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Fisher, Dorothy Canfield, 1879-1958

"The Brimming Cup"

How she would carry on, with anybody that came
along! She hadn't never settled down, not a bit really, for all she had
been married and was a widow and was old. It wa'n't nice to be so lively
as that, at her age. But she _wasn't_ nice, Mother Powers wasn't, for
all she was good to Addie and Ralph and little 'Gene. Nelly liked nice
people, she thought, as she went back to shake the rag rugs out of the
window; refined ladies like Mrs. Bayweather, the minister's wife. That
was the way _she_ wanted to be, and have little Addie grow up. She
lingered at the window a moment looking up at the thick dark branches of
the big pine. How horrid it was to have that great tree so close to the
house! It shaded the bedroom so that there was a musty smell no matter
how much it was aired. And the needles dropped down so messy too, and
spoiled the grass.
Frank's voice came up the stairs, bold, laughing, "Nelly, Nelly, come
down here a minute. I want to ask you something!"
"I can't," she called back. Didn't he have the nerve!
"Why can't you?" the skeptical question came from halfway up the stairs.
"I saw you on the side-porch, just as I came up."
Nelly cast about for an excuse. Of course you had to have some _reason_
for saying you couldn't see a neighbor who came in. She had an
inspiration.


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