Had no money for the plate, and mother attempted to smuggle a half dollar to me. I refused, however, as if I cannot give my own money to the heathen, I will give none. Mother turned pale, and the man with the plate gave me a black look. What can he know of my reasons? Beresford lunched with us, and as I discouraged him entirely, he was very attentive to Sis. Mother is planing a big wedding, and I found Sis in the store room yesterday looking up mother's wedding veil. No old stuff for me. I guess Beresford is trying to forget that he kissed my hand the other night, for he called me "Little Miss Barbara" today, meaning little in the sense of young. I gave him a stern glance. "I am not any littler than the other night," I observed. "That was merely an affectionate diminutive," he said, looking uncomfortable. "If you don't mind," I said coldly, "you might do as you have heretofore--reserve your affectionate advances until we are alone." "Barbara!" mother said. And began quickly to talk about a Lady Something or other we'd met on a train in Switzerland. Because--they can talk until they are black in the face, dear Diary, but it is true we do not know any of the British Nobility, except the aforementioned and the man who comes once a year with flavoring extracts, who says he is the third son of a baronet. Every one being out this afternoon, I suddenly had an inspiration, and sent for Carter Brooks. I then put my hair up and put on my blue silk, because while I do not believe in woman using her feminine charm when talking business, I do believe that she should look her best under any and all circumstances. He was rather surprised not to find Sis in, as I had used her name in telephoning. "I did it," I explained, "because I knew that you felt no interest in me, and I had to see you." He looked at me, and said: "I'm rather flabbergasted, Bab. I--what ought I to say, anyhow?" He came very close, dear Diary, and suddenly I saw in his eyes the horrible truth. He thought me in love with him, and sending for him while the family was out. Words cannot paint my agony of soul. I stepped back, but he seized my hand, in a caressing gesture. "Bab!" he said. "Dear little Bab!" Had my affections not been otherwise engaged, I should have thrilled at his accents. But, although handsome and of good family, though poor, I could not see it that way. So I drew my hand away, and retreated behind a sofa. "We must have an understanding, Carter" I Said. "I have sent for you, but not for the reason you seem to think. I am in desperate trouble." He looked dumfounded. "Trouble!" he said. "You! Why, little Bab" "If you don't mind," I put in, rather pettishly, because of not being little, "I wish you would treat me like almost a debutante, if not entirely. I am not a child in arms." "You are sweet enough to be, if the arms might be mine."