I will indulge Bucklaw with a sight of this chase. It is selfish to sacrifice my guest's pleasure to my own."
"Sacrifice?" echoed Caleb, in a tone which seemed to imply the total absurdity of his master making the least concession in deference to any one—"Sacrifice indeed?—but I crave your honour's pardon—and whilk doublet is it your pleasure to wear?"
"Any one you will, Caleb—my wardrobe, I suppose, is not very extensive."
"Not extensive?" echoed his assistant; "when there is the grey and silver that your lordship bestowed on Hew Hildebrand, your out-rider—and the French velvet that went with my lord your father (be gracious to him)—my lord your father's auld wardrope to the puir friends of the family, and the drap-de-berry"—
"Which I gave to you, Caleb, and which, I suppose, is the only dress we have any chance to come at, except that I wore yes-