we are home again, and all is bustle and confusion—aunt gwendolin is going to be married. she pays no attention to me now at all; and you know, dear diary, how that grieves me. dressmakers, milliners, caterers, florists, decorators, throng the house. count de pensier is staying in a hotel downtown. he calls every forenoon, and every afternoon; and declares, with his hand on his heart, that he cannot return to his own country without his bride.

cousin ned has asked me to marry him. he is down in his luck, and blue—missed in his examinations—and he says he believes he might settle down and do something if he were only married. he says the relationship is so far out that there is nothing to hinder him and me from being married.

get married, indeed! there's nothing farther from my thoughts.