turning him out. And Auld Jock was a vera releegious man. It
would no' be surprising if he taught Bobby to hold his tongue in
a kirkyard."

"Man, he did that vera thing." James Brown brought his fist down
on his knee; for suddenly he identified Bobby as the snappy
little ruffian that had chased the cat and bitten his shins, and
Auld Jock as the scandalized shepherd who had rebuked the dog so
bitterly. He related the incident with gusto.

"The auld man cried oot on the misbehavin' tyke to haud 'is gab.
Syne, ye ne'er saw the bit dog's like for a bairn that'd haen a
lickin'. He'd 'a' gaen into a pit, gin there'd been ane, an' pu'd
it in ahind 'im. I turned 'em baith oot, an' told 'em no' to come
back. Eh, man, it's fearsome hoo ilka body comes to a kirkyaird,
toes afore 'im, in a long box."

Mr. Brown was sobered by this grim thought and then, in his turn,
he confessed a slip to this tolerant man of the world. "The wee
deil o' a sperity dog nipped me so I let oot an aith."

"Ay, that's Bobby. He would no' be afraid of onything with hide
or hair on it. Man, the Skye terriers go into dens of foxes and
wildcats, and worry bulls till they tak' to their heels. And
Bobby's sagacious by the ordinar'." He thought intently for a
moment, and then spoke naturally, and much as Auld Jock himself
might have spoken to the dog.

"Whaur are ye, Bobby? Come awa' oot, laddie!"