The sagacious little dog understood, and pattered about the place
silently. Exhausting it in a moment, and very plainly puzzled and
bored, he sat on his haunches, yawned wide, and looked up
inquiringly to his master. Auld Jock set the jug and the candle
on the floor and slipped off his boots. He had no wish to "wauken
'is neebors." With nervous haste he threw back one of the windows
on its hinges, reached across the wide stone ledge and brought
in-wonder of wonders, in such a place a tiny earthen pot of
heather!

"Is it no' a bonny posie?" he whispered to Bobby. With this
cherished bit of the country that he had left behind him the
April before in his hands, he sat down in the fireplace bed and
lifted Bobby beside him. He sniffed at the red tuft of
purple bloom fondly, and his old face blossomed into smiles. It
was the secret thought of this, and of the hillward outlook from
the little windows, that had ironed the lines from his face in
Mr. Traill's dining-room. Bobby sniffed at the starved plant,
too, and wagged his tail with pleasure, for a dog's keenest
memories are recorded by the nose.

Overhead, loose tiles and finials rattled in the wind, that was
dying away in fitful gusts; but Auld Jock heard nothing. In fancy
he was away on the braes, in the shy sun and wild wet of April
weather. Shepherds were shouting, sheepdogs barking, ewes
bleating, and a wee puppy, still unnamed, scampering at his heels
in the swift, dramatic days of lambing time. And so, presently,
when the forlorn hope of the little pot had been restored to the
ledge, master and dog were in tune with the open country, and