eleven o'clock
She saw again the steamy kitchen , deliciously scented with the perfume of cooking fruit , or the tantalizing , mouth-watering spiciness of vinegar and pickles . On the stove the big dishpan , in which the jelly glasses and fruit jars , with their tops and rubbers , bobbed about in hot water . In the great granite kettle simmered the cooking fruit Molly Brandeis , enveloped in the familiar blue-and-white apron , stood over it , like a priestess , stirring , stirring , slowly , rhythmically . Her face would be hot and moist with the steam , and very tired too , for she often came home from the store utterly weary , to stand over the kettle until ten or eleven o'clock . But the pride in it as she counted the golden or ruby tinted tumblers gleaming in orderly rows as they cooled on the kitchen table ! `` Fifteen glasses of grape jell , Fan ! And I did n't mix a bit of apple with it .