‘And now give me a kiss for it,’ he said; and Carrie, her shyness quite cured by the delightfully black aspect of her fingers, gave the salute with great freedom.
‘Wasn’t that most agreeable?’ asked Phil; he alluded not to the kiss, but to the soot. Patty at this moment, seeing some interference necessary, came forward with a curtsey to claim her charge.
‘I fear I have led your little lady into mischief,’ said Phil’s father to her, smiling very pleasantly. Patty murmured incoherent excuses, curtseyed again, and bade Carrie say good-day to the gentleman. As they walked away Carrie heard Phil’s voice—it was singularly clear—echoing along the quiet Square.
‘Caroline, sir.’ And then, in reply to another question—
‘Caroline, sir; I do not know what else.’ It was well for Carrie that she could not overhear what followed—
‘A child of singular beauty. . . . Peter, who is she?’
‘I—I cannot say, sir. I am slightly acquainted with the young woman as looks after her, sir,’ said Peter, and he looked so ashamed of himself, and so uncomfortable, that his master did not question him further, but passed down the steps, laughing as he went.
Patty on the homeward way was very silent. When they reached Jermyn Street she took Carrie straight up-stairs and closed the nursery door. Then she stood in front of the child menacingly.
‘Mind, Miss Caroline, if ever you do say to master or to mistress one word of meeting with this little gentleman, I’ll—I’ll lock you up in a black hole.’
‘Why, Patty?’ began Carrie.