“I could no’ tak’ responsibeelity.  The dog is no’ with me more than a couple of hours out of the twenty-four.  I understand that most of his time is spent in the kirkyard, in weel-behaving, usefu’ ways, but I could no’ be sure.”

“But why have you fed him for so many years?  Was his master a friend?”

“Nae, just a customer, your Honor; a simple auld shepherd who ate his market-day dinner in my place.  He aye had the bit dog with him, and I was the last man to see the auld body before he went awa’ to his meeserable death in a Cowgate wynd.  Bobby came to me, near starved, to be fed, two days after his master’s burial.  I was tak’n by the wee Highlander’s leal spirit.”

And that was all the landlord would say.  He had no mind to wear his heart upon his sleeve for this idle crowd to gape at.

After a moment the magistrate spoke warmly:  “It appears, then, that the payment of the license could not be accepted from you.  Your humanity is commendable, Mr. Traill, but technically you are in fault.  The minimum fine should be imposed and remitted.”

At this utterly unlooked-for conclusion Mr. Traill seemed to gather his lean shoulders together for a spring, and his gray eyes narrowed to blades.

“With due respect to your Honor, I must tak’ an appeal against sic a deceesion, to the Lord Provost and a’ the magistrates, and then to the Court of Sessions.”

“You would get scant attention, Mr. Traill.  The higher judiciary have more important business than reviewing dog cases.  You would be laughed out of court.”

The dry tone stung him to instant retort.  “And in gude company I’d be.  Fifty years syne Lord Erskine was laughed down in Parliament for proposing to give legal protection to dumb animals.  But we’re getting a bit more ceevilized.”

“Tut, tut, Mr. Traill, you are making far too much of a small matter.”

“It’s no’ a sma’ matter to be entered in the records of the Burgh court as a petty law-breaker.  And if I continued to feed the dog I would be in contempt of court.”

The magistrate was beginning to feel badgered.  “The fine carries the interdiction with it, Mr. Traill, if you are asking for information.”

“It was no’ for information, but just to mak’ plain my ain line of conduct.  I’m no’ intending to abandon the dog.  I am commended here for my humanity, but the bit dog I must let starve for a technicality.”  Instantly, as the magistrate half rose from the bench, the landlord saw that he had gone too far, and put the court on the defensive.  In an easy, conversational tone, as if unaware of the point he had scored, he asked if he might address his accuser on a personal matter.  “We knew each other weel as laddies.  Davie, when you’re in my neeborhood again on a wet day, come in and dry yoursel’ by my fire and tak’ another cup o’ kindness for auld lang syne.  You’ll be all the better man for a lesson in morals the bit dog can give you:  no’ to bite the hand that feeds you.”