The Brimming Cup

She mounted the stairs heavily, pulling herself along by those spindling

old red balustrades, just like so many old laths, noticing that her

rubber boots left big hunks of mud on the white-painted stairs, but too

miserable to care.

The door to the east-wing garret was open. Aunt Hetty was there, bossing

Agnes, and they were both "dudsing," as Elly called it to herself,

leaning over trunks, disappearing in and out of closets, turning inside

out old bags of truck, sorting over, and, for all Elly could see,

putting the old duds back again, just where they had been before.

Grown-ups did seem to run round in circles, so much of their time!

She sat down wearily on an ugly little old trunk near the door. Aunt

Hetty shut up a drawer in a dresser, turned to Elly, and said, "Mercy,

child, what's the matter? Has the teacher been scolding you?"

"No, Aunt Hetty," said Elly faintly, looking out of the window.

"Anybody sick at your house?" asked Aunt Hetty, coming towards the

little girl.

"No," said Elly, shaking her head.

"Don't you feel well?" asked Aunt Hetty, laying one wrinkled, shaky old

hand on her shoulder.

"No, Aunt Hetty," said Elly, her eyes large and sad.

"Maybe she's hungry," suggested Agnes, in a muffled voice from the

depths of a closet.

"Are you?" asked Aunt Hetty.

"Yes," cried Elly.

Aunt Hetty laughed. "Well, I don't know if there are any cookies in the

house or not," she said, "we've been so busy house-cleaning. Agnes, did

you bake any cookies this morning?"

Elly was struck into stupor at this. Think of not knowing if there

were any cookies in the house!

Agnes appeared, tiny and old and stooped and wrinkled, like her

mistress. She had a big, rolled-up woolen-covered comforter in her arms,

over which she nodded. "Yes, I made some. You told me to make some every

Wednesday," she said. She went on, looking anxiously at Aunt Hetty,

"There ain't any moth-holes in this. Was this the comfortable you meant?

I thought this was the one you told me to leave out of the camphor

chest. I thought you told me . . ."

"You know where to find the cookies, don't you, Elly?" asked Aunt Hetty,

over her shoulder, trotting rapidly like a little dry, wind-blown leaf,

towards Agnes and the comforter.

"Oh yes, Aunt Hetty!" shouted Elly, halfway down the stairs.

Aunt Hetty called after her, "Take all you want . . . three or four. They

won't hurt you. There's no egg in our recipe."