"Nae, no' so mony. Juist the new-born lambs."

"Weel, Sir Walter had a shepherd's plaid, and there was a bit
lassie he was vera fond of Syne, when he had been at the writing
a' the day, and was aff his heid like, with too mony thoughts,
he'd go across the town and fetch the bairnie to keep him
company. She was a weel-born lassie, sax or seven years auld, and
sma' of her age, but no' half as sma' as Bobby, I'm thinking." He
stopped to let this significant comparison sink into Auld Jock's
mind. "The lassie had nae liking for the unmannerly wind and snaw
of Edinburgh. So Sir Walter just happed her in the pouch of his
plaid, and tumbled her out, snug as a lamb and nane the wiser, in
the big room wha's walls were lined with books."

Auld Jock betrayed not a glimmer of intelligence as to the
personal bearing of the story, but he showed polite interest. "I
ken naethin' aboot Sir Walter or ony o' the grand folk." Mr.
Traill sighed, cleared the table in silence, and mended the fire.
It was ill having no one to talk to but a simple old body who
couldn't put two and two together and make four.

The landlord lighted his pipe meditatively, and he lighted his
cruisey lamp for reading. Auld Jock was dry and warm again; oh,
very, very warm, so that he presently fell into a doze. The
dining-room was so compassed on all sides but the front by
neighboring house and kirkyard wall and by the floors above, that
only a murmur of the storm penetrated it. It was so quiet,
indeed, that a tiny, scratching sound in a distant corner was
heard distinctly. A streak of dark silver, as of animated
mercury, Bobby flashed past. A scuffle, a squeak, and he was back