"Ye wullna leave 'im! Ye'll tak' 'im wi' ye, or I'll hae to put
'im oot. Man, I couldna haud the place gin I brak the rules."

"You--will--no'--put--the--wee--dog--out!" Mr. Traill shook a
playful,
emphatic finger under the big man's nose.

"Why wull I no'?"

"Because, man, you have a vera soft heart, and you canna deny
it." It was with a genial, confident smile that Mr. Traill made
this terrible accusation.

"Ma heart's no' so saft as to permit a bit dog to scandalize the
deid."

"He's been here two days, you no' knowing it, and he has
scandalized neither the dead nor the living. He's as leal as ony
Covenanter here, and better conducted than mony a laird. He's no
the quarrelsome kind, but, man, for a principle he'd fight like
auld Clootie." Here the landlord's heat gave way to pure
enjoyment of the situation. "Eh, I'd like to see you put him out.
It would be another Flodden Field."

The angry caretaker shrugged his broad shoulders.

"Ye can see it, gin ye stand by, in juist one meenit. Fecht as he
may, it wull soon be ower."

Mr. Traill laughed easily, and ventured the opinion that Mr.