"What are ye boune for buying the day, my winsome lady?" said a buirdly vender of groceries; "what are ye buying? Plumedames sixpence the pound--the new herb wise folk ca' tea, and fules ca' poison, only fifty English shillings the pound--oranges, nutmegs, and lemons frae the land o' the idolatrous Portugales--Gascony, Muscadel, and Margaux, the wines o' the neer-do-weel French--aughteen pence the Scots quart--what are ye for buying, madam?" "Or if you lacked a sharp rapier, Sir," cried a bare-armed swordslipper, leaning over his half door, and taking up the chaunt; "a corslet o' Milan that would turn a cannon-ball. I have spurs o' Rippon steel, dirks of Parma, pikes of Culross, blades of Toledo, pistols of Glasgow, and gude Kilmaurs whittles, the best of a'." "O what a Babel it is!" said Lilian. "Or a warm roquelaure to wear in the camp, my handsome gentleman?" cried Lucky Diaper, a brisk and comely haberdasher in a quilted gown, high-heeled shoes and lace-edged coif. "What are ye buying my Lady Lilian? You will be setting up house I warrant, and are come to seek for the plenishing. Walk in, sir--walk in, madam. I have cushions o' velvet for hall-settles and window-seats stuffed with Orkney down--buird-claiths of worsted and silk, servants (or napkins, as the Southrons ca' them) o' Dornick and Flanders' damask, some sewit, and others plain--crammasie codwairs, and sheets just without number. What want ye my bonny leddy, and when does the bridal come off?" "Malediction on her chatter!" muttered Clermistonlee, who lounged at the door. Walter smiled, Lilian blushed and trembled between diffidence and anger; but her reply was interrupted by the entrance of a customer, who, lifting his bonnet respectfully to her, tendered his order to Lucky Diaper, who immediately reddened up with indignation, and eyeing him askance, said sharply, "Set ye up, indeed, wi' a coleur-du-roi coat of three pile taffeta; its like the impudence that makes ye speir before your betters are served. My certie! what is this world coming to when a loon o' a baxter, comes spiering for the like o' that? Awa wi' ye, man, awa! Galloway-white, drab-de-frieze, or buckram conform to the Act o' Apparel are gude enough for one of your degree!" The unfortunate baker was forced to retreat, for the draper of 1688 thought very differently from one of the present day.