They knew that he was wearing out the clothes that his extravagant uncle had left behind him at his death, twenty years ago.

They had seen three velvet waistcoats worn out, and one of brocade; there were sixteen left, as any woman in the village could tell you.

As for the nankeen trousers, some people said there were ten dozen of them in the great oak chest, but that might be an exaggeration.
Walking just behind this pleasant old person, with feet that tried to go sedately, and not betray by hopping and skippings the joy that was in them, came the boy John; brought along in case there should be a parcel to carry.

Mr.Scraper had brought, too, his supple bamboo cane, in case of need; it was a cane of singular parts, and had a way that was all its own of curling about the legs and coming up "rap" against the tender part of the calf.

The boy John was intimately acquainted with the cane; therefore, when his legs refused to go steadily, but danced in spite of him, he had dropped behind Mr.Endymion, and kept well out of reach of the searching snake of polished cane.
The Skipper greeted the new-comer with his loftiest courtesy, which was quite thrown away on the old gentleman.
"Hey! hey!" said Mr.Scraper, nodding his head, and fumbling in his waistcoat pocket, "got some shells, I hear! Got some shells, eh?
Nothing but rubbish, I'll swear; nothing but rubbish.