To be candid, perhaps Ella's grandmother was a little too inquisitive
to know what was going on around her. But this was one of the
infirmities of old age which were slowly stealing upon her, and which
the young should regard with pity and forbearance, but never with a
censorious spirit.

Ella was really a good-hearted girl, when her generous feelings were
aroused. From that day, she treated her grandmother with marked
kindness and respect; and her unfortunate attempt to rebuke the
venerable woman was never alluded to again.

Among the articles which Mrs. Lee brought from the country, for the
children, was a small bag of corn for popping. One evening, George
happened to think of this corn, which none of them had yet tried; and
partly filling one of his pockets from the bag, he slipped quietly into
the kitchen, and commenced popping it by Bridget's fire. There was no
person in the kitchen but himself, and putting a handfull of corn in
the wire popper, it soon began to snap and jump about, the hard, yellow
kernels bursting forth into light and beautiful milk-white balls. But
by-and-bye the savory odor of the corn found its way up stairs, and
Ella and Ralph ran down to get their share of the treat. George had
put the corn upon the table to cool, as fast as it was popped; but when
he heard footsteps approaching, he scrambled it into his pocket as
quick as possible.

"Halloo, popped corn! Give me some, Georgie, won't you?" said Ralph.

"And me, too," added Ella.