So the Updike application was refused. I have often wondered since what would have been the result had we accepted it!
The worms were doing well, though Tish found that Hannah neglected them, and was compelled to feed them herself. On the day before we started, we packed them carefully in ice and moss, and fed them. That was the day the European war was declared.
"Canada is at war," Tish telephoned. "The papers say the whole country is full of spies, blowing up bridges and railroads."
"We can still go to the seashore," I said. "The bead things will do for the missionary box to Africa."
"Seashore nothing!" Tish retorted. "We're going, of course,—just as we planned. We'll keep our eyes open; that's all. I'm not for one side or the other, but a spy's a spy."
Later that evening she called again to say there were rumors that the Canadian forests were bristling with German wireless outfits.
"I've a notion to write J. Updike, Lizzie, and find out whether he knows anything about wireless telegraphy," she said, "only there's so little time. Perhaps I can find a book that gives the code."
[This is only pertinent as showing Tish's state of mind. As a matter of fact, she did not write to Updike at all.]
Well, we started at last, and I must say they let us over the border with a glance; but they asked us whether we had any firearms. Tish's trunk contained a shotgun and a revolver; but she had packed over the top her most intimate personal belongings, and they were not disturbed.
"Have you any weapons?" asked the inspector.