February 5 Friday — In Redding, Conn. Sam wrote to Margaret Blackmer.
Good! I’ve heard from you at last. Often & often, in the last week or so, I have said to myself, “What can have become of my Margaret?” Yesterday I said to Miss Lyon “I mean to take paper & pen & give her a scolding.” She took no notice of it in words, but her unbelieving face said, “If Margaret waits till you scold her she'll have to wait a good while.” I suppose it’s true. In fact I know it is. On paper, anyway. Next time I'll take to the telephone.
Meantime I'll tell you what is the fact: you may always leave me letterless 3 weeks & I won't complain—then if you don’t write me, dear heart, something will happen! It will happen at the end of this month if I don’t hear from you, you busy little scamp.
You've been having very industrious good times, dear, & you are entirely excusable for not writing me.
We went down to New York 16 days ago, (Jan. 20) & we were going up to see you on the 23d, but Miss Lyon had to return home. I was ever so disappointed. She didn’t get back to New York. The doctor put her to bed, & she has never been out of it since.
We had a wireless from Benares [Ashcroft] yesterday, saying his ship would reach New York tomorrow (Saturday) in time for him to take the 3.32 for Stormfield. I wish you were coming with him. No—it wouldn’t do, you would get to flirting with him; & if I were not along he couldn’t protect himself.
Look at the handwriting of this enclosed letter. When I saw the superscription I was so glad! And then I found it wasn’t from you, after all. But dear me the resemblance is strong. Burn it, dear—I’ve answered it.
Yes, I'll give your love to Miss Lyon & Ashcroft, because you have been good & have given me more than you give to them.
Spring’s a-coming! Then you'll come, too, & your mother. And the Misses Tewksbury, too, I hope.
How are the cats? Oh, well, you ought to see Danbury! (I've forgotten the name you knew him by.) He is the handsomest creature afloat. And so wise, & so thoughtful. Night before last he made a spring & landed on the table & hit a ball a wipe with his paw just as Mr. Payne [sic] was delivering a shot. It lost Payne the game, and he was so aggravated! He got no chance to win another.
With lots of love, you dear child— / S L C [MTP;MTAq 247-8].