WHEN Aunt Maria reached her home after a hard day, she was smiling. Today, the residents of that big house where she was working as a cleaner, returned from a holiday in London and brought with them a big packet of wonderful delicacies.

“Come, Maria, take some for your boys,” gently called the hostess and Maria shyly took one of the brightly-coloured packets with a picture of appetising round-shaped hazelnut and raisins cookies.

“See what a yummy treat I’ve got here for tea!” she emptied the cookies on a small platter, as everybody took place at the table. The cups rattled cheerfully in Grandma’s hands. Tim, the youngest of twins, pulled the platter to himself.

“What are you doing?” Ted said sternly. “Give it to me, or divide them one by one.”

The twins tipped the cookies from the platter onto the table and stacked them into two piles.

“Is this fair now?” asked Tim.

Ted’s eyes spanned the piled. “Yeah, fair … Give us our tea, Grandma!”

Grandmother handed a cup full of tea to each of them. Silence settled over the table. The piles of cookies were quickly shrinking.

“So crunchy and scrumptious,” said Ted, smacking his lips.

“Uh-huh,” Tim nodded, his mouth full.

Both women remained quiet. When the last cookie was eaten up, Tim took a deep breath, tapped his tummy and got up from the table. Ted gobbled the last bit, wiped his mouth and looked at the mother — she was wordlessly stirring her tea with a teaspoon, her drink still untouched. He turned towards grandma — she was silently chewing on the piece of the stale toast. Suddenly the delicious cookies seemed tasteless and Ted had never been so ashamed of himself before. The bitter aftertaste of his selfish deed remained with him for long.