They were all down on the floor, in the space before the altar,
unwashed, uncombed, unconscious of the dirty rags that scarce
covered them; quite happy and self-forgetful in the charming
friskings and friendly lollings of the well-fed, carefully
groomed, beautiful little dog. Ailie, still so excited that she
forgot to be shy, put Bobby through his pretty tricks. He rolled
over and over, he jumped, he danced to Tammy's whistling of
"Bonnie Dundee," he walked on his hind legs and louped at a
bonnet, he begged, he lifted his short shagged paw and shook
hands. Then he sniffed at the heap of coins, looked up
inquiringly at Mr. Traill, and, concluding that here was some
property to be guarded, stood by the "siller" as stanchly as a
soldier. It was just pure pleasure to watch him.
Very suddenly the Lord Provost changed his mind. A sacred kirk
was the very best place of all to settle this little dog's
affairs. The offering of these children could not be refused. It
should lie there, below the altar, and be consecrated to some
other blessed work; and he would do now and here what he had
meant to do elsewhere and in a quite different way. He lifted
Bobby to the pulpit so that all might see him, and he spoke so
that all might understand.
"Are ye kennin' what it is to gie the freedom o' the toon to
grand folk?"
"It's--it's when the bonny Queen comes an' ye gie her the keys to
the burgh gates that are no' here ony mair.
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