Perhaps, in time--"
"It's nae use, ava," Mr. Brown interrupted, and he related the
incident of the evening before. "He's cheerfu' eneugh maist o'
the time, an' likes to be wi' the laddies as weel as ony dog, but
he isna forgettin' Auld Jock. The wee doggie cam' again to 'is
maister's buryin'. Man, ye ne'er saw the like o' it. The wifie
found 'im flattened oot to a furry door-mat, an' greetin' to brak
'is heart."
"It's a remarkable story; and he's a beautiful little dog, and a
leal one." The minister stooped and patted Bobby, and he was
thoughtful all the way to the gate.
"The matter need not be brought up in any formal way. I will
speak to the elders and deacons about it privately, and refer
those wanting details to you, Mr. Traill. Mr. Brown," he called
to the caretaker who stood in the lodge door, "it cannot be
pleasing to God to see the little creature restrained. Give Bobby
his liberty on the Sabbath."
VIII.
It was more than eight years after Auld Jock fled from the threat
of a doctor that Mr. Traill's prediction, that his tongue would
get him into trouble with the magistrates, was fulfilled; and
then it was because of the least-considered slip in speaking to a
boyhood friend who happened to be a Burgh policeman.
Many things had tried the landlord of Ye Olde Greyfriars
Dining-Rooms. After a series of soft April days, in which lilacs
budded and birds sang in the kirkyard, squalls of wind and rain
came up out of the sea-roaring east.
Pages:
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142