MRS. BOODELS--BOODELS--HIS GRANDMOTHER'S OBSERVATION--HER FATE
SEALED--THE COMEDY--HER DEPOSITION--NEW PROPOSAL--AWKWARD--MILBURD'S
RELATION--INVITATION--THE DINNER HOUR--RECOMMENDATION--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 subdues his
excitement, and proceeds, "I've a letter from the Regniatis."
"Regniatis! let's see," considers Boodels. "They're relations of yours?"
"Yes. Count Regniati, an Italian, and the jolliest fellow in the
world"--he adds this as a set-off against his nationality, which may, he
evidently thinks, suggest secret societies, daggers, carbonari--"married
my Aunt. The Chertons are also some sort of distant connection. At least
they often stay with Madame. So that _she'll_ be their chaperone. I'm
sure you'll like 'em immensely," he adds, "and the Signor, my uncle, is
first-rate." We decide. Abdication of Mrs. Boodels and enthronement of
the Regniati dynasty.
"Good," exclaims Boodels. "Then I'll tell my grandmother to-day. I don't
want to do anything unpleasant"--we agree with him, such a feeling does
him honour--"and I'll take the opportunity of her wanting to go up to an
aurist to _congedier_ her. After all the old lady will be much happier
away, and I'll tell her that we shall be so glad to see her whenever she
likes to turn up again, that is, if the Hall is still going on."
We admit that nothing could be more courtly, more diplomatic than this.
Milburd is to invite his Uncle and Aunt. And that's settled.