Feb. 11, 1909 Dear Bertie: I got your letter yesterday, this P.M. It seems good to be able to hear from you so soon after your letter is mailed. I wrote Mr. Bradbury at No. Yakima and had wondered why the letter was so long reaching me. Did you just receive it? I enjoyed Mama H’s letter and am glad you send them to me. Don’t it make you tired the way Vic Hart acts? I am surprised that your mother allows her to rule it in after the way Vic treated you at St. Paul. I am even surprised that you ever referred to Fannie to Mrs. Mills. It will be much colder weather when I would do so. Page 2 You ask as to when I expect to “blow in.” That depends on the direction of the wind, but I guess now, one many more weeks I will yet give you. If my plans mature, I will probably be home about the 18th to 20th. But that seems a long time yet, to me, but if I ever get back again I will try to make up for what I may have lacked in “love letter” writing this trip. It rather seems to me I have had to do the most of that kind of writing and I thought a change might not be out of order. You know, it is a poor rule that don’t work two ways. I have long since ceased to expect “love letters” from you and feel that I am doing pretty well to get any old kind from you. Page 3 But I have tried to read between the lines and take for granted that there is under the surface lots of nice things that are not visible on the face of your letters. So I do not think you ought to complain, and insist upon me sending you a class of letters that I do not receive from you. You may remember some things you have said to me in the last few months are not calculated to cause voluminous love letters. But I don’t blame you at all for the way you have felt and for what you have said to me, but somehow the sounds— Page 4 —of some of the unwise things you have said to me in the last few months have been echoing in my memory together with the dampness I have encountered this trip. I reckon it is not alarming that my ardor has been dampened just a little. However, when I get home again for a little while, I am sure I will forget all about the cloudy rainy weather and the rest, and will love you harder than ever — maybe more than you desire. So don’t feel discouraged, and don’t allow anyone to tell you I don’t think often of you while absent, for I assure you, you are in my thoughts morn— Page 5 —ing, noon and night — and if in my dreams you are always the central figure in those that are most pleasant. It seems to me now that I have been away from you for months, and I shall not attempt to tell you on paper just how much I have missed you. Maybe I can tell you a little of it when there is no one else to hear and I can whisper it low in an ear that I feel is ever open to me — notwithstanding some of the tales I have to whisper are not the “sweet stories of old.” But never mind, “there’ll be a time someday” and that day I hope is not far distant when I will tell you “all about it.” Page 6 I wonder if you will be any more anxious to hear my little story than I will yours? I have had very nice business here, and I think it will end very much better than my first trip here. As you had not referred to my business here until your last letter, I thought I would not burden you with “M.E.” talks. I expect to be at Astoria Monday and that I may have a nice letter from you there. I am quite well and hope this will find you “on the mend.” With my dearest love to you and a sweet goodnight to you and the little ones, Lovingly your husband, Geo. A. D.