“Nice little girls have a bath every day.”
“Do they?” Eleanor asked. Her Aunt Beulah seemed to expect her to say something more, but she couldn’t think of anything.
“I’ll draw your bath for you this morning. After this you will be expected to take it yourself.”
Eleanor had seen bathrooms before, but she had never been in a bath-tub. At her grandfather’s, she had taken her Saturday night baths in an old wooden wash-tub, which had water poured in it from the tea 31 kettle. When Beulah closed the door on her she stepped gingerly into the tub: the water was twice too hot, but she didn’t know how to turn the faucet, or whether she was expected to turn it. Mrs. O’Farrel had told her that people had to pay for water in New York. Perhaps Aunt Beulah had drawn all the water she could have. She used the soap sparingly. Soap was expensive, she knew. She wished there was some way of discovering just how much of things she was expected to use. The number of towels distressed her, but she finally took the littlest and dried herself. The heat of the water had nearly parboiled her.
After that, she tried to do blindly what she was told. There was a girl in a black dress and white apron that passed her everything she had to eat. Her Aunt Beulah told her to help herself to sugar and to cream for her oatmeal, from off this girl’s tray. Her hand trembled a good deal, but she was fortunate enough not to spill any. After breakfast she was sent to wash her hands in the bathroom; she turned the faucet, and used a very little water. Then, when she was called, she went into the sitting-room and sat down, and folded her hands in her lap.
Beulah looked at her with some perplexity. The 32 child was docile and willing, but she seemed unexpectedly stupid for a girl ten years old.
“Have you ever been examined for adenoids, Eleanor?” she asked suddenly.
“No, ma’am.”
“Say, ‘no, Aunt Beulah.’ Don’t say, ‘no, ma’am’ and ‘yes, ma’am.’ People don’t say ‘no, ma’am’ and ‘yes, ma’am’ any more, you know. They say ‘no’ and ‘yes,’ and then mention the name of the person to whom they are speaking.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Eleanor couldn’t stop herself saying it. She wanted to correct herself. “No, Aunt Beulah, no, Aunt Beulah,” but the words stuck in her throat.