Ruth darling,
Your card came today, and so I am still awaiting the answer to my letter of last Friday. Between that and the impending exam tomorrow afternoon I am reduced to a state of very nearly fear and trembling, most of which has been occasioned by my foolishness and impulsiveness. But my only hope in the matter is that you weren’t hurt by what I have said.
We are still having cold, rainy weather, but none of your snows have thus far reached St. Louis. You won’t be seeing many more before you leave for home either I think. This has been a long summer, yet in less than two weeks you should be here—and school will be ready to start. If we could only have a few days of grace before the grind begins. Maybe, to partly compensate, we’ll have all next summer together. I do hope so, although if we do the time will most certainly pass much too rapidly.
If you are bound to have a riding master you would no doubt be better off with my second brother in that role than you would be if I filled it, for he has done little else than ride for several years. He even rides bronchos at the local rodeos around home, and occasionally comes off with first money for his ride. Be that as it may I’m certain he wouldn’t undertake the task with anything like the eagerness I should, though he would surely think in an attractive job—at which he wouldn’t have a chance if I’m able to prevent it.
Have you ever gotten up the courage to step on a scale and see the result? If so, were you astounded at the gain? I’ve lost about five pounds since school ended. Hope I don’t gain it back this winter because it’s just excess baggage.
No matter how soon the time for your return comes it won’t be half soon enough, darling. If you were to be gone all winter they would have me in the observation ward at the City Hospital before Christmas, for I am so lonely I have become as irritable and cross as I am miserable. Which must be proof that in my queer way
I love you,
Harold