COMMENDATION--DECISION.

Being deaf, Mrs. Boodels has, as our friend Captain Byrton expresses it,
six to four the best of us. Repartees through an ear-trumpet lose their
sting. And then you can't in politeness, and in all respect, sting an
old lady of seventy-five.

The other evening Boodels says, blushingly, that some of his friends
tell him that he is just the man to write a comedy.

This is repeated to his grandmother through the trumpet.

"Yes," she says, quietly; "I've heard John's friends say that he can
write a comedy, and I've heard 'em add that _they hope he won't_."

* *
*

Since this we've not heard any more of Boodels' comedy. I rather think
that he's got it all ready to read to us.

Next morning after this observation of Mrs. Boodels, her grandson comes
with Milburd to my room.

Boodels says he thinks his grandmother's a little too old for the work.

I reply that we all like her, and that she's a charming old lady.

[Illustration: "OUT FOR THE DAY."]

Milburd agrees.

Boodels says, rather testily, of course she's all _that_, but we want
some one more sprightly, and having to repeat everything to her through
the trumpet is tedious.

We own that we should not have liked to have been the first to hazard
this objection, but as he _has_ made it himself, why we perhaps on the
whole agree with him rather than not.

Boodels is satisfied with this craftily qualified assent.

"The old girl," he says,--(odd, how she's suddenly come down in his
estimation--down to "old girl")--"has told me this morning that the late
hours are beginning to tell upon her, and she wants to dine earlier!"

Ah! there we _are_ touched nearly. Alter the dinner hour! Never!

"She's accustomed at home, you see," continues her grandfilial
relation, "to dine at one o'clock or thereabouts, and tea at six."

Nursery hours! we couldn't think of it.

"Of course not," returns Boodels; "so I said to her .... She was rather
huffed at the idea of my calling them 'nursery hours,' and wanted to
know if I meant that she was in her second childhood. In fact," says
Boodels, blurting it all out, "there's been a row, and the old girl
threatened to take away the Chertons."

"Pooh!" from both of us.

"But if she goes--" commences Boodels, who has a strict and severe sense
of propriety.

"If she does," cries Milburd, "look here! I've got it." He su