‘I think it a piece of great good fortune, sir,’ said Tom. ‘I am exceedingly obliged to you for the offer.’
‘Not to me,’ said Mr Fips. ‘I act upon instructions.’
‘To your friend, sir, then,’ said Tom. ‘To the gentleman with whom I am to engage, and whose confidence I shall endeavour to deserve. When he knows me better, sir, I hope he will not lose his good opinion of me. He will find me punctual and vigilant, and anxious to do what is right. That I think I can answer for, and so,’ looking towards him, ‘can Mr Westlock.’
‘Most assuredly,’ said John.
Mr Fips appeared to have some little difficulty in resuming the conversation. To relieve himself, he took up the wafer-stamp, and began stamping capital F’s all over his legs.
‘The fact is,’ said Mr Fips, ‘that my friend is not, at this present moment, in town.’
Tom’s countenance fell; for he thought this equivalent to telling him that his appearance did not answer; and that Fips must look out for somebody else.
‘When do you think he will be in town, sir?’ he asked.
‘I can’t say; it’s impossible to tell. I really have no idea. But,’ said Fips, taking off a very deep impression of the wafer-stamp upon the calf of his left leg, and looking steadily at Tom, ‘I don’t know that it’s a matter of much consequence.’
Poor Tom inclined his head deferentially, but appeared to doubt that.