TISH DOES HER BIT
From the very beginning of the war Tish was determined to go to France.But she is a truthful woman, and her age kept her from being accepted.She refused, however, to believe that this was the reason, and blamedher rejection on Aggie and myself.
"Age fiddlesticks!" she said, knitting violently. "The plain truthis--and you might as well acknowledge it, Lizzie--that they would takeme by myself quick enough, just to get the ambulance I've offered, iffor no other reason. But they don't want three middle-aged women, and Idon't know that I blame them."
That was during September, I think, and Tish had just received her thirdrejection. They were willing enough to take the ambulance, but theywould not let Tish drive it. I am quite sure it was September, for Iremember that Aggie was having hay fever at the time, and she fell tosneezing violently.
Tish put down her knitting and stared at Aggie fixedly until theparoxysm was over.
"Exactly," she observed, coldly. "Imagine me creeping out onto abattlefield to gather up the wounded, and Aggie crawling behind, goingoff like an alarm clock every time she met a clump of golden rod, orwhatever they have in France to produce hay fever."
"I could stay in the ambulance, Tish," Aggie protested.
"I understand," Tish went on, in an inflexible tone, "that those Germansnipers have got so that they shoot by ear. One sneeze would probably befatal. Not only that," she went on, turning to me, "but you knowperfectly well, Lizzie, that a woman of your weight would be alwaysstepping on brush and sounding like a night attack."
"Not at all," I replied, slightly ruffled. "And for a very good reason.I should not be there. As to my weight, Tish, my mother was alwaysconsidered merely a fine figure of a woman, and I am just her size. Itis only since this rage for skinny women----"
But Tish was not listening. She drew a deep sigh, and picked up herknitting again.
"We'd better not discuss it," she said. But in these days of efficiencyit seems a mistake that a woman who can drive an ambulance and can'tturn the heel of a stocking properly to save her life, should beknitting socks that any soldier with sense would use to clean his gunwith, or to tie around a sore throat, but never to wear.
It was, I think, along in November that Charlie Sands, Tish's nephew,came to see me. He had telephoned, and asked me to have Aggie there. SoI called her up, and told her to buy some cigarettes on the way. Iremember that she was very irritated when she arrived, although the verysoul of gentleness usually.
She came in and slammed a small package onto my table.
"There!" she said. "And don't ever ask me to do such a thing again. Theman in the shop winked at me when I said they were not for myself."
However, Aggie is never angry for any length of time, and a moment latershe was remarking that Mr. Wiggins had always been a smoker, and thatone of his workmen had blamed his fatal accident on the roof to smokefrom his pipe getting into his eyes.
Shortly after that I was surprised to find her in tears.
"I was just thinking, Lizzie," she said. "What if Mr. Wiggins had lived,and we had had a son, and he had decided to go and fight!"
She then broke down and sobbed violently, and it was some time before Icould calm her. Even then it was not the fact that she had no son whichcalmed her.
"Of course I'm silly, Lizzie," she said. "I'll stop now. Because ofcourse they don't _all_ get killed, or even wounded. He'd probably comeout all right, and every one says the training is fine for them."
Charlie Sands came in shortly after, and having kissed us both and triedon a night shirt I was making for the Red Cross, and having found thecookie jar in the pantry and brought it into my sitting room, sat downand came to business.
"Now," he said. "What's she up to?"
He always referred to Tish as "she," to Aggie and myself.
"She has given up going to France," I replied.
"Perhaps! What does Hannah report?"
I am sorry to say that, fearing Tish's impulsive nature, we had feltobliged to have Hannah watch her carefully. Tish has a way of breakingout in unexpected places, like a boil, as Charlie Sands once observed,and by knowing her plans in advance we have sometimes prevented heracting in a rash manner. Sometimes, not always.
"Hannah says everything is quiet," Aggie said. "Dear Tish has apparentlygiven up all thought of going abroad. At least, Hannah says she nolonger practises first aid on her. Not since the time Tish gave her analcohol bath and she caught cold. Hannah says she made her lieuncovered, with the window open, so the alcohol would evaporate. But shegave notice the next day, which was ungrateful of her, for Tish sat upall night feeding her things out of her First Aid case, and if she _did_give her a bit of iodine by mistake----"
"She is no longer interested in First Aid," I broke in. Aggie has a wayof going on and on, and it was not necessary to mention the matter ofthe iodine. "I know that, because I blistered my hand over there theother day, and she merely told me to stick it in the baking soda jar."
"That's curious," said Charlie Sands.
"Because---- Great Scott, what's wrong with these cigarettes?"
"They are violet-scented," Aggie explained. "The smell sticks so, andLizzie is fond of violet."
However, he did not seem to care for them, and appeared positivelyashamed. He opened a window, although it was cold outside, and shookhimself in front of it like a dog. But all he said was:
"I am a meek person, Aunt Lizzie, and I like to humor whims when I can.But the next time you have a male visitor and offer him a cigarette,for the love of Mike don't tell him those brazen gilt-tipped incensethings are mine."
He then ate nine cookies, and explained why he had come.
"I don't like the look of things, beloved and respected spinsters," hesaid. "I fear my revered aunt is again up to mischief. You haven't heardher say anything more about aeroplanes, have you?"
"No," I replied, for us both.
"Or submarines?"
"She's been taking swimming lessons again," I said, thoughtfully.
"Lizzie!" Aggie cried. "Oh, my poor Tish!"
"I think, however," said Charlie Sands, "that it is not a submarine.There are no submarine flivvers, as I understand it, and a full-size onewould run into money. No, I hardly think so. The fact remains, however,that my respected and revered aunt has made away with about seventhousand dollars' worth of bonds that were, until a short time ago,giving semi-annual birth to plump little coupons. The question is, whatis she up to?"
But we were unable to help him, and at last he went away. His partingwords were:
"Well, there is something in the air, and the only thing to do, Isuppose, is to wait until it drops. But when my beloved female relativetakes to selling bonds without consulting me, and goes out, as I met heryesterday, with her hat on front side behind, there is something in thewind. I know the symptoms."
Aggie and I kept a close watch on Tish after that, but without result,unless the following incident may be called a result. Although it wasrather a cause, after all, for it brought Mr. Culver into our lives.
I think it important to relate it in detail, as in a way it vindicatesTish in her treatment of Mr. Culver, although I do not mean by thisstatement that there was anything of personal malice in the incident ofJune fifth of this year. Those of us who know Tish best realize that sheneeds no defence. Her motives are always of the highest, althoughperhaps the matter of the police officer was ill-advised. But now thatthe story is out, and Mr. Ostermaier very uneasy about the wrong namebeing on the marriage license, I think an explanation will do dear Tishno harm.
I should explain, then, that Tish has retained the old homestead in thecountry, renting it to a reliable family. And that it has been ourannual custom to go there for chestnuts each autumn. On the Sundayfollowing Charlie Sands' visit, therefore, while Aggie and I were havingdinner with Tish, I suggested that we make our annual pilgrimage thefollowing day.
"What pilgrimage?" Tish demanded. She was at that time interested inseeing if a table could be set
for thirty-five cents a day per person,and the meal was largely beans.
"For chestnuts," I explained.
"I don't think I'll go this year," Tish observed, not looking at eitherof us. "I'm not a young woman, and climbing a chestnut tree requiresyouth."
"You could get the farmer's boy," Aggie suggested, hopefully. Aggie is acreature of habit, and clings hard to the past.
"The farmer is not there any more."
We stared at her in amazement, but she was helping herself to boileddandelion at the time, and made no further explanation.
"Why, Tish!" Aggie exclaimed.
"Aggie," she