and had opened the sleeve
hole and faced back the opening and put buttons and buttonholes on it.

"Not only that," said Mrs. Ostermaier, "but she has made the trousers of
several suits wrong side before and opened them up the back, and men are
such creatures of habit. They like things the way they are used to
them."

Well, I had to tell Tish, and she flew into a temper and said Mrs.
Ostermaier never could cut things out properly, and she would leave the
society. Which she did. But she was very unhappy over it, for Tish is
patriotic to her finger tips.

All the spring, until war was declared, she was restless and
discontented, and she took to long trips in the car, by herself,
returning moodier than ever. But with the announcement of war she found
work to do. She made enlisting speeches everywhere, and was very
successful, because Tish has a magnetic and compelling eye, and she
would fix on one man in the crowd and talk at him and to him until all
the men around were watching him. Generally, with every one looking he
was ashamed not to come forward, and Tish would take him by the arm and
lead him in to the recruiting station.

It was on one of these occasions that we saw the young man of the
blackberry cordial again.

Tish saw him first, from the tail of the wagon she was standing in. She
fixed him with her eye at once, and a man standing near him, said:

"Go on in, boy. You're as good as in the trenches already. She landed me
yesterday, but I've got six toes on one foot. Blessed if she didn't try
to take me to a hospital to have one cut off."

"Now," said Tish, "does any one wish to ask any questions?"

I saw the blackberry cordial person take a step forward.

"I would like to ask you one," he said. "How do you reconcile blackberry
cordial with the W. C. T. U.?"

Tish went white with anger, and would no doubt have flayed him with
words, as our blackberry cordial is made from her own grandmother's
recipe, and a higher principled woman never lived. But unluckily the
driver of the furniture wagon we were standing in had returned without
our noticing it, and drove off at that moment, taking us with him.

It was about this time that Charlie Sands came to see me one day,
looking worried.

"Look here," he said, "what's this about my having appendicitis?"

"Well, you ought to know," I replied rather tartly. "Don't ask me if you
have a pain."

"But I haven't," he said, looking aggrieved. "I'm all right. I never