“Barclay!” exclaimed the older man in a disgusted tone. “What’s Mercedes want with him? A handsome girl like that oughtn’t to bother her head about a skunk like Barclay.” “Go slow, Jim, go slow now,” said Rion, laughing; and placing his big hand on the Colonel’s shoulder he pressed it hard. “Mustn’t talk that way to me about Jerry any more. He’s going to become a member of the family. He and Mercedes are engaged. It’s announced to-night. That’s why I’m here. That’s why Mercedes wanted the men of the family to rally round her, and lend the weight of their approval to something they don’t approve of at all.” For the first moment the Colonel was too staggered to speak. He had expected it--as Rosamund had--but not so soon, not so indecently soon. His mind leaped forward to the certainty of June’s hearing it suddenly from a partner and something distressing happening. “Stay here, Rion, for a moment,” he said quietly. “I want to speak to Rosamund.” Even as he stepped forward, Rosamund, a few yards in front of them, wheeled suddenly from the two men before her, and came toward him. One glance at her face told him that she too had heard. “Uncle Jim,” she whispered, as they came together and she made a desperate clutch at him, “quick! something dreadful’s happened. Mercedes and Jerry are engaged and it’s announced to-night. Everybody’s talking of it. Jack Griscom’s just told me. What’ll we do? June may hear it at any moment. We’ve got to get her away before she does.” June stood just beyond them. Breaking into Rosamund’s last words came the little blow of her fan striking the floor. Her program fluttered down beside it. “Why, Miss Allen,” said her companion, a youth who had been the first to impart the news of the evening, “what is it? You’re dropping everything.” As he bent on his knees to pick up the fallen properties, the Colonel roughly pushed him aside. June’s stricken face appalled him. He drew one of her hands through his arm, and said in a low authoritative voice: “Come. We’re going home. Walk to the door and I’ll get the carriage in a minute.” She made an effort and turning moved toward the door. In the passing in and out of laughing people, flushed with exercise and pleasure, no one noticed her except Rion, who suddenly saw her approach and sweep by, her eyes staring before her, her face set like a stone. Rosamund had taken the fan and program from the astonished boy, and with a rapid sentence to the effect that her sister felt faint, followed them. Rion dared to touch her arm as she passed through the doorway. “What’s the matter with June?” he said bruskly. “She looks as if she were dying.” “She’s sick. She--she--feels faint. It’s--it’s--a sort of an attack.”