again, dropping a big rat at the landlord's feet and, wagging his
tail with pride.

"Weel done, Bobby! There's a bite and a bone for you here ony
time o' day you call for it. Ay, a sensible bit dog will attend
to his ain education and mak' himsel' usefu'."

Mr. Traill felt a sudden access of warm liking for the attractive
little scrap of knowingness and pluck. He patted the tousled
head, but Bobby backed away. He had no mind to be caressed by any
man beside his master. After a moment the landlord took "Guy
Mannering" down from the book-shelf. Knowing his "Waverley" by
heart, he turned at once to the passages about Dandie Dinmont and
his terriers--Mustard and Pepper and other spicy wee rascals.

"Ay, terriers are sonsie, leal dogs. Auld Jock will have ane true
mourner at his funeral. I would no' mind if--"

On impulse he got up and dropped a couple of hard Scotch buns,
very good dog-biscuit, indeed, into the pocket of Auld Jock's
greatcoat for Bobby. The old man might not be able to be out the
morn. With the thought in his mind that some one should keep a
friendly eye on the man, he mended the fire with such an
unnecessary clattering of the tongs that Auld Jock started from
his sleep with a cry.

"Whaur is it you have your lodging, Jock?" the landlord asked,
sharply, for the man looked so dazed that his understanding was
not to be reached easily. He got the indefinite information that
it was at the top of one of the tall, old tenements "juist aff