Once more, when the color-sergeant brought the flag in, and placed it in a corner of the fine drawing-room, all present stood up; then there was much merry chatter and tea and chaff and that universal kindliness which seems to develop around a friendly tea table.  One thing surprised Broussard—­not only that Anita appeared quite grown up but that she could talk of many things of which he had never before heard her speak.  As for the Philippines, she had all the lore about them at her finger tips.  Broussard, watching her out of the tail of his eye, saw that she was no longer the adorable child, who lived with her birds and her violin, but an adorable woman, who had learned to think and feel and speak as a woman.  How was it that she had read so many books on the Philippines?

“When did you begin your study of the Philippines?” asked the wily Broussard.

“Only since January,” answered Anita; and realizing that she had unconsciously revealed a great secret she lowered her lashes and turned her violet eyes away from Broussard.

That night, over his last cigar in his room at the officers’ club, Broussard began to plan a regular campaign for Anita against Colonel Fortescue.  But ever in the midst of it would come those sweet inadvertent words of Anita’s and Broussard would fall into a delicious reverie with which Colonel Fortescue had no part.  But then Broussard would come back to the real business of the matter—­outgeneralling Colonel Fortescue—­for everybody knew how devoted Anita was to her father and Broussard considered the C. O. as a lion in his path.  Of course, the old curmudgeon, as Broussard in his own mind called the Colonel, would rake up a lot of imaginary objections—­he always was a martinet, and would be a stiff proposition to master in the present emergency.  Broussard was tolerably certain of Mrs. Fortescue’s assistance, who was an open and confessed sentimentalist, and was generally understood to be the guardian angel of all the love affairs at Fort Blizzard.  Beverley Fortescue might be reckoned as a neutral, being himself in the toils of Sally Harlow, who was Anita’s age.  Then, Kettle and the After-Clap could be reckoned upon as auxiliaries—­Broussard swore at himself for not remembering the After-Clap’s existence that afternoon; Anita was ridiculously fond of the little chap.

But Colonel Fortescue would be a hard nut to crack—­Broussard threw the stump of his cigar into the fire and thought all fathers of adorable daughters highly undesirable persons.  After long and hard thinking Broussard concluded to begin at once an earnest and devoted courtship of Colonel Fortescue as the best way to win Anita.

“Because I’ll have to court the old fellow anyhow, cuss him!” was Broussard’s inner belief.  “Anita will expect any man she marries to be as much in love with the Colonel as she is—­so here goes!”