May 9, 07.
Dear Jennie,
Hello, I am glad to speak to you again, even though I am so long about it. You see I have been trying to say something or otherwise keep quiet; but as there is nothing to say, I have decided to speak anyway.
The latest news from our family is very sad. Jock is dead. I found him down in the woods cold and stiff. I certainly do miss him. Every time I step out-of-doors I start to call him before I remember that he is reposing down in the garden.
Margaret has been telling me about the good times she had while at Holyoke. About sleeping six in a bed, and so forth. What I want to know is, "When do you do your studying?" (Please do not be surprised. It is only the school teacher spirit cropping out).
Really I am getting to look horribly solemn. One of the girls said the other day she used to think I never laughed or smiled.
I wish you could be here twenty-one days from now. I am afraid we will not have much of a picnic this year. Most everyone is away.
This is a picture of Constance practicing her music lesson. I put it in to explain the senselessness and lunaticasylumidioticmanical condition of this letter. Let it (not the picture, the letter) tell you one thing though. I think of you often and am always glad to hear from you.
Your loving friend,
Baddie.