Traill.
"He isna here." The shy lassie was made almost speechless by
recognizing, in this neat, well-spoken clerk, an old Heriot boy,
once as poor as herself.
"Do you wark for him, lassie? Weel, do you know how he cam' out
in the Burgh court about the bit dog?"
There was only one "bit dog" in the world to Ailie. Wild eyed
with alarm at mention of the Burgh court, in connection with that
beloved little pet, she stammered: "It's--it's--no' a coort he
gaed to. Maister Traill's tak'n Bobby awa' to a braw kirk."
Sandy nodded his head. "Ay, that would be the police office in
St. Giles. Lassie, tell Mr. Traill I sent the Lord Provost, and
if he's needing a witness to ca' on Sandy McGregor. "
Ailie stared after him with frightened eyes. Into her mind
flashed that ominous remark of the policeman two days before: "I
didna ken ye had a dog, John?" She overtook Sandy in front of the
sheriff's court on the bridge.
"What--what hae the police to do wi' bittie dogs?"
"If a dog has nae master to pay for his license the police can
tak' him up and put him out o' the way."
"Hoo muckle siller are they wantin'?"
"Seven shullings. Gude day, lassie; I'm fair late." Sandy was not
really alarmed about Bobby since the resourceful Mr. Traill had
taken up his cause, and he had no idea of the panic of grief and
fright that overwhelmed this forlorn child.
Seven shullings! It was an enormous sum to the tenement bairn,
whose half-blind grandmither knitted and knitted in a dimly
lighted room, and hoarded halfpennies and farthings to save
herself from pauper burial.
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