"What's he?" asked Edward.
"He's a prig; that's what he is."
"What's a prig?"
"Ho! you're a greeney, if you don't know what a prig is. Wait till he snubs you and lords it over you awhile; then I guess you'll know. He'll have a good chance, seeing you're right there at the house all the while. I wouldn't be in your shoes for a penny."
Spite of its making him a great greeney, Edward did not know what a prig was; but, judging from his companion's tone, he decided that it must be something very disagreeable. He went home feeling cross and uncomfortable, wishing that Ray were anybody in the world rather than Mr. Minturn's son, or anywhere else rather than at home. He was beginning to have such a nice time there; they were all so kind to him, and really seemed to like him. It was too bad to have it all spoiled.
"I know what kind of a fellow he is," he muttered to himself; "he's like that Mr. Symonds who comes to the store twice a week or so after kid gloves, and acts as if he thought he was a great deal too good to ask me a decent question. My! I wish he was in Texas."
The dining-room was a blaze of light when he peeped in, soon after the family were gathered waiting for Mr. Minturn. The newcomer sat on the sofa, one arm a-round little Alice, and the other resting gently on his mother's lap. Edward guessed, by his mother's face, that she did not wish he was in Texas. Mr. Minturn came in presently, and Edward stole into the room just behind him; but Alice called him eagerly:
"Edward, Ray has come! Come over here and see him."
"Go ahead," said Mr. Minturn, as Edward stood still, with very red cheeks; and Ray sat up and held out his hand.
"How do you do, Edward? Alice has been making me acquainted with you this afternoon, so you're not a stranger."