Transcriber's Note:
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation in the originaldocument have been preserved.
The book uses em-dashes as ellipses at the ends of sentences. Thesehave been left spaced as in the original text.
By the Same Author:
Wymps: Fairy Tales. With eight colouredillustrations by Mrs. Percy Dearmer.
At the Relton Arms: A Novel.
The Making of a School-Girl.
THE
MAKING OF A PRIG
BY
EVELYN SHARP
JOHN LANE: THE BODLEY HEAD
NEW YORK AND LONDON
1897
Copyright, 1897,
By John Lane.
All rights reserved.
University Press:
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A.
The Making of a Prig
CHAPTER I
It was supper time at the Rectory, and theRector had not come in. There were twoconflicting elements at the Rectory, the Rector'sdisregard of details and his sister's senseof their importance. There was only one will,however, and that was his sister's. So themeals were always punctual, and the Rectorwas always late; a fact that by its very recurrencewould have long ceased to beimportant, had not Miss Esther loved toaccentuate it by a certain formula of complaintthat varied as little as the offence itself.This evening, however, he was later thanusual; and Miss Esther did not attempt toconceal her impatience as she glanced fromthe old clock in the corner down to the fire-place,where another familiar grievance awaitedher.
"Katharine, how often have I told you notto lie on the rug like a great boy?" she said2querulously, in the tone of one who has notthe courage or the character to be really angry.She added immediately, "I want you to ringthe bell for the soup."
The girl on the floor rolled over lazily, andshut her book with a bang.
"Daddy hasn't come in yet," she said,sitting up on her heels and shaking the hairout of her eyes. A latent spirit of revolt wasin her tone, although she spoke half absently,as if her thoughts were still with her book.Miss Esther tapped her foot on the groundimpatiently.
"It is exactly two minutes to eight," shesaid sharply. "I asked you to ring the bell,Katharine."
The girl walked across the room in a leisurelymanner, and did as she was told witha great assumption of doing as she wished.Then she sat on the arm of the nearest chair,and the rebellious look returned to her face.
"How do you know it is daddy's fault,Aunt Esther? The Stoke road is awfullybad, and it's blowing hard from the north-west.He may have been kept, and coldsoup's beastly. I think it's a shame."
"I really wish," complained Miss Esther,"that you would try and control your expressions,3Katharine. It all comes of your rompingso much with young Morton. Of courseI am a mere cipher in my own house; butsome day your father will be sorry that