“The man, Lawrence, as you may know, sir, is a gentleman in origin and socially above most of the good fellows in the ranks.”

“And these men sometimes make trouble,” interrupted the Colonel.

“He came from the same place that I do and tells me he knew my mother—­God bless her—­and that she was very kind to him in his boyhood.  That was before I was born.  He knows a surprising deal about my parents, both of whom died when I was a boy.  Sometimes I have doubted whether all he told me was true, but invariably it tallies with my own childish recollections and what I have been told of my mother.  Lawrence has a passionate attachment to my mother’s memory.  He knows her birthday, and the day of her death, and more even than I do about her.  The first word I had with him was on the anniversary of my mother’s death.  He came to my quarters and asked to see me, told me of my mother’s goodness to him, and burst into tears before he got through.  Of course, that melted me—­my mother was one of God’s angels on this earth.  He is always in money troubles, and I helped him.  That brought me into contact with his wife—­a woman of his own class, who has stood by Lawrence, and is worthy, I think, to be classified with my mother.  If you could see the way that woman works for Lawrence and their child—­there’s a little boy five years old,—­and how she struggles to keep him straight and sober.  I had just done her a little favor at the post trader’s place, and went to her to explain it privately.  She was very grateful; you saw her put her hand on my shoulder.  The truth is, Mrs. Lawrence does not yet fully understand her position as a private soldier’s wife.  What I have told you, sir, is all, upon my honor.”

“I believe you,” said Colonel Fortescue, after a moment, and holding out his hand, which Broussard grasped with a feeling of vast relief.

“The man seems to be doing pretty well, except about his money troubles, of which I know nothing but what you tell me,” went on the Colonel.  “He is one of the best aviators in the corps.  Of course, his name isn’t Lawrence.”

“So he admitted to me,” replied Broussard, “I am all abroad concerning his knowledge of my family.  I only know that he loves my mother’s memory, that he evidently knew her well, and that his wife is an heroic woman.  I have promised her that when the little boy is old enough I will do a good part by him.  I have something besides my pay.”

This “something” was of a size that made the Colonel think it was rather a drawback to Broussard.

“I only advise you to be prudent in your intercourse with Lawrence and his wife,” said the Colonel, rising.  And the interview was over.

Broussard went back with a light heart to his day’s duties.  The Colonel knew the truth, and so, some day, would Anita, the little witch.

It was growing dusk when Broussard again passed the headquarters building.  The last mail had come in and the published orders were fastened on the bulletin board.  Broussard stopped to read them.  The first name mentioned was that of Lieutenant Victor Broussard, who was detached from his present duty at Fort Blizzard and ordered on special duty to the Philippines.