"I see 'im noo. Isna he bonny? I wish Bobby could bide i' the
kirkyaird, but they wadna let 'im. Tammy, gin ye tak' 'im up to
Maister Traill, he'll gie ye the shullin'!"

"I couldna tak' 'im by ma lane," was the pathetic confession.
"Wad ye gang wi' me, Ailie? Ye could drap ower an' catch 'im, an'
I could come by the gate. Faither made me some grand crutches
frae an' auld chair back."

Tears suddenly drowned the lassie's blue eyes and ran down her
pinched little cheeks. "Nae, I couldna gang. I haena ony shoon to
ma feet."

"It's no' so cauld. Gin I had twa guile feet I could gang the bit
way wi'oot shoon."

"I ken it isna so cauld," Ailie admitted, "but for a lassie it's
no' respectable to gang to a grand place barefeeted."

That was undeniable, and the eager children fell silent and
tearful. But oh, necessity is the mother of makeshifts among the
poor! Suddenly Ailie cried: "Bide a meenit, Tammy," and vanished.
Presently she was back, with the difficulty overcome. "Grannie
says I can wear her shoon. She doesna wear 'em i' the hoose,
ava."

"I'll gie ye a saxpence, Ailie," offered Tammy.

The sordid bargain shocked no feeling of these tenement bairns
nor marred their pleasure in the adventure. Presently there was a