed terraces he thought to call back:

"If you see him again, lassie, call him 'Bobby,' and fetch him up to
Greyfriars Dining-Rooms. I have a bright siller shulling, with the
Queen's bonny face on it, to give the bairn that finds Bobby."

There was excited comment on this. He must, indeed, be an attractive
dog to be worth a shilling. The children generously shared plans for
capturing Bobby. But presently the windows were closed, and supper was
resumed. The caretaker was irritable.

"Noo, ye'll hae them a' oot swarmin' ower the kirkyaird. There's nae
coontin' the bairns o' the neeborhood, an' nane o' them are so weel
broucht up as they micht be."

Mr. Traill commented upon this philosophically: "A bairn is like a dog
in mony ways. Tak' a stick to one or the other and he'll misbehave. The
children here are poor and neglected, but they're no' vicious like the
awfu' imps of the Cowgate, wha'd steal from their blind grandmithers.