Wednesday Afternoon.
Aug. 9, 1939.

Dearest Sweetheart:

You have no idea how happy your letter made me this morning. I shall be eternally grateful to you for taking my last letter as good-naturedly as you did. After I mailed it it began to prey on my mind; I was afraid you might not take it as I intended it. When I received no reply by yesterday afternoon I became desperate. At eight last night I put in a station-to-station call for you at Kenwood 8479, and kept it in until 11:15, but no one answered. You must have already left on your trip. During the few hours that I slept I dreamed and dreamed about you – disturbing dreams. If your letter had not come this morning you would have received a telegram.

August 9, 1939

The letter you enclosed makes me very happy. I think it is well worded, and I hope it brings the desired results. I feel that you will never regret it.

We can hardly wait until next week to see you. We have had a good visit, but are ready to leave because we want to be with you. We are looking forward to the Mississippi trip.

The children were proud of their letters from you. Walter White stayed awake as late as he could last night, hoping to get to talk to you. Finally he gave up, and with specific instructions to me as to what I should tell you for him, he dropped to sleep.

You may not receive this until you reach Uvalde, but I just had to write.

I love you ever so much, Honey.

Always, your
Ina.