Wonder of wonders! It was plain that Bobby had made his way back
from the hill farm and, from his appearance and manner, as well
as from this account, it was equally clear that some happy change
in his fortunes had taken place. He sat up on his haunches
listening with interest and lolling his tongue! And that was a
thing the bereft little dog had not done since his master died.
In the first pause in the talk he rose and begged for his dinner.

"Noo, what am I to pay? It took ane, twa, three o' ye to fetch
ane sma' dog. A saxpence for the laddie, a saxpence for the
lassie, an' a bit meal for Bobby."

While he was putting the plate down under the settle Mr. Traill
heard an amazed whisper "He's gien the doggie a chuckie bane."
The landlord switched the plate from under Bobby's protesting
little muzzle and turned to catch the hungry look on the faces of
the children. Chicken, indeed, for a little dog, before these
ill-fed bairns! Mr. Traill had a brilliant thought.

"Preserve me! I didna think to eat ma ain dinner. I hae so muckle
to eat I canna eat it by ma lane."

The idea of having too much to eat was so preposterously funny
that Tammy doubled up with laughter and nearly tumbled over his
crutches. Mr. Traill set him upright again.

"Did ye ever gang on a picnic, bairnies?" And what was a picnic?
Tammy ventured the opinion that it might be some kind of a cart
for lame laddies to ride in.