May 26, 1898
From: William A Gray
To: Ruth Barrell
My dear Ruthy:
The picture in my mind just now is your sitting room, with you its conspicuous
occupant, engaged at your music or perhaps puzzling over harmonious combinations of
colors in your fancy work, in any event well, and happy as usual.
Just think, Dearest, I haven’t seen or heard a word of you since Monday morning,
and here it is nearing Friday, four of the longest days I think I’ve ever put in. If I only knew
you were well, this separation would be more tolerable. I must assure myself that you are
well and remember how busy a girl you are and that I shouldn’t expect to hear form you, in
weather like this, when it is so disagreeable for anybody to go out, anyway.
Such weather, Ruth, but for it I would have run over to see you tonight, and found
you a well, happy girl with lots of kisses for me and love looking out of those dear bright
eyes. I do so want you tonight, Dear, that I have, I guess, grown fretful, because of the
conditions that have prevented me fulfilling my desire which accounts for what you might
construe as a complaining strain in some of the preceding lines of this letter. Pardon, me,
Ruthy. It is this weather and because I love you so.
This weather problem is becoming a serious one, but we’ll forgive it all if Saturday
will dawn bright and clear, so our first opportunity of being together for a week will be
marked by some rare good times, for it will be quite a long holiday for us and it will be a
mean shame if the weather doesn’t do its share.
Well Ruthy, I don’t know of anything new to tell you. It has been work, work, work
since I left you with nothing in between but my meals and some sleep. Got home a little
after midnight yesterday, and was too sleepy to work late again tonight. I am away behind,
but can’t help it. Had another talk with Mr Kinney, the manager, and the arrangement he
has in view, and one I suggested as a solution of our office problem, promises to make it
comparatively easy for me in the near future. I will have little or no routine work to do, but
will look after things in general, Jack of all trades as it were. I put in last night, not on my
own work at all, but made a long stencil on the typewriter, and struck off 100 copies on the
mimeograph. There was nobody else to do it, or who could do it, in the absence of our
“Brick Top,” so it fell back on me.
Going to lunch today, I met Tom Myrick, who asked to be remembered to all of you.
He looked greatly improved in health over the last time I saw him and said he was feeling
very much better. Austin has the whooping cough, by way of variety and is home from
Ruthy, Dearest, I wish I had some time to read, so as to have some new theme to
write about, a poem to quote, or something to construct a nice letter upon. But my reading
days or nights will have to be, for the time being, postponed, and perhaps when the time
comes when I can indulge in literature to some extent, our writing days will be past or at
least our being almost constantly together, will obviate the necessity for.
I must leave you now Pet or rather say good night, for I still cherish the privilege of
having a last kiss good night before closing my eyes in slumber. I sincerely hope you are
very well and are not hurting yourself house cleaning or at anything else. Be good to
yourself, Dearest, and accept my best love and wishes and some kisses besides.