Having done his best, Bobby lay down again, worse in appearance
than before, but with a stouter heart. He did not stir, although
the shadows fled, the sepulchers stood up around the field of
snow, and slabs and shafts camped in ranks on the slope. Smoke
began to curl up from high, clustered chimney-pots; shutters were
opened, and scantily clad women had hurried errands on decaying
gallery and reeling stairway. Suddenly the Castle turrets were
gilded with pale sunshine, and all the little cells in the tall,
old houses hummed and buzzed and clacked with life. The
University bell called scattered students to morning prayers.
Pinched and elfish faces of children appeared at the windows
overlooking the kirkyard. The sparrows had instant news of that,
and the little winged beggars fluttered up to the lintels of
certain deep-set casements, where ill-fed bairns scattered
breakfasts of crumbs.

Bobby watched all this without a movement. He shivered when the
lodge door was heard to open and shut and heavy footsteps
crunched on the gravel and snow around the church. "Juist fair
silly" on his quaking legs he stood up, head and tail drooped.
But he held his ground bravely, and when the caretaker sighted
him he trotted to meet the man, lifted himself on his hind
legs, his short, shagged fore paws on his breast, begging
attention and indulgence. Then he sprawled across the great
boots, asking pardon for the liberty he was taking. At last, all
in a flash, he darted back to the grave, sniffed at it, and stood
again, head up, plumy tail crested, all excitement, as much as to
say: