Sebastian laughed. ‘Are you going to the stake, Carrie?’ he said.
‘No, not me,’ said Carrie, with some congratulation in her tones.
One day, some three weeks after this, Patty said mysteriously to Carrie that they were going out that afternoon to pay a visit. ‘We are to see Master Phil,’ she said, when they were in the street; and Carrie jumped for joy.
‘O Patty, I am so glad! Is he better? Where are we to see him?’ she cried.
‘In his bed, miss, but mind if ever you do say a word——’
Carrie was quite impatient.
‘You are most strange about Phil, Patty,’ she said; ‘I am sure he is nicer far to speak about than any one else I know.’
‘Oh, well, Miss Carrie, we’ll be going home then; we’ll say no more about the visit,’ said Patty, making a feint of turning back.
‘No, no, ’tis all right, I shall say nothing,’ said Carrie. On the steps of the great house, which Carrie knew quite well now, she saw the familiar figure of Mr. Peter, evidently waiting for them.
‘I’ll trouble you to enter by the back way,’ he said, as he greeted them, and with that he conducted his visitors to the kitchen regions. Everything here was bustle and hurry, for up-stairs dinner was being served. They met a French cook in a white paper cap dashing out of the kitchen with a saucepan in his hand, and ran against another man-servant, as tall as Mr. Peter, who carried a silver dish. Then, leaving these regions, they began to climb long, long stairs, and came out at last on to a polished oak corridor hung with pictures.