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Greyfriars Bobby by Eleanor Stackhouse Atkinson
page 79 of 232 (34%)
Through all this talk Bobby had lain quietly by the door, in the
expectation that it would be unlatched. Impatient of delay, he
began to whimper and to scratch on the panel. The lassie opened
her blue eyes at that, scrambled down, and ran to him. Instantly
Bobby was up, tugging at her short little gown and begging to be
let out. When she clasped her chubby arms around his neck and
tried to comfort him he struggled free and set up a dreadful
howling.

"Hoots, Bobby, stap yer havers!" shouted the farmer.

"Eh, lassie, he'll deave us a'. We'll juist hae to put 'im i' the
byre wi' the coos for the nicht," cried the distracted mither.

"I want Bobby i' the bed wi' me. I'll cuddle 'im an' lo'e 'im
till he staps greetin'."

"Nae, bonny wee, he wullna stap." The farmer picked the child up
on one arm, gripped the dog under the other, and the gude wife
went before with a lantern, across the dark farmyard to the
cow-barn. When the stout door was unlatched there was a smell of
warm animals, of milk, and cured hay, and the sound of full,
contented breathings that should have brought a sense of
companionship to a grieving little creature.

"Bobby wullna be lanely here wi' the coos, bairnie, an' i' the
morn ye can tak' a bit rope an' haud it in a wee hand so he canna
brak awa', an' syne, in a day or twa, he'll be forgettin' Auld
Jock. Ay, ye'll hae grand times wi' the sonsie doggie, rinnin'
an' loupin' on the braes."
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