conversation hereinafter to be reported.

Ninian Halliburton was a rosy-faced, clean-shaven man, with a habit of
constantly pursing out his lips and half closing his eyes, as if he
were sagely deciding on the advisability of some doubtful bargain. His
companion, Robert Semple, had a similar look of shrewdness, but added
to it his face bore also the imprint of a sly and lurking humour not
unlike that of the master armourer himself. In time bygone he had kept
his terms at the college of Saint Andrews, where you may find on the
list of graduates the name of Robertus Semple, written by the
foundational hand of Bishop Henry Wardlaw himself. And upon his body,
as the Bailie of Dumfries would often feelingly recall, he bore the
memory, if not the marks, of the disciplining of Henry Ogilvy, Master
in Arts--a wholesome custom, too much neglected by the present regents
of the college, as he would add.

"This is an excellent affair for us," said Ninian Halliburton,
standing with his hands folded placidly over his ample stomach, only
occasionally allowing them to wander in order to feel and approve the
pile of the brown velvet out of which the sober gown was constructed.
"A good thing for us, I say, that there are great lords like the Earl
of Douglas to keep up the expense of such days as this."

"It were still better," answered his companion, dryly, "if the great
nobles would pay poor merchants according to their promises, instead
of threatening them with the dule tree if they so much as venture to
ask for their money. Neither you nor I, Bailie, can buy in the
lowlands of Holland without a goodly provision of the broad gold
pieces that are so hard to drag from the nobles of Scotland."