‘See, Patty,’ she whispered; ‘there is a boy who must be nearly my own age.’
Patty was not absent-minded now. She seemed to have suddenly wakened up; and giving Carrie that curious dragging shake which seems an hereditary action in the nurse-maid class, she turned her head pointedly in the opposite direction from the approaching figures, and hurried Carrie along the Square at a great pace.
‘You should think shame, Miss Carrie, to be a-noticin’ of strangers in the streets,’ she said.
They passed the boy and the tall footman as she spoke, and turned the corner of the Square. A moment later Carrie heard a voice behind them address Patty, and turning round she beheld the tall footman walking alongside.
‘Lor’, Mr. Peter,’ exclaimed Patty, all affability and surprise. Then she shoved Carrie before her, and the footman shoved his charge before him, and they turned back into the Square again, apparently by mutual consent.
The children looked at each other dumbly for a moment.
‘What’s your name?’ then says Carrie, taking the initiative.
‘Philip-William-Richard-Frederick-Sundon-Meadowes.’
‘Oh, that’s far too long; I can never say that.’
‘Well, Phil they call me.’