h adulation, the After-Clap was, in general, coolly
supercilious to strangers, but he seemed much pleased with Beverley's
appearance, and called him "Bruvver," as he had called Broussard, who had
been long since forgotten by the After-Clap.

"What a jolly little rascal!" cried Beverley, whose experience with small
children was nil.

The After-Clap returned the compliment, by rapturously hugging Beverley.
In fact, they became such chums on the spot that much difficulty was
experienced in persuading the After-Clap to go to bed when Mrs.
McGillicuddy was ready for him.

There was a joyous dinner. Beverley, like Colonel Fortescue, was
surprised to find that Anita was grown up, like other girls of eighteen.
Also, that his father was almost as young and handsome as his mother.

"I say, Colonel," said Beverley, "you're the handsomest Colonel in the
army."

The Colonel smiled.

"For your age, that is."

The Colonel scowled.

"Your father's touchy about his age," Mrs. Fortescue explained, "and so
am I, so please, Beverley, keep away from the unpleasant subject."

Beverley Fortescue had three months' leave before taking up his duties as
an officer at the post and it was a halcyon time at the Commandant's
house. In spite of the torrid heat, there were parties of pleasure and
little dances, and all the round of gaieties that prevail at army posts.
The Colonel was proud of his well-set-up stripling, although, of course,
a boy could never be of so much value in a family as a girl, according to
Colonel Fortescue's philosophy. With Mrs. Fortescue it was the other
way. Dear as was Anita to her, the mother's heart was triumphant over
her soldier son. As for the After-Clap, he frankly repudiated his whole
domestic circle, except Kettle, for Beverley, who was as tall and strong
as his father and could do many more things amusing to a
two-and-half-year-old than a stern and dignified Colonel. Anita and
Beverley were as intimate and passionately fond of each other as when
they were little playmates. Beverley asked some questions of his mother
concerning Anita.

"All the fellows like to dance with her and ride with her, but she treats
them all as she does old Conway."

"Old Conway," Colonel Fortescue's aide, was barely turned thirty; but to
the twenty-one-year-old Beverley, Conway seemed an aged veteran.

"I can't understand it," plaintively responded Mrs. Fortescue.
"Sometimes I think Anita has no coquetry in her. Again