It was then, for the first time in her valiant life, that I saw our Tish weaken.
“Lizzie!” she groaned, leaning back in her chair. “That Culver was married with another man’s name on the license. What’s more, I married him to that flibbertygibbet who had just jilted him. What have I done? Oh, what have I done?”
“They both seemed happy, Tish,” I tried to soothe her. But she refused all consolation, and merely called Hannah and asked for some blackberry cordial. She drank fully half a tumbler full and she recovered her poise by the time Charlie Sands stuck his head through the door again.
“You’re right, most shrewd of aunts,” he said. “He’s been playing me for a sucker all right. Not a blue card on him! And he belongs out of town, so it’s too late.”
“It’s a jail matter,” said Tish, knitting calmly, although we afterwards discovered that she had put a heel on the wristlet she was making. “You’d better get his name, and I’ll notify the sheriff of his county in the morning.”
Charlie Sands came over to her and stood looking down at her.
“Aunt Tish,” he said. “I believe you. I believe you firmly. I shall not even ask about a young man named Culver, who went to get our marriage license list at the Court House this afternoon and has not been seen since. But I want to bring a small matter to your attention. That policeman had not registered.”
He then turned and went toward the door.
“But I did, dear Aunt Letitia,” he said and was gone.