Betty at Fort Blizzard | Page 6

being frankly in love with Anita, lost all his importance and
presumption in her sweet presence, and was as gentle and modest as the
white dove that Anita still held to her breast. As he longed to sit near
her and ask her poignant questions, Broussard sat a long way off and
talked common-places, chiefly about birds, of which he showed a
surprising knowledge, gleaned that afternoon from 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 invitation to remain, except from Anita's
eyes, shy and long-lashed.
When the Colonel and Mrs. Fortescue and Anita were sitting at the
softly-shaded round table in the dining-room, Anita's chair was close to
her father's--the two were never far apart when they could be close
together. Mrs. Fortescue wore around her white throat a locket with a
miniature in it of her boy soldier. He was to her what Anita was to the
Colonel, but being a stout-hearted woman she had sent her son away to
be a soldier and had worn a smile at parting. There was a strain of the
Spartan mother in this smiling daughter, wife, and mother of soldiers.
"Did you have a pleasant visit from Mr. Broussard?" asked Colonel
Fortescue.
"Very pleasant, daddy dear. He knows so much about birds."
"I think," replied the Colonel, darkly, "Mr. Broussard's knowledge
comes chiefly from the study of fighting chickens."
"I hear he has cockfights on Sunday, in the cellar of his quarters," said
Mrs. Fortescue, willing to give Broussard a slashing cut under the fifth
rib.
"Cocking mains, my dear," corrected the Colonel, and then kept on,
earnestly, to Anita.
"Yon can scarcely imagine the horrors of a cockpit. The poor
gamecocks, with cruel spurs upon their feet, tearing each other to
pieces, and blood and feathers all over the place."
"You seem wonderfully familiar with cockpits," remarked Mrs.
Fortescue. "It seems to me, when we went to our first post after we
were married, that you were sometimes missing on Sunday morning,
and used to tell me afterward about the grand time you had, and the
superior fighting qualities of the Savoys over the Bantams."
The Colonel scowled.

"I don't recall the circumstances, Elizabeth," he said.
"But I do, John," tartly responded Mrs. Fortescue.
Anita knew that when it was Jack and Betty the skies were serene, and
when it became John and Elizabeth there were clouds upon the horizon.
At this point Kettle, who was serving dinner, felt