“Well, that was the best thing for you to do.” Mrs. Barclay took a deep breath, as if she were inhaling a delicious perfume. “It's much better than to have him plunge in here some day and have your father break out like he does in his rough way. What did Alan say?” “He said very little; but he looked it. You ought to have seen him. Frank came up just about that time and invited me to have some ice-cream, and I had to leave him. He was as white as a sheet. He had made an engagement with me to sit out a dance, and he didn't come in the room again till that dance was called, and then he didn't even mention it. He acted so peculiarly, I could see it was nearly killing him, but he wouldn't let me bring up the subject again. I came near doing it; but he always steered round it.” “He's a sensible young man,” declared Mrs. Barclay. “Any one can see that by looking at him. He's not responsible for his father's foolhardy venture, but it certainly leaves him in a bad fix as a marrying man. He's had bad luck, and he must put up with the consequences. There are plenty of girls who have no money or prospects who would be glad to have him, but--” “Mother,” broke in Dolly, as if she had been listening to her own troubled thoughts rather than her mother's words; “he didn't act as if he wanted to see me alone. The other couples who had engagements to talk during that dance were sitting in windows and out-of-the-way corners, but he kept me right where I was, and was as carefully polite as if we had just been introduced. I was sorry for him and mad at the same time. I could have pulled his ears.” “He's sensible, very sensible,” said Mrs. Barclay, in a tone of warm admiration. “A man like that ought to get along, and I reckon he will do well some day.” “But, mother,” said Dolly, her rich, round voice rising like a wave and breaking in her throat, “he may never think about me any more.” “Well, that really would be best, dear, under the circumstances.” “Best?” Dolly blurted out. “How can you say that, when--when--” “Dolly, you are not really foolish about him, are you?” Mrs. Barclay's face dropped into deeper seriousness. Dolly looked away and was silent for a moment; then she faltered: “I don't know, mother, I--I'm afraid if I keep on feeling like I do now I 'll never get over it.”