“He is going to work for six months before she marries him,” Tish said.  “He seems to like to work, now he has started.”

She rang the bell and Hannah came to the door.

“Hannah,” said Tish calmly, “call up the garage and tell McDonald to bring the car round.  Mr. Sands is going out.”

MY COUNTRY TISH OF THEE—­

We had meant to go to Europe this last summer, and Tish would have gone anyhow, war or no war, if we had not switched her off onto something else.  “Submarines fiddlesticks!” she said.  “Give me a good life preserver, with a bottle of blackberry cordial fastened to it, and the sea has no terrors for me.”

She said the proper way to do, in case the ship was torpedoed, was to go up on an upper deck, and let the vessel sink under one.

“Then without haste,” she explained, “as the water rises about one, strike out calmly.  The life-belt supports one, but swim gently for the exercise.  It will prevent chilling.  With a waterproof bag of crackers, and mild weather, one could go on comfortably for a day or two.”

I still remember the despairing face Aggie turned to me.  It was December then, and very cold.

However, she said nothing more until January.  Early in that month Charlie Sands came to Tish’s to Sunday dinner, and we were all there.  The subject came up then.

It was about the time Tish took up vegetarianism, I remember that, because the only way she could induce Charlie Sands to come to dinner was to promise to have two chops for him.  Personally I am not a vegetarian.  I am not and never will be.  I took a firm stand except when at Tish’s home.  But Aggie followed Tish’s lead, of course, and I believe lived up to it as far as possible, although it is quite true that, stopping in one day unexpectedly to secure a new crochet pattern, I smelled broiling steak.  But Aggie explained that she merely intended to use the juice from a small portion, having had one of her weak spells, the balance to go to the janitor’s dog.

However, this is a digression.

“Europe!” said Charlie Sands.  “Forget it!  What in the name of the gastric juice is this I’m eating?”

It was a mixture of bran, raisins, and chopped nuts, as I recall it, moistened with water and pressed into a compact form.  It was Tish’s own invention.  She called it “Bran-Nut,” and was talking of making it in large quantities for sale.

Charlie Sands gave it up with a feeble gesture.  “I’m sorry, Aunt Letitia,” he said at last; “I’m a strong man ordinarily, but by the time I’ve got it masticated I’m too weak to swallow it.  If—­if one could have a stream of water playing on it while working, it would facilitate things.”

“The Ostermaiers,” said Aggie, “are going West.”

“Good for the Ostermaiers,” said Charlie Sands.  “Great idea.  See America first.  ‘My Country Tish of Thee,’ etc.  Why don’t you three try it?”