"If you see him again, lassie, call him 'Bobby,' and fetch him up
to Greyfriars Dining-Rooms. I have a bright siller shulling, with
the Queen's bonny face on it, to give the bairn that finds
Bobby."

There was excited comment on this. He must, indeed, be an
attractive dog to be worth a shilling. The children generously
shared plans for capturing Bobby. But presently the windows were
closed, and supper was resumed. The caretaker was irritable.

"Noo, ye'll hae them a' oot swarmin' ower the kirkyaird. There's
nae coontin' the bairns o' the neeborhood, an' nane o' them are
so weel broucht up as they micht be."

Mr. Traill commented upon this philosophically: "A bairn is like
a dog in mony ways. Tak' a stick to one or the other and he'll
misbehave. The children here are poor and neglected, but they're
no' vicious like the awfu' imps of the Cowgate, wha'd steal from
their blind grandmithers. Get on the gude side of the bairns,
man, and you'll live easier and die happier."

It seemed useless to search the much longer arm of the kirkyard
that ran southward behind the shops of Greyfriars Place and
Forest Road. If Bobby was in the enclosure at all he would not be
far from Auld Jock's grave. Nearest the new-made mound were two
very old and dark table-tombs. The farther one lay horizontally,
on its upright "through stanes," some distance above the earth.
The supports of the other had fallen, and the table lay on their
thickness within six inches of the ground. Mr. Traill and the