uth?"

"Go and ask Mr. Ostermaier," said Tish, in a bored tone.

"But this boy outside----"

"Look here," Tish said suddenly, "go and ask that noisy young idiot for
his blue card. It's my belief he hasn't registered and more than likely
he's been making all this fuss so he'll have an excuse if he's found
out. How do we know," she went on, gaining force with each word, "that
there _is_ a Myrtle?"

"By George!" said Charlie Sands, and disappeared.

It was then, for the first time in her valiant life, that I saw our Tish
weaken.

"Lizzie!" she groaned, leaning back in her chair. "That Culver was
married with another man's name on the license. What's more, I married
him to that flibbertygibbet who had just jilted him. What have I done?
Oh, what have I done?"

"They both seemed happy, Tish," I tried to soothe her. But she refused
all consolation, and merely called Hannah and asked for some blackberry
cordial. She drank fully half a tumbler full and she recovered her poise
by the time Charlie Sands stuck his head through the door again.

"You're right, most shrewd of aunts," he said. "He's been playing me for
a sucker all right. Not a blue card on him! And he belongs out of town,
so it's too late."

"It's a jail matter," said Tish, knitting calmly, although we afterwards
discovered that she had put a heel on the wristlet she was making.
"You'd better get his name, and I'll notify the sheriff of his county in
the morning."

Charlie Sands came over to her and stood looking down at her.

"Aunt Tish," he said. "I believe you. I believe you firmly. I shall not
even ask about a young man named Culver, who went to get our marriage
license list at the Court House this afternoon and has not been seen
since. But I want to bring a small matter to your attention. That
policeman had not registered."

He then turned and went toward the door.

"But I did, dear Aunt Letitia," he said and was gone.

* * * * *

Tish came to see me the next afternoon, bringing the paper, which
contained a glowing account of her gift to the local Red Cross of a fine
ambulance. An editorial comment spoke of her public spirit, which for so
many years had made her a conspicuous figure in all civic work.

"The city," it finished, "can do with many like our Miss 'Tish'
Carberry."

But Tish showed no exultation. She sat in a rocking chair and rocked
slowly.

"Read the next editorial, Lizzie," she said, in a low vo