had used up the last ounce of fuel. Bobby raced down Forest Road
and turned the slight angle into Greyfriars Place. The lamp
lighter's progress toward the bridge was marked by the double row
of lamps that bloomed, one after one, on the dusk. The little dog
had come to the steps of Mr. Traill's place, and lifted himself
to scratch on the door, when the bugle began to blow. He dropped
with the first note and dashed to the kirkyard gate.

None too soon! Mr. Brown was setting the little wicket gate
inside, against the wall. In the instant his back was turned,
Bobby slipped through. After nightfall, when the caretaker had
made his rounds, he came out from under the fallen table-tomb of
Mistress Jean Grant.

Lights appeared at the rear windows of the tenements, and
families sat at supper. It was snell weather again, the sky dark
with threat of snow, and the windows were all closed. But with a
sharp bark beneath the lowest of them Bobby could have made his
presence and his wants known. He watched the people eating,
sitting wistfully about on his haunches here and there, but
remaining silent. By and by there were sounds of crying babies,
of crockery being washed, and the ringing of church bells far and
near. Then the lights were extinguished, and huge bulks of
shadow, of tenements and kirk, engulfed the kirkyard.

When Bobby lay down on Auld Jock's grave, pellets of frozen snow
were falling and the air had hardened toward frost.