Saturday Nite.
Nov. 7, 1925.

My dearest Walter:

First and foremost I have a weather report to make. I didn’t write you last night nor the night before because, on account of the rains, none of us could get in town to mail you the letter I had written you Wednesday night. I didn’t even get to make that talk to the ladies of the Missionary Society Thursday afternoon. What a loss! I wonder if the poor women realize what a wonderful opportunity they missed all on account of the weather? But, be that as it may, we appreciated the showers very much. It has turned cooler, faired off, and everything looks so pretty and fresh and green. Of course we are situated in a mud puddle when it rains the least bit, and are in a position to appreciate beautiful drying sunshine after plenty of moisture. We have been in Texas so long that we just naturally enjoy this sunshine that is usually with us.

November 7, 1925

Your letter of Wednesday nite came this afternoon. From a selfish point of view, I was glad I didn’t go to the post office those other two days because there would have been nothing but an empty box to greet me until today.

I love you, Sweetheart.

Goodnight and sweet dreams.

Always, your
Ina.