To Riley: My own dear precious one
June 13, 1929, Friday Night
My own dear precious one:
I hope this message reaches you Sunday. I believe I am writing it scheduled to reach you Sunday. Too, I want you to know that I am more than glad to send it “Special”. I wish I had thought about it last Sunday but having been accustomed this year to a post office which delivers mail on Sunday, I forgot about Peabody’s closing it’s office at noon Saturday.
I always write to you at night just before I go to sleep and the letter goes off in the early morning mail. What time of the day do you usually receive my letters? If it is in the afternoon you miss one on Saturday, don’t you? If you have missed a day in receiving letters it has not been my fault for I have not yet missed a night from the night after I told you good-bye in the afternoon at Ellisville. Perhaps my writing may sometimes be hard to read for I quite often write lying down — — not because if have to but because I like to.
You told me that I would have to look after things this summer. Well, I am. Here’s proof of it. Mr. Bennett has sent out signed notices asking all instructors to make arrangements to be out of the dormitories next session unless they had been asked to assist in managing the students in their dormitory. I did not think it would apply to us but to make sure I went to him immediately. He said “No, indeed, it does not.” He said he thought he was going to give Walker charge of the main part of keeping order in the boys dormitory. Perhaps he means to use you in some way too, but, anyway, our apartment isn’t affected. I suspect that request is going to go pretty hard with some of those who are in the dormitory now.
Nancy Maurice has been visiting on the campus this week. She said tell you “Hello” and that she hoped you were having a happy summer, although she knew how you felt in some ways.
Irene has just come in from the show. There were two good shows on in H’burg this week, but Irene and I saw only one of them. If you have a chance to see it — — “Red Skin” — — be sure to do it. It is very beautiful.
I was in town this afternoon. My pictures were not ready. I felt like “balling them out” about it but I knew it would do no good. I guess they will be finished some sweet day. They should be good — — they have been long enough in the making.
You should be here helping me collect things for my hope chest.
I have never got as much real pleasure out of it before. I have just finished what I think is a very pretty boudoir pillow. I should have got a Peabody pillow last summer but I failed to do it. This afternoon I found some very pretty bridge lamps on sale at Fine’s. The one I got is blue but it will match the sets I am planning for the rooms. Daddy is going to send my cedar chest real soon and I’ll be very glad when it comes. I wish I had more time to put on my hope chest but I suspect the money from teaching that course will be of more use to us. I hope Mr. Bennett lets me keep it all the summer. I am enjoying the geography class and the group is working fairly well. Mr. Brien’s section which meets twice a day is but very few lessons ahead of us. I don’t see how he expects to finish the work in the required time.
Irene says tell you that if you find any mistakes it is her fault for she has been talking since she came in from the show.
Riley, dear, I miss you, but I am standing it much better than I thought. I look with pleasure to the time that I can come in and work on something which is for both of us. That in itself gives me entertainment enough. I have no desire to hunt for somebody to pass the time away with. I am perfectly happy. Now, I see that I have never been perfectly contentedly in love before. There is nothing greater. Riley I appreciate you very, very much. I want to do all in my power to make us happy and happy I know we are going to be.
Irene is ready to mail my Sunday message. I wish I were arriving with the letter but I shall think of you. Here’s hoping sincerely that the delivery boy blows a whistle for you Sunday.
Yours with love which is dedicated and tender,
Clara
