to get the truth from an idiot who says he is
twenty-eight and has a daughter of eighteen! See here," Tish said to a
man in front of her, waving her pen and throwing a circle of ink about.
"I'll have you know that I represent the government today, and if you
think you are being funny, you are not."

Well, it turned out that he had married a widow with a child, but had a
cork leg anyhow, so it made no difference. But Tish's mind was not on
her work. However, she was undecided until Charlie Sands said:

"By the way, I saw your friend Culver among the Cupid-chasers today. And
this is his district. You'd better round him up."

"Culver!" Tish said. "Do you mean that--Lizzie, where's my hat?"

Well, we had to recover it again from the engine house dog, whom we
found burying it in the back yard. Tish's mind, however, was far away,
and she merely brushed it absently with her hand and stuck it on her
head. Then she turned to Charlie Sands.

"I'm going to the license court," she said, between clenched teeth. "And
I am going to show that young fool that he is not going to hide behind
any petticoats today."

"It's his privilege to get married if he wants to."

"When I finish with him," said Tish, grimly, "he won't want to."

All the way to the court house Tish's lips were moving, and I knew she
was rehearsing what she meant to say. I think that even then her shrewd
and active mind had some foreboding of what was to come, for she called
back unexpectedly to Aggie:

"Look in the right-hand pocket and see if there is a box of tacks
there."

"Tacks?" said Aggie. "Why, what in the world----"

"I had tacks to nail up flags this morning. Well?"

"They are here, Tish, but no hammer."

"I shan't need a hammer," Tish replied, cryptically.

I am afraid I had expected Tish to lead the way into the license court
and break out into patriotic fury. But how little, after all, I knew
her! Already in that wonderful brain of hers was seething the plot which
was so to alter certain lives, and was to leave an officer of the
law--but that comes later on.

Mr. Culver was at the desk. Just as we arrived, a clerk handed him a
paper, and he walked across the room to an ice-water cooler and took a
drink.

"The slacker!" said Tish, from clenched teeth. "The coward! The
poltroon! The----"

At that moment Mr. Culver, with a paper cup in his hand, saw us and
stared at us fixedly. The next moment he had whipped off his hat, and
was coming to