Bobby jumped into the pocket and turned 'round and 'round. His
little muzzle opened for a delighted bark at this original play,
but Auld Jock checked him.

"Cuddle doon noo, an' lie canny as pussy." With a deft turn he
brought the weighted end of the plaid up under his arm so there
would be no betraying drag. "We'll pu' the wool ower the auld
wifie's een," he chuckled.

He mounted the stairs almost blithely, and knocked on one of the
three narrow doors that opened on the two-by-eight landing. It
was opened a few inches, on a chain, and a sordid old face,
framed in straggling gray locks and a dirty mutch cap, peered
suspiciously at him through the crevice.

Auld Jock had his money in hand--a shilling and a sixpence--to
pay for a week's lodging. He had slept in this place for several
winters, and the old woman knew him well, but she held his coins
to the candle and bit them with her teeth to test them. Without a
word of greeting she shoved the key to the sleeping-closet he had
always fancied, through the crack in the door, and pointed to a
jug of water at the foot of the attic stairs. On the proffer of a
halfpenny she gave him a tallow candle, lighted it at her own and
fitted it into the neck of a beer bottle.

"Ye hae a cauld." she said at last, with some hostility. "Gin ye
wauken yer neebors yell juist hae to fecht it oot wi' 'em."

"Ay, I ken a' that," Auld Jock answered. He smothered a cough in
his chest with such effort that it threw him into a perspiration.