He began to walk the floor.  I don’t think I have mentioned it, but that is Carter’s busness.  Not walking the floor.  Advertizing.  Father says he is quite good, although only beginning.

“Tell me about it,” he said.

So I told him that Adrian was a mill worker, and the villain makes him lose his position, by means of forjery.  And Adrian goes to jail, and comes out, and no one will give him work.  So he prepares to blow up a Milionaire’s house, and his sweetheart is in it.  He has been to the Milionaire for work and been refused and thrown out, saying, just before the butler and three footmen push him through a window, in dramatic tones, “The world owes me a living and I will have it.”

“Socialism!” said Carter.  “Hard stuff to handle for the two dollar seats.  The world owes him a living.  Humph!  Still, that’s a good line to work on.  Look here, Bab, give me a little time on this, eh what?  I may be able to think of a trick or two.  But mind, not a word to any one.”

He started out, but he came back.

“Look here,” he said.  “Where do we come in on this anyhow?  Suppose I do think of somthing—­what then?  How are we to know that your beloved and his manager will thank us for buting in, or do what we sugest?”

Again I drew myself to my full heighth.

“I am a person of iron will when my mind is made up,” I said.  “You think of somthing, Carter, and I’ll see that it is done.”

He gazed at me in a rapt manner.

“Dammed if I don’t beleive you,” he said.

It is now late at night.  Beresford has gone.  The house is still.  I take the dear Picture out from under my mattress and look at it.

Oh Adrien, my Thespian, my Love.

January 21st. I have a bad cold, Dear Dairy, and feel rotten.  But only my physicle condition is such.  I am happy beyond words.  This morning, while mother and Sis were out I called up the theater and inquired the price of a box.  The man asked me to hold the line, and then came back and said it would be ten dollars.  I told him to reserve it for Miss Putnam—­my middle name.

I am both terrafied and happy, dear Dairy, as I lie here in bed with a hot water bottle at my feet.  I have helped the Play by buying a box, and tonight I shall sit in it alone, and he will percieve me there, and consider that I must be at least twenty, or I would not be there at the theater alone.  Hannah has just come in and offered to lend me three dollars.  I refused hautily, but at last rang for her and took two.  I might as well have a taxi tonight.

1 A. M. The familey was there.  I might have known it.  Never do I have any luck.  I am a broken thing, crushed to earth.  But “Truth crushed to earth will rise again.”—­Whittier?

I had my dinner in bed, on account of my cold, and was let severly alone by the Familey.  At seven I rose and with palpatating fingers dressed myself in my best evening Frock, which is a pale yellow.  I put my hair up, and was just finished, when mother nocked.  It was terrable.