Mrs Henry could on occasions make herself peculiarly offensive to her mother-in-law; but it suited her to cultivate Prudence's acquaintance, and so she exercised for that evening a certain tact in fencing with Mrs Morgan that gave no substantial ground for disagreement. She contrived none the less to reveal Edward's mother to his fiancee in an altogether unfavourable light. "Mother is such an autocrat," she remarked once laughingly. "I suppose that is due to the fact that she has never had a daughter." "If I had had a daughter," Mrs Morgan replied, "I would have brought her up to respect authority." "You'll be able to practise on Prudence," Mrs Henry suggested pleasantly, giving the old lady, who was more shrewd than she suspected, an insight into her game. She was trying to prejudice Prudence against her. Mrs Morgan said nothing; but she determined to counterstroke that move. With the laudable desire of getting on to easier ground, Edward Morgan spoke of the coming dance and Prudence's anticipatory pleasure. Mrs Henry discussed it happily. "I love dancing," she confessed to Prudence. "And of course I knew you would. It's one way of giving you a glimpse of the aborigines. They are a dull lot on the whole. And I'm afraid we'll be short of dancing men. I shall have to import a few. I'm glad you approve of the idea; mother, of course, doesn't." "You could scarcely expect dancing to appeal to me at my time of life," Mrs Morgan observed, her short-sighted eyes scrutinising her daughter-in-law's face with unflattering attentiveness. "I confess to surprise that it should still attract you so strongly. But for Prudence it is a different matter. At her age dancing is quite suitable. Since Edward is willing to accompany her, I am sure she will enjoy it." She smiled agreeably at Prudence. "I shall enjoy hearing all about it afterwards." Mrs Henry had not calculated on this neat turning of her weapon of offence, and was temporarily at a disadvantage. But she recovered from her surprise with astonishing quickness. "She will be able to tell you of her many conquests," she said. "It will amuse you to hear of her triumphs." "I pay Prudence the compliment of believing her to be neither silly nor vain," Mrs Morgan returned. "If she made conquests she would not boast of them." "I'm unfortunate," Mrs Henry remarked plaintively. "I am always saying the wrong thing." She glanced at Prudence with a swift upward lift of her eyelid, and added: "I shall have to borrow a leaf from your book of deportment. You don't look as good as they would have me believe; but," and she turned her eyes to where Edward Morgan sat beside his fiancee, and let them rest contemplatively on his solid figure, "I suppose you really are seriously inclined." CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.