Bobby was of a different opinion. He turned around and around,
thoughtfully, several times, then sat up on the grave. Entirely
willing to spend a social hour with his new friend, he fixed his
eyes hospitably upon him. Mr. Brown dropped to the slab, lighted
his pipe, and smoked for a time, to compose his agitated mind. By
and by he got up briskly and stooped to lift the little dog. At
that Bobby dug his claws in the clods and resisted with all his
muscular body and determined mind. He clung to the grave so
desperately, and looked up so piteously, that the caretaker
surrendered. And there was snod Mistress Jeanie, forgetting her
spotless gown and kneeling in the snow.

"Puir Bobby, puir wee Bobby!" she cried, and her tears fell on
the little tousled head. The caretaker strode abruptly away and
waited for the wifie in the shadow of the auld kirk. Bobby lifted
his muzzle and licked the caressing hand. Then he curled himself
up comfortably on the mound and went to sleep.



VIII.

In no part of Edinburgh did summer come up earlier, or with more
lavish bloom, than in old Greyfriars kirkyard. Sheltered on the
north and east, it was open to the moist breezes of the
southwest, and during all the lengthening afternoons the sun lay
down its slope and warmed the rear windows of the overlooking
tenements. Before the end of May the caretaker had much ado to
keep the growth in order. Vines threatened to engulf the circling