"
"He's no' a laird."
"Nae; but he'll be a laird the next time the Queen shows her
bonny face north o' the Tweed. Tak' 'a cup o' kindness' with me,
man. Hot tay will tak' the cauld out of vour disposeetion." Mr.
Traill pulled a bell-cord and Ailie, unused as yet to bells, put
her startled little face in at the door to the scullery. At sight
of the policeman she looked more than ever like a scared rabbit,
and her hands shook when she set the tray down before him. A
tenement child grew up in an atmosphere of hostility to uniformed
authority, which seldom appeared except to interfere with what
were considered personal affairs.
The tea mollified the dour man, but there was one more rumbling.
"I'm no' denyin' the Provost's gude-hearted. Ance he got up a
hame for gaen-aboot dogs, an' he had naethin' to mak' by that.
But he canna keep 'is spoon oot o' ilka body's porridge. He's
fair daft to tear doon the wa's that cut St. Giles up into fower,
snod, white kirks, an' mak' it the ane muckle kirk it was in auld
Papist days. There are folk that say, gin he doesna leuk oot,
anither kale wifie wull be throwin' a bit stool at 'is meddlin'
heid."
"Eh, nae doubt. There's aye a plentifu' supply o' fules in the
warld."
Seeing his good friend so well entertained, and needing his
society no longer, Bobby got up, wagged his tail in farewell, and
started toward the door. Mr. Traill summoned the little maid and
spoke to her kindly: "Give Bobby a bone, lassie, and then open
the door for him.
Pages:
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149