Original Letter

France. Jan’y 9th 1918.

My Dearest Maidie:–

I’ve thrown away my rabbit’s foot, started putting my right shoe on first, stopped wishing on shooting stars, going to be glad I’m busted when I see a new moon and never, no not if I live to be hundreds of years old will I pick a four leaf clover. All this because yet another mail brought no letter from you. All day yesterday I kept checking of[f] the hours until mail time when I was to get – so I fooled myself – two or three good old letters from you. If you’ll believe me I got dam’all! I’ve cursed the mail service from right here all the way to your mail box. And now that I have raised hell I shall start and marshal my hope for to-morrow night or rather to-night for it is now almost half past two in the morning. A few minutes ago I went up to call the Turk but he looked so tired and was sleeping so soundly that I hadn’t the heart to disturb him. Presently I shall make some cocoa and fake up a snack and get him up to help eat it. Anyway I don’t feel so sleepy and so long as I sit here there will be no rat running across my face.

Friend cat and her family are well in bed with Turkey and the mother appears to be highly satisfied with her new quarters. Our chief worry now is moving them to-morrow night. The reasonable thing would be to leave them here but who knows what the next people who come in will do to cats. At present, I know, she entertains a very high opinion of Canadians and I do not want her to lose it. Lots of people have dogs but personally I could never bring a pet with me to this neck of [the] woods.

Baby, I think I must go to bed now – I’m too sleepy to make cocoa anyway. I shall finish my letter after I have slept. I just want some attention, that’s all. Goodnight Dearest, je t’aime.

Good morning, Madam. Comment allez plunk? I am in the pink refreshed and invigorated by a lot of slumber, breakfasted, shaved washed and fussed with only eight hours to wait until the mail arrives – everything looks ever so much better than it did last night. I was plenty pettish last, I expect but it won’t occur again, Dear, if you overlook it this once.

Did I ever tell you about Wallie Field? He used to be at the Echelon and came up here last summer. I saw him once, in September but lost sight of him afterwards. He sent me a card [at] Christmas and I wrote him. Last night I had a letter from him. He has been in England since October – went over to train for a commission fell down on it, is back in Reserve Depot and expects to be forced to revert to private to come over as a reinforcement! It is very sad for Wallie is a very fine chap. I think that his thirty eight years did the trick on him that and the fact that he had never drilled a day in his life. Poor old Wallie! I hope that he side steps coming out again. Although from all I hear of England well I want to stay in France. But as we are winning I expect that we will not be here much longer.

I haven’t told you yet, Dearest, that I am very much in love with you to-day. Does it come as a surprise at all, Dear, perhaps I have been too blunt, too outspoken. Anyway I couldn’t hold it any longer. I just had to say it. Are you mad or glad, Dear? I exercised great control merely saying that I was in love with you for as a matter of fact I am riotously wildly in love and I know that if I were with you today I should give you a very bad time. Are you afraid. Your own Ross