and scrambled up over Auld Jock's legs into the cart. In an
instant he poked his little black mop of a wet muzzle into his
master's face and barked once, sharply, in his ear.

To Bobby's delight Auld Jock sat up and blinked his eyes. The old
eyes were brighter, the grizzled face redder than was natural,
but such matters were quite outside of the little dog's ken. It
was a dazed moment before the man remembered that Bobby should
not be there. He frowned down at the excited little creature, who
was wagging satisfaction from his nose-tip to the end of his
crested tail, in a puzzled effort to remember why.

"Eh, Bobby!" His tone was one of vague reproof. "Nae doot ye're
fair satisfied wi' yer ainsel'."

Bobby's feathered tail drooped, but it still quivered, all ready
to wag again at the slightest encouragement. Auld Jock stared at
him stupidly, his dizzy head in his hands. A very tired, very
draggled little dog, Bobby dropped beside his master, panting,
subdued by the reproach, but happy. His soft eyes, veiled by the
silvery fringe that fell from his high forehead, were deep brown
pools of affection. Auld Jock forgot, by and by, that Bobby
should not be there, and felt only the comfort of his
companionship.

"Weel, Bobby," he began again, uncertainly. And then, because his
Scotch peasant reticence had been quite broken down by Bobby's
shameless devotion, so that he told the little dog many things
that he cannily concealed from human kind, he confided the
strange weakness and dizziness in the head that had overtaken