"Yes," answered Anita softly, "next your honor."
"And I have loved you for a long time," Broussard continued, "for a whole year." In their brief, bright lives, a whole year seemed a long time. "But you were so young—last year you were but a child, and I was ashamed of myself for what I said to you the night of the music ride—it isn't right to speak words of love to a girl who is not yet a woman. Will you forgive me?"
Anita's forgiveness shone in her eyes and smiled upon her scarlet mouth when Broussard laid his lips on hers.
Suddenly, a wild shriek resounded. The After-Clap, who had been in hiding behind Anita, and was unseen by Broussard, and forgotten by Anita, emerged and set up a violent protest. Being now a sturdy three-year-old, he was well able to express himself.
"You go 'way!" screamed the After-Clap, raising a copper-toed foot, and kicking Broussard's shins.
"You let my 'Nita 'lone, you bad man!"
The After-Clap's shrieks brought the chaplain and Kettle and a couple of soldiers quickly out of the chapel. Meanwhile, with what Broussard thought superhuman and intelligent malice, the After-Clap dragged the iron gate open that led to the plaza, and rushed straight into the arms of Colonel Fortescue, returning from his first walk, aided by a stick in one hand and Mrs. Fortescue's arm on the other side.
"Daddy! Daddy! You come here and beat Mr. Broussard. He kissed 'Nita! He kissed 'Nita!" shrieked the After-Clap.
Broussard and Anita, standing in the circle of eyes, were much embarrassed; Kettle, grabbing the After-Clap, shook him well, saying:
"Heish yo' mouth! you didn't see no sich a thing!"