My walk to the office this morning after papa's mail was well rewarded by your letter. Charlie Darwin was there posting eight dozens of his circulars. He is perfectly jubilant over his prospects, and he had to walk home with me to tell all about them. He said he was going along my way, and if I didn't mind, as it was very slippery—Of course I said I didn't, so I put your letter into my pocket and waited for a good time to read it.
It's very funny how you wear my letters out so soon. I wonder why they don't make note paper like the tough paper that is used in little Paul's Baby Goose picture book.
I had a fine time at our Church Fair last night. Mrs. Sullivan changed her mind at the last, and had me serve as Rebecca at the Well, while Maggie presided at the candy booth, just as she had wanted to. Guess how many glasses of lemonade I sold. One hundred and seventeen. Charlie Darwin drank eight. Do you think you could have swallowed as many as that, Alfred?
I am keeping up my practicing pretty well, that is, I practice an hour a day, except the days I write to you. Would you rather have me practice every day? You know, I am keeping up my piano only because you are so anxious to have me, and I want you to be satisfied. People think I am getting on very nicely.
The sleigh ride was grand. All the girls went, and nearly all the boys. Phillip Small could not get permission to go. It was a perfect shame. Every one missed him. We had a fine supper at the Davidsons' old place.
Oh, Alfred, I wish you could come home for Christmas. It will be so lonely and dismal for you, away off by yourself, and it won't seem at all like Christmas here without you. How I long to see you! There is so much to tell. Do you remember last Christmas, dearest? Mamma is trying to send me to bed, so I must stop writing. But I haven't answered all your questions. Oh, Al. dear, are you never satisfied? What do you suppose Charlie said to me this morning? "Daisy, you're all heart—just one big heart." Doesn't that sound like him? And there wasn't anything to lead up to it. I was weighed last Wednesday at the butcher's. Guess how much? 122 pounds. There, mamma is calling. Good night, Al. But I was going to answer your question how much I love you. If Charlie and the scales spoke the truth I think about 122 pounds. But then, Charlie was only joking. He doesn't mean half he says. Do you think so?
Your affectionate
Daisy.
239. To a Lady to Whom the Writer is Engaged, Asking Her to Name the Day.
N——, October 30, 19—.