Nearly a year’s experience, however, had taught me how best to manage my mother-in-law.  When she indulged herself in one of her frequent “tantrums” I adopted a carefully courteous, scrupulously formal attitude toward her, and dismissed her from my mind.  Thus I saved myself much worry and irritation, and deprived her of the pleasure of a quarrel, something which I knew she would be glad to bring on sometimes for the sheer pleasure of combat.

Her question was so sudden, her cordiality so surprising, that I could frame no answer.  Instead I looked helplessly at Dicky.  To tell the truth, I rather distrusted this sudden amiability.  From past experiences, I knew that when Mother Graham made a sudden change from sulkiness to cheerfulness, she had some scheme under way.

Dicky’s answer was prompt.

“That’s entirely up to Madge, mother,” he said, and smiled at me.

Although his mother tried hard she could not keep the acerbity out of her tones as she turned to me.  She always resented any deference of Dicky to my opinion.

“Well, as Richard has no opinion of his own, what are your plans, Margaret?”

“Why, I have made none so far,” I stammered, wishing with all my heart that I had made some definite plan for Dicky’s birthday.  I could see from my mother-in-law’s manner that she had some cherished scheme in mind, and my prophetic soul told me that it would be something which I would not particularly like.

“Good,” she returned.  “Then I shall not be interfering with any plan of yours.  I have already written to Elizabeth asking them to come out here for a week’s visit.  This is an awful shack, of course, but it is the country, and the children will enjoy the woods and brooks and fields, even if it is cold.”

Dicky turned to her abruptly, his brow stormy, his eyes flashing.

“Mother, do you mean to say that you have already written to Elizabeth without first consulting Madge as to whether it would be convenient?”

I trod heavily on his toes under the table in the vain hope that I would be able to stop him from saying the words which I knew would inflame his mother’s temper.  Failing in that, I hastened to throw a sentence or two of my own into the breach in the desire to prevent further hostilities.

“Dicky, stop talking nonsense!” I said sharply.  “I am sure Mother Graham,” turning to my mother-in-law who sat regarding her son with the most traditional of “stony stares,” “we shall be delighted to have your daughter and her family.  You must tell me how many there are so we can arrange for beds and plenty of bedding.  This is a rather draughty house, you know.”

“I am better aware of that than you are,” she returned, ungraciously making no response to my proffer of hospitality.  Then she turned her attention to Dicky.

“Richard,” she said sternly, “I have never been compelled to consult anybody yet, before inviting guests to my home, whether it be a permanent or a temporary one.  I am too old to begin.  I do not notice that you or Margaret take the trouble to consult me before inviting your friends here.”