and a good enough beaver hat, both without lace. These he threw on anyway, and taking a staff from the cupboard, locked all up again, and was for setting out, when a thought arrested him.
“I cannae leave you by yoursel’ in the house,” said he. “I’ll have to lock you out.”
The blood came to my face. “If you lock me out,” I said, “it’ll be the last you’ll see of me in friendship.”
He turned very pale, and sucked his mouth in. “This is no the way,” he said, looking wickedly at a corner of the floor—this is no the way to win my favour, David.”
“Sir,” says I, “with a proper reverence for your age and our common blood, I do not value your favour at a boddle’s purchase. I was brought up to have a good conceit of myself; and if you were all the uncle, and all the family, I had in the world ten times over, I wouldn’t buy your liking at such prices.”
Uncle Ebenezer went and looked out of the window for a while. I could see him all trembling and twitching, like a man with palsy. But when he turned round, he had a smile upon his face.
“Well, well,” said he, “we must bear and forbear. I’ll no go; that’s all that’s to be said of it.”
“Uncle Ebenezer,” I said, “I can make nothing out of this. You use me like a thief; you hate to have me in this house; you let me see it, every word and every minute: it’s not possible that you can like me; and as for me, I’ve spoken to you as I never
