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Aggie had brought a basket with some luncheon for her, and she placed it on the truck. But there was an alarm of fire soon after, and the thing went out in a rush with the lunch and also with Tish’s hat.

Tish was furiously angry. Indeed, I have since thought that much of what followed was due to the loss of the luncheon, which the firemen declared they had not seen, although Aggie was positive she saw one of them eating one of the doughnuts that afternoon behind a newspaper.

But, worst of all, Tish’s hat was missing. It reappeared later, however, but was brought in by the engine house dog, after having been run over by the Chief’s machine, two engines and a ladder truck.

As I say, that was part of her irritation, but what really upset her was the number of married men. More than once, as she grew excited, I heard her say:

“Married? How many wives?”

When of course she meant how many children.

She had registered twenty-four married men and two single ones by one o’clock, and she was looking very discouraged. But at one o’clock the clerk from the shoe store at the corner came in, and said he had dependent on him a wife, four children, a mother-in-law, a sister-in-law and his sister-in-law’s husband.

“Of course,” Tish said bitterly, “you claim exemption.”

“Me?” he said. “Me, Miss Carberry? My God, no.”

Well, about two o’clock Charlie Sands came in. Tish saw him the moment he entered the door, and stopped work to watch him. But he made no attempt to register. He said he was doing a column of slackers for the next morning’s paper.

“There’s aren’t many,” he said, “but of course there are some. The license court is the place to nail them.”

“Do you mean to tell me,” Tish demanded, “that there are traitors in this country who are getting married today?“

“There are,” said Charlie Sands, sitting down on the fire truck. “Even so, beloved aunt. They are getting married so they can claim exemption because of a dependent wife. And I’ll bet the orphan asylums are full of fellows trying to get ready-made families.”

Tish is a composed and self-restrained woman, but she spoke so distinctly of how she felt about such conduct that Charlie Murray, our grocer’s assistant, who has four children, did not so much as mention them when she made out his card.

“Of course,” Charlie Sands observed, “I don’t want to dictate to you, because you’re doing all that can be expected of you now. But if some one would go to the license court and tell those fellows a bit of wholesome truth, it might be valuable.”

“You do it, Lizzie,” Tish said.

“I? I never made a speech in my life, Tish Carberry, and you know it.”

“And I never before tried 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.”