into broad, burry Scotch.

"Dinna fash yersel', man. The wee beastie is maist michty fond o'
ye, an' ilka dog aye chooses 'is ain maister."

Auld Jock shook his head and gave a brief account of Bobby's
perversity. On the very next market-day the little dog must be
restored to the tenant of Cauldbrae farm and, if necessary, tied
in the cart. It was unlikely, young as he was, that he would try
to find his way back, all the way from near the top of the
Pentlands. In a day or two he would forget Auld Jock.

"I canna say it wullna be sair partin'--" And then, seeing the
sympathy in the landlord's eye and fearing a disgraceful
breakdown, Auld Jock checked his self betrayal. During the talk
Bobby stood listening. At the abrupt ending, he put his shagged
paws up on Auld Jock's knee, wistfully inquiring about this
emotional matter. Then he dropped soberly, and slunk away under
his master's chair.

"Ay, he kens we're talkin' aboot 'im."

"He's a knowing bit dog. Have you attended to his sairous
education, man?"

"Nae, he's ower young."

"Young is aye the time to teach a dog or a bairn that life is no'
all play. Man, you should put a sma' terrier at the vermin an'
mak' him usefu'."