“OUT FOR THE DAY.”
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.
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.”