om the encyclopaedia, in
anticipation of his visit. Also, Broussard had, very artfully, secured
a traitor in the enemy's camp because it was well understood at Fort
Blizzard that Colonel Fortescue was the enemy of every subaltern at the
post who dared to raise his sacrilegious eyes to the Colonel's daughter.

This traitor was Kettle, into whose hand Broussard never failed to
place a quarter whenever they met, and at the same time to wink
gravely. Kettle knew the meaning both of the quarter and the wink.

Across the hall Kettle was arranging the dinner table, it being Mrs.
McGillicuddy's duty to put the After-Clap to bed. The dining-room door
was ajar, and Kettle kept an eye open to Broussard's advantage.

Presently, Mrs. Fortescue came down-stairs, dressed for dinner in a
gown of a jocund yellow, which Colonel Fortescue liked. As she passed
the open door of the handsome dining-room, Kettle beckoned to her
mysteriously. Mrs. Fortescue walked into the room and Kettle closed
the door after her.

"Miss Betty," whispered Kettle earnestly, "doan' you go into that there
apiary," by which Kettle meant the aviary. "Miss Anita is in there
with Mr. Broussard, an' he got on his courtin' breeches, an' they's
jest as quiet as a couple of sleepin' babies."

[Illustration: "Miss Anita is in there with Mr. Broussard, an' he got
on his courtin' breeches, an' they's jest as quiet as a couple of
sleepin' babies."]

A look of annoyance came to Mrs. Fortescue's expressive eyes. The
Colonel had imbued her with disapproval of the man of too many motors
and horses and dogs and clothes and fighting chickens.

Mrs. Fortescue waved Kettle away and marched into the hall, where she
met Colonel Fortescue coming out of his office.

"It's Broussard," she whispered to the Colonel.

Together they entered the long drawing-room. Broussard and Anita were
leaning forward; Anita's face was still deeply flushed. Her beloved
white dove fluttered, unnoticed, about her white-shod feet. When the
glass door opened and Colonel and Mrs. Fortescue entered the little
glass room, both Anita and Broussard started violently--a sign of
captive love.

Mrs. Fortescue was gracious, merely because she could not help it, and
the Colonel treated Broussard with the elaborate courtesy which a
Colonel shows to a subaltern and which makes the subaltern look and
feel the size of the head of a pin. Naturally, Broussard hastened his
leave-taking and received no i