My dearest Sweetheart:
It has just struck twelve and I’m sleepy, but I want to tell you that I love you, love you and love you.
Mama and I have just returned from the League Hallowe’en party, and “Spooks” didn’t get us on our way home either. We rather expected to find a flat tire or something when we started to get in the car, but everything was unmolested. Somehow, the party was not much of a success. You have been to places where everyone just naturally had a good time without half trying, while you have been to other places where everything that was said and done sounded wrong and looked wrong and hit cold. The latter was the case tonight, and for the sole and simple reason that there were two young ladies (about fifteen years old) who wanted to be “different” by throwing cold water on all the entertainment that was attempted. They didn’t want to have a good time, and seemed determined to see that no one else did. You know there is nothing that kills the spirit of fun in a crowd more quickly than that. I felt so sorry for the girl who had charge of the entertainment for the evening. This was only the second time she had served in that capacity, and she feels that she is a miserable failure now, even though she has worked so awfully hard on this party for this evening. I have never seen anyone look more discouraged and disgusted than she did a few minutes ago.
Excuse this outburst, but I had it in my system, so I feel better now.
Sweetheart I didn’t write you last night because it rained yesterday and I didn’t get the letter of the night before mailed. I thought of you just the same though.
Mama and I didn’t go in town this evening before the post office closed, but I had phoned Bob and asked him to get our mail and carry it to his house so we could get it tonight. He did and we did (get the mail I mean), and that nice long letter of yours was the greatest treat I could have next to being with you in person. Sweetheart, I enjoyed it so much, and I’ll write you more about it tomorrow (I mean today – it is almost 12:30 now).
I love you, Dear, bless your heart! – just more and more and more.
Nov. 1, 1925.
Here goes the second installment.
I, too, was surprised to know that Mr. Pettit was married. You can’t “always sometimes” tell, can you, what is going to happen. I am wondering if she happened to be a nurse in the sanitarium in Legion and the romance began there, or she may have been someone he knew before going there. At any rate, I sincerely hope they will be happy.
Sweetheart, I have never had anyone else tell me I was unusually sensitive, but I may be. We’ll take it for granted that I am though, and forget it. I’m awfully sorry I created such a misunderstanding but it’s all over now. I don’t want you to feel like you have to be on “needles and pins” for fear I will take “a fence” about anything, because I’m going to be good from now on. I’ll prove to you that I’m not hard to get along with.
You were writing about someone for Best man in the wedding. I’m sorry Mr. Pettit married so soon because I think it would be fine to have him. It would be fine to have Mr. Parman if he were not married, but, Dear, you see, the Best Man is supposed not to have a wife because the Maid of Honor is unmarried. He will enter the church with you, but, after we meet at the altar and the ceremony is performed, he will march out with the Maid of Honor (who is to be Claudelle) and you and I will go together. You see, if he were married, it wouldn’t be exactly right. Perhaps your brother (if he will be here) or Mr. Poole or someone else would be all right. Of course that is entirely with you, Dear. Anyone you choose will suit me fine. My, I get so enthusiastic when we begin planning about the wedding! Sweetheart, I’m so happy.
I love you worlds and worlds all the time.
Always, your own loving