"I know," said Fred, as the gypsey with a caper took to her heels. "I know; but Lotty, my love, you have surely forgotten an old friend? My bridesman, Tom Truepenny."
It was Mr. Truepenny. He had come to Brighton upon business; Fred saw him as he alighted from the coach. "He didn't want to break upon us," said Fred: "for you know what a shy, modest fellow Tom is; but I said you'd be delighted to see him."
"Delighted, indeed, Fred," said I.
"Delighted, indeed," stammered Mr. Truepenny, colouring like a girl.
"He has a little business to do, but has promised to join us in the evening," said Fred.
"Oh, certainly, with pleasure—in the evening," said Truepenny.
"You'll not fail, Tom?" cried Fred, holding up his finger.
"Depend on my punctuality," replied Mr. Truepenny. And then—strangely confused as I thought—he bowed to me, and hurried off.
"He's an excellent fellow," said Fred.
"It was very lucky that you met him, Fred," said I.