“No,” said Snac. “What about him?” “His lordship's gi'en him a set o' togs,” said the old rustic, “an' he's drunker wi' the joy on 'em than iver I was with ode ale at harvest-time.” “Aha!” cried Snac, scenting a jest. “Wheer is he?” “Why, theer he is!” said the rustic, and turning, Snac beheld Joseph Beaker at that moment shambling round the corner of the graveyard wall, followed closely by the youth of the village. The Earl of Barfield had kept his promise, and had bestowed upon Joseph a laced waistcoat--a waistcoat which had not been worn since the first decade of the century, and was old-fashioned even then. It was of a fine crimson cloth, and had a tarnished line of lace about the edge and around the flaps of the pockets. Over this glorious garment Joseph wore a sky-bine swallow-tail coat of forgotten fashion, and below it a pair of knee-breeches which, being much too long for him, were adjusted midway about his shrunken calves. A pair of hob-nailed bluchers and a battered straw hat gave a somewhat feeble finish to these magnificences. As the poor Joseph aired the splendors of his attire there was a faint and far-away imitation of the Earl of Barfield in his gait, and he paused at times after a fashion his lordship had, and perked his head from side to side as if in casual observation of the general well-being. “Good-morning, Lord Barfield,” cried Snac, as Joseph drew near. “It's a sight for sore eyes to see your lordship a-lookin' so young and lusty.” Joseph beamed at this public crowning of his loftiest hopes, and would have gone by with a mere nod of lordly recognition but the triumph was too much for him and he laughed aloud for joy. “Well, bless my soul!” said Snac, in feigned astonishment, “it's Mister Beaker. Send I may live if I didn't tek him for the Right Honorable th' Earl o' Barfield! Thee'st shake hands with an old friend, Mr. Beaker? That's right. Theer's nothin' I admire so much as to see a man as refuses to be carried away with pride.” Joseph shook hands almost with enthusiasm. “Theer's nothin' o' that sort about me, Mr. Eld,” he replied. “That I'm sure on,” said Snac, with conviction. “But how gay we be to-day, Mr. Beaker.” “It was my lord as gi'en me these,” said Joseph, retiring a pace or two to display his raiment, and gravely turning round in the presence of the little crowd that surrounded him so that each might see the fulness of its beauty. At this moment Reuben Gold came swinging along the road with a green baize bag under his arm. He was on his way to his uncle's house, and, unobserved of Snac, took a place on the causeway to see what might be the reason of this unusual gathering. “Now,” said Snac, “I never thought as Lord Barfield 'ud be so mean as to do things in that half-an'-half manner. I should ha' fancied, if Lord Barfield had took it into his head to set up an extra gentleman in livery, he'd ha' done it thorough.”