We were compelled to be satisfied with this, but for several days we lingered in anxiety.  During that painful interval nothing occurred to enlighten us, except one conversation with Tish.

We had taken dinner with her, and she seemed to be all right again and more than usually active.  She had given up the Bran-Nut after breaking a tooth on it, and was eating rare beef, which she had heard was digested in the spleen or some such place, thus resting the stomach for a time.  She left us, however, immediately after the meal, and Hannah, her maid, tiptoed into the room.

“I’m that nervous I could scream,” she said.  “Do you know what she’s doing now?

“No, Hannah,” I said with bitter sarcasm.  “Long ago I learned never to surmise what Miss Tish is doing.”

“She’s in the bathroom, standing on one foot and waving the other in the air.  She’s been doing it,” Hannah said, “for weeks.  First one foot, then the other.  And that ain’t all.”

“You’ve been spying on Miss Tish,” Aggie said.  “Shame on you, Hannah!”

“I have, Miss Aggie.  Spy I have and spy I will, while there’s breath in my body.  Twenty years have I—­Do you know what she does when she come home from these sneakin’ trips of hers?  She sits in a hot bath until the wonder is that her blood ain’t turned to water.  And after that she uses liniment.  Her underclothes is that stained up with it that I’m ashamed to hang ’em out.”

Here Tish returned and, after a suspicious glance at Hannah, sat down.  Aggie and I glanced at each other.  She did not, as she had for some time past, line the chair with pillows, and there was an air about her almost of triumph.

She did not, however, volunteer any explanation.  Aggie and I were driven to speculation, in which we indulged on our way home, Aggie being my guest at the time, on account of her janitor’s children having measles, and Aggie never having had them, although recalling a severe rash as a child, with other measly symptoms.

“She has something in mind for next summer,” said Aggie apprehensively, “and she is preparing her strength for it.  Tish is forehanded if nothing else.”

“Well,” I remarked with some bitterness, “if we are going along it might be well to prepare us too.”

“Something,” Aggie continued, “that requires landing on one foot with the other in the air.”

“Don’t drivel,” said I.  “She’s not likely going into the Russian ballet.  She’s training her muscles, that’s all.”

But the mystery was solved the following morning when Charlie Sands called me up.

“I’ve got it, beloved aunt,” he said.

“Got what?” said I.

“What the old lady is up to.  She’s a wonder, and no mistake.  Only I think it was stingy of her not to let you and Aunt Aggie in.”

He asked me to get Aggie and meet him at the office as soon as possible, but he refused to explain further.  And he continued to refuse until we had arrived at our destination, a large brick building in the center of the city.