Dart takes a break from studying the poetry of James Russell Lowell to write a “brief” 8-page letter to Dot. When he finishes, he plans to return to Lowell and another essay by Emerson.
I find it amusing that Dart so greatly admires Lowell’s style. He praises the poet’s brevity and clarity of thought, his plain-spoken manner. His rhymes and meter are so natural that the reader soon forgets he is reading poetry, and just follows along as if reading a story. That Dart recognizes and values brevity, but is unable to produce it is a bit ironic.
He’s even looking forward to reading the Emerson essay for a change. This one is a character description of Emerson’s friend Thoreau, and was delayed until this late in class because the students just read Thoreau and can now feel they know him better through Emerson’s words and observations.
Dart’s hoping to find the magic bullet that will raise his grade in English from a C to an A. He asked his classmate and Dot’s former roommate, June how she managed to do just that. She answered that she had no earthly idea, but was mighty glad it had happened.
Pop is a great deal better today. He’s been taking his medicine without protest and has improved greatly since yesterday. Dart bought him a couple of magazines to read while he recuperates at home.
Today brought Dart’s first ride on one of the newest batch of streetcars. They are even better than the first 50 that were put into service a couple of months ago. Dart sure does get excited about streetcars, especially when they have arm rests, roll up windows, decent lighting and improved ventilation. The next batch of 50 cars, which were ordered this week, won’t be delivered until fall of 1948!
The Skyline was promised for today, but now the printer is saying it’ll be tomorrow. Whenever it arrives, he’ll send a copy off to Dot.
“I had two very nice letters from you today. It wasn’t very hard for you to get back into the habit of nice, chatty, newsy letters, was it? I LOVE those letters! Of course, some of that love is due to the big love I have for the girl who writes ’em.”
Now he’ll try to answer the eight-pager that Dot wrote on Jan. 8. He wonders if her appetite has improved since she wrote. Was she able to lose as much weight as she’d hoped? He assures her that he doesn’t need specifics, just a yes or no will suffice.
There’s still the question of ushers. Burke can’t make a Connecticut wedding if it’s on the 14th of June, and Homer can’t be there if it’s on the 19th. Although he’s eager to be an usher for Dart, Homer assures him that he will have no hard feelings if the date turns out to be the 19th. Dart hasn’t heard back from Tom Riley and he hasn’t even asked Hal Martin yet.
This brings Dart to a delicate question which he hates to pose so soon. With Janie’s passing, does Dot still plan on three bridesmaids, or is she down to two now? He wants his men to match the number of her women, so he’ll need to be kept in the loop. He also has a question about whether the maid of honor and the best man are included in the count for bridesmaids and ushers.
He’s been trying to come up with enough puns about stitches and surgery to match Dot’s, but he’s given up. (Or as he says, he’s been unable to sew up the task.) If I know Dot, she came up with some doozies.
Dart was very impressed to read about little Chuckie’s new Christmas train set. It must have set his father back “plenty heap wampum,” but Lionel is the best kind to get. Dart’s happy to report that his Lionel is still running after 18 years.
“So, you woke up sleeping on your stomach! Hmm. Quite a relief (and a bit of a worry, too) to find yourself beginning to act naturally again, after your operation.”
“I’ll never get over how considerate and how generous you are, Dot. You’d surely fit Mr. Kershner’s sermon of yesterday perfectly. The title was ‘Learn to Live with Yourself,’ and the main point was about making others happy or helping them in some way. That leaving your radio with the new patient at the hospital was surely an instance of that. I love you for things like that, Dot. It was equally nice for you to buy a new radio for your father.”
He asks Dot if she’s learned whether or not El’s funny look could mean she’s seen some of their letters. “Just between us, I think she’d understand and never say a thing.” He also thinks that if she did see something, it must have been by accident, because she (nor anyone in her family or his) has any tendency toward snooping. “How fortunate we are, Darling, to have families that trust each other, are trustworthy, and whose personal honor is so high.”
He’s glad she enjoyed his story called “High Finance.” He didn’t see much merit in it, but his teacher and the students gave it high praise. Now that his favorite letter – re-written – has been “ignominiously reject” by the Skyline staff, he thinks he’ll try to find some other material to submit to them for publication.
At last he comes again to her last paragraph – the one that elicited such passionate writing from him a few nights ago. It has the same effect on him tonight, and he writes a long section of intimate and tender thoughts, which will remain between them.
He wraps up with “Forgive me, my Darling Dorothy, for writing so dangerously. If anything should happen because of these letters, I deserve the worst of punishments. I love you always and forever.”