--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Carroll, Elsie C. collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 32 number: 11 published: 1929-09 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: "Elsie C. Carroll, “The Brimming Cup,” *Improvement Era* 32, no. 11 (September 1929): 939–945." source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera32011unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera32011unse start_page: 939 end_page: 945 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1929-09) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera32011unse publication_year: 1929 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1929, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # The Brimming Cup The Brimming Cup By Elsie C. Carroll "No. really. Clara. I ought not to sit down. I just ran over a minute while the girls are finishing up the dishes. I wanted you to have some of this fudge pudding I got a recipe for while I was gone, and I saw so little of you last night that it was not pos- sible to tell you how much I appre- ciate your kind of looking after the family while I was away." Jen Sid- ney set the dish of pudding on her neighbor's kitchen table and took the rocker Clara Burke brought in from the other room. "I was glad to do what little I could. Jen. but it really wasn't much." "Oh. but it was. Rvth has been telling me how you came right over and took care of Philip when he had the croup and they were all so fright- ened, and how you helped with the mending, and were always bringing in a dish of something to helo out with the meals. It's something to be mightv thankful for to have a neigh- bor like you. Clara: especiallv when one kind of Ices one's head like I did and goes off on a foolish tangent, neg- lecting her family." "My goodness. Jen. whatever makes you feel like that. T think it was wonderful for you to have such a trip, and no one deserved it more than you did." "You don't know what you're talk- ing about. Clara, hot I really am glad I went, for I learn»d a lesson that every hard-workin? mother of a big family ought to learn before it is too late to profit by it." "Why. whatever do you mean, Jen? Did something happen?" "I believe I will stay long enough to tell you about it. Clara. Dick has gone to the store with Nancy Wat- kins. There's never a Sunday passes that she doesn't come for him because she has company or has forgotten something like baking powders or vanilla when she was shopping the day before. I don't suppose he'll be back for half an hour; Nancy won't know what brand of this or that she had better try and she'll have to tell him all about Lucy's new son-in-law. And besides. Clara, my story maybe will help you to see things like a woman ought to be able to see them." "Well, I'm right hungry for a visit. I really didn't know how much neigh- bors meant until you were gone and I couldn't visit over the fence every day. Do tell me all about your trip; it must have been grand." Clara drew her own chair nearer to her friend. "Not in the way you think. Do you know, Clara, ever since I left Mae's last Thursday there's been a kind of proverb, or saying, fussing around in my mind trying to find a way to express itself: but somehow the right words wouldn't come until this morning when I was measuring the orange juice for the pudding sauce. When I saw that golden juice almost ready to run over the sides of the cup. Mae's own words came back to me with such force I knew they expressed what I was feeling inside — 'The Brimming Cup.' "You and Mrs. Hamilton used to be chums when you were girls, didn't you?" Clara asked, to recall her neigh- bor from the train of thought into which she had suddenly fallen. "Yes," Jen answered, throwing off her abstraction. "And I hadn't seen Mae for fifteen years when she came here to Granger last month. We grew up together and used to sing duets from the time we were in Miss Fack- erell's chart class. I remember we drew 942 IMPROVEMENT ERA Sept., 1929 cuts to see who was to have the part of Snow White in our first school operetta, and all through the grades and high school we sang together at every entertainment of importance." "I remember hearing my cousin Molly talk about your singing when she'd come to Dalby to visit us." "Then when Mae's Aunt Nellie from up in Wyoming decided to send her to Boston to have her voice trained, everybody began asking father and mother why they didn't send me, too. Some folks, like old Uncle Hank Daniels, even went so far as to say that my voice was better than Mae's. Father and mother took the suggestion seriously, and after spending a few days and nights figuring, told me I could go with Mae if I wanted to." "Oh, — and — you — you didn't take a chance like that?" "At first I was thrilled with the thought and began to make prepara- tions to go. Then Dick came over from Dalton where he'd been working all summer in Mr. Thompson's dry- goods store, and well — I don't know just how it happened, but we de- cided to get married that fall." Again Jen fell into deep thought, her neigh- bor studying her curiously. "It must have seemed good to see her — and a little strange," suggested Clara. "Yes. it did. It was Monday and wash-day when Dick told me, as he came in for lunch, that Mae was in town. Lew Thorne had walked up to the store with Mae's brother-in-law. When the children came in from school a few minutes later they were all excited. Katie Lawrence had told them that her aunt from the East had come to visit them in the biggest, shiniest car that had ever been in Granger. And do you know, Clara, that suddenly the wall paper on our kitchen seemed unbearably dingy and I felt tired and discouraged all over. Then when Junior looked over the table and said, 'Gosh, beans again?' I silently echoed his disgust. I was sick of baked beans and rice-pudding every wash-day, too; and of smoky walls and sagging doors and faded rugs and second-hand chairs; and of perpetual, toy-littered porches and walks. The thought of Mae in a big. shiny car made me tired of life as I knew it with its work and hum-drum sameness — e t e r n a 1 scrubbing and scrimping." "I know just how you must have felt. I feel that way lots of times." "Well, when I went back to the washing after dinner, I was thinking of the brilliant success Mae had made. She had not only done well in music, but had married a railroad official or something of the sort. At any rate, her sister Dora had reported when she came back from a visit with Mae, that her home had fifteen rooms and three baths and a greenhouse, and that she had a French maid and a chauffeur. "I had never considered myself an envious person, but as I bent over the wash-tub that afternoon, I tell you. Clara, I was thinking pretty bitterly how the good things of life are mighty unevenly divided. "I wondered how long Mae would be in town and if she would conde- scend to call on her old friends. And right while I was thinking about it I thought I heard someone at the front door. I straightened up and listened, for I knew it would be just my luck for someone to come; I hadn't even cleared the lunch table. "Well, I decided that the noise I had heard must have been from the sand-pile where the twins were play- ing and bent back over the scrubbing board, when all at once I saw some- one pass the kitchen window, someone in a bright-blue suit and a flame- colored scarf. A horrible premonition flashed to my mind and panic seized me. Why hadn't I at least cleared up that table, I asked myself. And the rest of the house was a sight, too — not a bed made, and the doors all open, and blocks and toys strewn all over the living-room floor. Sept.. 1929 THE BRIMMING CUP 943 "I brushed back straggles of damp hair and tore off my dirty apron as I heard a tap at the door and a voice I knew at once was Mae's calling 'Jen, are you home?' — Just like she used to. "I felt sick all over as I opened the door. There sure enough was Mae — prettier than she had been fifteen years ago, and almost as young looking. And do you know she seemed as tickled to see me as I was embarrassed to see her. "She said she couldn't wait any longer to come and see me and that it seemed ages since we used to sing to- gether and go to Hailey's for ice cream with Dick and Jack Henrie." "And she was as sociable as ever?" asked Clara, interestedly. "It surprised me too, Clara, for as close as we'd been I expected her to be too stuck-up to act as if there was no difference between us now. Well, some- how I managed to lead her to the liv- ing-room, picking up caps and balls and marbles as we went, and trying to straighten chairs and rugs. "As she sat down on our faded old settee she kept saying how good it seemed to see me. I tried to hitch the over-stuffed rocker over the spot on the carpet where Junior had spilled the ink, as she was asking me to tell her all about myself and Dick and the kiddies. Dora had told her we had six children and that one of them was named for her. "Well, we had scarcely got seated when the twins came trailing in, dirtier and more untidy than usual on account of wash-day. Marian had on an outgrown apron of Ruth's and was clutching a squirming kitten; Marcus with a big hole in one leg of his rompers, and with a broken supporter, was dragging a battered toy wheel- barrow full of sand, dribbling the sand along the floor as he walked. "Clara, I don't believe I was ever guilty of being ashamed of those happy, healthy babies before. They had seen Mae as she had passed along the side of the house, and their curiosity had brought them in. They stood staring at her when she spoke to them, and sidled a little nearer to me, Marian putting her thumb in her mouth as she always does when she is bothered. "Mae exclaimed about what a pic- ture of health they were, but I was sure she was only trying to be polite. As I was telling the twins to run out and play, I could see Mae's eyes taking in all the shabbiness and ugliness of our home. "When we were alone she asked me however I managed with four children besides the babies. She said it was no wonder I looked thin and tired. Then she came right over by me and took my hands like she used to when we were girls, and said she had come to make me promise to go home with her on a visit when she came back from Dalby in a few days. "I started to tell her how impossible such a thing would be, but she cut me short. She said I'd stayed here and drudged for fifteen years and that I certainly needed a rest and that she knew the family could get along with- out me for a month for she had just been to the store and talked it over with Dick and he had said he'd have his sister Grace come and help out with the children. As she went on with her arguments I could feel myself being swept off my feet just as I used to be when Mae planned things for me to do. She always had a way of get- ting what she wanted. "I knew it was too wild a thing even to dream of, but she'd thought of every obstacle I could bring up, and told me how lonely she was with her husband away for several months in Europe and how really pleasant she would make the visit for me, until the first thing I knew I was saying that I'd love to go and was promising that I really would think about it. "When the children came in from school a few minutes after she had left they wanted to know all about the 944 IMPROVEMENT ERA Sept.. 1929 beautiful lady they had met who had told them she would send them a love- ly surprise if they would be good while I was visiting her. They were all excited about it, and I'll declare if I wasn't getting excited myself. Our house seemed so small and hateful and ugly after Mae had been there. I was ashamed of that feeling, but it kept growing, and when Dick came home all enthused over the trip, I dropped my last bit of resistance and let my- self be thrilled over the prospect of getting away. "Dick kept saying what a wonderful trip it would be, and that I certainly deserved it, and he was sorry I couldn't have more things like that. But he said he guessed we had some things Mae might envy, and I remember how I stared at him and wondered what. "The washing was out of the way by that time and the house as tidy as a child-filled house ever is. The children had picked up the things from the yard and the porch, and Dick had brought smoked salmon and bananas home for supper. Under or- dinary circumstances I would have been contented and happy. But I couldn't help noticing how awkward- ly Philip handled his fork — and he nearly nine; and there was dirt back of Junior's ears and Mae's hair didn't have the sheen it might have with more careful brushings. The twins seemed unusually boisterous and even Dick irritated me when he reached for the butter instead of asking to have it passed. I thought it certainly would seem good to get away from the ugly, scrimping, hard life I had chosen for myself, and see for once the kind of life I might have had. "I guess you remember the next few days, Clara, my mad rush to get ready for my trip." "I should say I do, and I surely envied you — it seemed so grand." "Well, I could hardly realize that I really was going until 1 found my- self standing by Mae's big, shiny car dressed in the new suit Dick had in- sisted on my buying, with the money he was saving for a cash register, and telling the family good-bye. And do you know, Clara, guilty as I feel now to confess it, I had a sort of elated feeling that morning that maybe I would never come back? I had found myself vaguely arguing with myself that I had given fifteen years of drudgery to my family, and that may- be my talent had not been dormant too long to be cultivated even now. "Mechanically I kissed the children and was not even moved when Junior wondered if he could really have his birthday if I wasn't there to make his cake. Dick had arranged to go to the store an hour later in the morning so he could help see that things went right and I wouldn't have to worry. Just before I got into the car he took me in his arms and held me close. He whispered that he was mighty glad I was going to have this rest, and he called me a pet name he used to call me before we were married, and there was the same huskiness in his voice there had been the night we thought Philip was dying with the croup, and he told me the house and the town would be empty with me away, but that they'd get along fine and I must have a good time and not worry a minute. I was ashamed even at the time that I was conscious of the fact that he hadn't shaved and that his tie was crooked. "And then we were off. "I turned back once and my last glimpse was of Dick, a twin on each shoulder, and the other four children — all waving frantically." Jen paused so long, that her friend finally broke the silence. "I imagine the trip was wonder- ful, in a car like that." "Yes, it was. During the three days' journey I relaxed and threw off as completely as possible all thought of home. I was having a wonderful dream, and it seemed to me that I would almost rather die than be awak- ened from it. Mae petted me and did Sept.. 1919 THE BRIMMING CUP 945 a thousand little things for my com- fort and pleasure. Time and again I thought of what Dick had said about our having a lot of things he guessed Mae would envy. I wondered how a man could be so blind. "Clara, Mae's home — well it's simply grand. Nothing Dora had told us about it was exaggerated a bit. Why, my room was just like the grand rooms we see in the movies. The car- pets were so soft that at first I wanted to get up in the night and walk on them; and there were lovely pictures and tapestries and beautifully polished furniture and long mirrors, and every day fresh flowers. Well, I never could have imagined it all. And to think that Mae and I had been chums! "Mae dressed me up in lovely clothes and took me to concerts and operas and recitals — some of them she took part in herself — and introduced me to her fine friends. At first I felt timid and awkward, but soon I was just plainly thrilled with it all. "When my thoughts would straggle back here to Granger, I would tell my- self that this was my vacation — maybe the one big event in my whole life and I wasn't going to spoil it with wondering whether I was doing my duty. "After the first wonderful week, I began to notice that the big house sometimes seemed dreadfully still and empty. I would find myself waking suddenly in the night, with my hand reaching out to see if the twins were covered, or snuggling over to Dick's side of the bed — only to find that I was alone. The places Mae took me didn't seem so interesting as they had at first and I found myself criticising to myself the things Mae's friends talked about. What did it matter who won at the Kenton bridge party, or how many courses Mrs. Lawhorne served at the luncheon for Lady Dev- enport, or what kind of dress Kath- erine Hepplewhite was going to wear at her coming out party? Instead of drinking in such nonsense as I had at first, I found my mind wandering back here — wondering if Grace was in- sisting on the twins drinking their milk, or if Junior's coveralls were be- ing mended when he tore them, and if Dick was getting his bowl of hot milk and toast the nights he had to stay late at the store. I thought, too, of Junior's birthday — and the cake I wouldn't be there to make — It hurt! "All the time Mae went on plan- ning things we were to do, and I didn't have courage to tell her I was homesick and wanted to go back to Granger. She thought I was going to stay a month — maybe longer. "And then one terrible night I woke up in cold horror. I knew it had only been a dream and that I was foolish to tremble so, but I couldn't get rid of that picture of Philip being carried, with his leg all mangled, from Slide Hill. I lay there for a moment motionless. Clara. I can't tell you how I hated that big, still house with its silk draperies and soft carpets. I felt that I would have to scream in my loneliness and longing for my dingy little home. "At last I got out of bed. I thought I would steal down stairs to the living room and read one of the new mag- azines I had glanced through earlier in the evening. I knew I must do some- thing to get rid of that terrible dream. And then tomorrow, I told myself, on the very earliest train I was going home! I promised God that if he would only keep my loved ones all safe until I got home, I'd make it up to them and to him for the thing I had done. "I was going cautiously down the hall so I would not wake Mae or the servants, when I was stopped by the sound of sobbing which I was sure was coming from Mae's room. I stood still wondering what it could mean. I didn't know whether to go in or not. I remembered, then, that Mae had been unusually quiet all afternoon and even- ing: in fact ever since two men had called and had talked with her early 946 IMPROVEMENT ERA Sept., 1929 in the afternoon. At first I thought they had brought news of some finan- cial loss. But the sobs didn't indicate that kind of trouble. They were coming from a real heart-break. "At last I knocked on the door, and went in. Mae, dressed in a beauti- ful negligee, was sitting on a low stool before a big window. The moonlight was the only light in the room. I went to her and tried to soothe her as I would my own Mae or the twins. "She didn't say anything for a little while, but at last the crying gradually wore itself out and she began to talk. As long as I live, Clara, I'll never for- get that night. Why, what she told me was just like a chapter in a novel. Poor, poor Mae! "And to think I had been envying her. Well, it was right then and there I got my lesson. 'Jen,' she said, 'you have thought I have everything to make me happy. Because I have money and a fine home and influential friends, you have thought my cup of life was filled to the brim, while you had only the dregs. But, oh, Jen, it isn't so! It is I who am drinking the dregs. It is you who have the brimming cup!' "And all at once I knew that she was speaking the truth, and I knew that Dick had been right when he said he guessed we had things Mae could envy. "Well, Clara, she told me of her marriage. She said she supposed I had heard what a lucky match she had made; but she confessed that she had married Robert Hamilton because he had plenty of money and because he had friends among the kind of people she wanted to know. She confessed that now he had grown tired of her and that the two men who had been there that afternoon were lawyers who had come to see if she would give her husband a divorce so he could marry another woman with whom he was infatuated. "Clara, I even forgot how home- sick I was as I listened to her — I felt so sorry for her. Imagine me feeling sorry for Mae!" "Was it a shock to her — finding out about her husband?" "No, she had known for a year what was coming, and she had tried to make herself believe that she didn't care. She even confessed that she came back here to Granger to see me in my poverty because she thought it would be a consolation to her to know that at least she had something better than that. But she said she didn't get the consolation she was looking for. My life, she told me, showed her what she had missed. It showed her how shal- low a career is compared to the life a woman ought to live. "Clara, I wish you could have heard some of the things she said, 'Jen,' she asked me, 'what have I got that is worth one of your lovely children?' And I didn't have a thing to answer her. "Then she told me that she had wanted children, and had always thought that when she had made her name she would settle down and rear a family. But her husband had laughed at her. "And do you know, Clara, sorry as I was for her, I couldn't say one word of comfort. I was overflowing with gratitude for my own blessings, and felt so sorry for her! She told me that she had known the day she came to see me that I was envying her the mere dry bones of life, while she was envying me the love and sacrifices that make up real living. "And then I told her I wanted to come home. She didn't try to per- suade me to stay, but she refused to come with me as I begged her to do. She said it was too late for her to find happiness my way; that she had burned her bridges behind her and could not go back; that she would just have to make the best of things as they were. But I did hate to leave her — alone in that big, empty house, when I came away the next morning. "Clara, when I got off the train last Sept.. 1929 THE BRIMMING CUP 947 night it was just getting dark. Of course no one was at the station to meet me because they didn't know I was coming. Mae wanted to send a telegram, but I wanted to surprise them. "I wish you could know, Clara, how humble I felt as I walked toward that little home that had seemed so dingy to me two weeks ago. When I entered the gate and started up the walk — why I just felt like I was walk- ing on holy ground. The window shades were crooked and the usual litter of toys was on the porch and I knew that the kitchen paper would be even a little dingier than when I had left, and that the bathroom door would still squeak, and that there would still be endless scrimping and drudgery; but, oh, Clara, I could hardly wait to get into the house. "The girls were setting the table for supper. I could see them passing back and forth to the kitchen. I saw Dick pick Marcus up and give him a playful toss in the air, and I heard the baby's delighted shriek and de- mand that he do it again. Junior was standing by the table looking at the funny paper and Philip, with both his legs sound and well, was making a top over by the waste paper basket. They seemed happy and getting along just as usual — without me. A sicken- ing feeling came over me that maybe they hadn't missed me and wouldn't care how long I stayed. A lump in my throat was choking me as I opened the door. "But, Clara, the shout that went up when they saw me, and the way they all rushed to me — why that was the happiest thrill of my life. I'll always have that to remember if I ever feel any signs of getting discontented. Oh, I tell you Mae was right about my having the brimming cup. "Why, Clara, you are not crying?" "No, Jen, I'm just finding out that I have a brimming cup too — and I — I didn't know it before." "There comes Dick back from the store. It took Nancy plenty of time to decide what she wanted. Do run over, Clara, and thanks again for all you did while I was gone." The Highest Beauty The crafts of men are lauded, Nature's handiwork is sung. The things of life applauded. The bells of glory rung. Man, satisfied, reliant, Content in realm and pow'r, Sees not the gems of truer worth, Sees weeds, but not the flow'r. In mortal world, in realms of men, Or heaven's unknown parts, What beauties found, or grace abound. Like a child's untarnished heart. Castle Dale. Utah RAY M. WILLIAMS