the day from overmoist emotions. And presently Mr. Traill was
able to say in a business-like tone:

"We'll hae to tak' ye to the infirmary. An' if they canna mak'
yer legs ower ye'll get a pair o' braw crutches that are the
niest thing to gude legs. An' syne we'll see if there's no' a
place in Heriot's for a sma' laddie that mak's up bonny tales o'
his ain in the murky auld Cunzie Neuk."

Now the gay little feast was eaten, and early dark was coming on.
If Mr. Traill had entertained the hope that Bobby had recovered
from his grief and might remain with him, he was disappointed.
The little dog began to be restless. He ran to the door and back;
he begged, and he scratched on the panel. And then he yelped! As
soon as the door was opened he shot out of it, tumbled down the
stairway and waited at the foot impatiently for the lower door to
be unlatched. Ailie's thin, swift legs were left behind when
Bobby dashed to the kirkyard.

Tammy followed at a surprising pace on his rude crutches, and Mr.
Traill brought up the rear. If the children could not smuggle the
frantic little dog inside, the landlord meant to put him over the
wicket and, if necessary, to have it out with the caretaker, and
then to go before the kirk minister and officers with his plea.
He was still concealed by the buildings, from the alcoved gate,
when he heard Mr. Brown's gruff voice taking the frightened
bairns to task.

"Gie me the dog; an' dinna ye tak' him oot ony mair wi'oot
spierin' me."