Dart  begins by warning Dot that this is another of the kind of letter he’s been writing more of lately. He’s not in a very good mood and he feels lousy. He predicts he’ll feel better after writing a few sour remarks.

There is some dubious good news, although the way Dart feels physically, it’s not so good. He has been returned to his former ward because his mumps quarantine is over. Dr. Pumphrey has declared his cyst healed and fit for duty. The other doctors at Ward 85 will decide his fate after they meet with him. Here’s the rub: the ward doctors have a reputation of sending everyone back to active duty as soon as possible. Dart is eager to get back to life, but his legs get rubbery, his heart pounds and he gets winded at the slightest exertion. He fears that if he’s discharged to boot camp now he’ll be back in the hospital soon, in far worse shape.

Dart says this could be a turning point for his luck and he has an inescapable inkling that his luck will get worse. He tells Dot not to give him any blarney about his positive spirit, because he doesn’t have that now!

Now on to her letter – He likes her sharp new stationery. He’s impressed by her 24-hour day and jokes about her getting time and a half for any hours over eight.  He assumes young Chuck will be disappointed that he can’t play with his baby sister right away.

Dart agrees with her that too many teens are getting engaged to be married – often with disastrous results. He’s sure that his friends John and Sally are in this for good and that they’ll make a success of it. Still, they have no money in the bank and no idea what comes next in their lives. Dart has ideas about things he’d like to have in place before he would ever make the leap to engagement and marriage. He says Dot figures into his plans, but that the time is inappropriate to air those plans right now . They’ll keep for a later date.

His final paragraph announces “That was just what I needed. Just write it down, embellish it a bit, add some amorous thoughts, whip it up and serve it on paper to my love. That’s you. You’re a tonic.”

Dot begins her letter by quoting a book or an article she is reading. “There is nothing that brings two people closer together than separation.”  How happy she is to hear that, because she wouldn’t want them to get tired of each other. “Fat chance of that happening,” she adds.

“Wait for you?,” she asks. There is absolutely no alternative. First, all the unattached males in her life are either toddlers or supported by a cane. Second, she has no interest in anyone else. She has strong ideas about the perfect man for her, and all such men currently reside at Great Lakes, Illinois.

She’s spending tonight at a different house caring for two young children. Having made $12.00 this week by babysitting, she claims to be considering a child care business called “Dot’s School for Tots.” Or “If You Don’t Care How Your Kids are Brung Up, Bring ’em to Dot’s.” She tells Dart that she loves kids so much that she’d consider adopting a slew of them just to hear their chatter.

She tells of a hot and humid day at the store. Even the wrapping paper was soggy. She’s decided that hot, cranky customers and sleepy, crank y Dot are not a good combination, so she’s trying to get more sleep this weekend.

Once more, she asks Dart to forgive her for always writing to him when she is so tired, but late night is the only time she can manage to squeeze in a little time. She wants to send him another care package, but she has no idea what to include. With tongue firmly planted in cheek, she suggests jaw-breakers. She asks him for ideas. “The more unusual the request, the better I like it.”