Now so pleasant and easy is it to tread the primrose path, that after the first difficulty of being silent about her new playmate was got over, Carrie never thought about the matter, and it became quite a daily thing that the children met and walked together while Patty and Peter sauntered in the rear, very much occupied with each other. Phil was a curious boy, of great strength of character: a hot-tempered, domineering child, horribly clever for his age, very imaginative, and withal sadly spoilt. Peter, it is true, held his young master in very scant reverence, and would speak to him at times with great sharpness, but his was the only control that was ever exercised over the child. Carrie, who had no temper at all, was frightened almost out of her little judgment the first time she saw Phil in one of his worst fits of anger. They were walking in St. James’ Park, and Phil began to throw stones into the water at the water-fowl, spluttering his fine new velvet suit at each splash. ‘Mustn’t be after that game, Master Phil,’ said Peter, and Phil continued his stone-throwing with aristocratic indifference. ‘Did you hear, Master Phil? You’re spoilin’ them new clothes,’ said Peter, and approaching to where Phil stood he forcibly removed the stones from his hands. Phil’s face was convulsed in a moment with horrid passion. He fell on his knees on the walk and scraped up the mud and gravel in handfuls, pelting the stately Mr. Peter’s calves in futile anger. ‘I shall do as I please, Peter; you are a servant, and you shall not stop me throwing stones—there—and there—and there.’ He emphasised each word with another handful of gravel. Carrie drew away to Patty’s side, shocked into silence. Patty said ‘Lor’,’ and Peter smiled. ‘’E’s a little imp,’ he said; ‘there’s but the one way to manage him,’ And with that he lifted Phil suddenly to his feet, shook him sharply, and boxed his ears till the child began to cry. ‘There, that’ll settle you,’ he said. He pushed poor Phil before him along the path, and stooped down to brush from his immaculate stockinged legs the marks of this ignoble conflict. Carrie, being admonished by Patty to rejoin her companion, advanced rather timidly towards him. Phil was quite white now, and shook all over. ‘I think I shall go home now, Peter,’ he said in a very humble little voice; ‘I feel most terribly tired—will you take me home?’ ‘Yes, Master Phil,’ said Peter, quite pleasantly, and with adieux to Carrie and Patty, they walked off together up the Mall. ‘Lor’! what a life Mr. Peter do lead with the boy!’ said Patty occultly. Carrie was silent, and watched the retreating forms of the little Phil and the mighty Peter till they became merged in the throng.