LETTERS
Miss Nan Carter from Mr. Thomas Smith
BY WIRELESS FROM THE CLOUDS,
SEPTEMBER .., 19..
MY DEAR WOOD NYMPH:
I have made many flights and many landings but no landing has been so
delightful as the one I made on Helicon and no flight so beautiful as
when a certain little wood nymph deigned to accompany me.
I think very often of the few happy days I spent at Week-End Camp and of
the hospitable Carters. The picnic on the fallen tree was the very best
picnic I ever attended and the game of teakettle the best game I ever
played.
Some day, and not so many years hence I hope it will be, I intend to
make a flight and take my teakettle with me. Guess what that word is!
BELLEROPHON.
Miss Douglas Carter from Mr. Lewis Somerville
BROWNSVILLE, TEXAS, SEPTEMBER .., 19..
MY DEAR DOUGLAS:
Your letter telling of the doings of the camp made Bill and me mighty
blue. We think maybe we should not have left you when we did, but we
felt we were getting too soft hanging round you girls all the time, and
then, too, we wanted to let Uncle Sam know that we were willing to do
any kind of old work that came up to do. If he wanted to ship us from
West Point, all well and good--that was his own affair, but we feel that
since he has given us three years' education we must pay him back
somehow, and enlisting is about the only way we can do it. At first we
thought perhaps it had better be with the volunteers, and then we
thought maybe the regulars could do better service, so regulars it is.
It does seem funny to be in the ranks when we had always expected to be
officers, but that is all right--we are not grouching. No doubt it is
good for us. At least we can get the outlook of the private, and if
because of bravery or luck we ever rise from the ranks, we can better
understand the men under us.
It is awfully hot down here but just when it is so hot that you feel you
must turn over on the other side to keep from burning and to brown
evenly, why a wind comes up they call "a norther" and you sizzle like a
red hot poker stuck into cold water. A norther is about the coldest and
most penetrating thing I have ever struck. We never seem to catch cold,
however. The norther blows all the germs off of one, I fancy.
Bill is fine. Already he is known by his guffaw. He let out a laugh the
other day that made General Funston jump, and I can tell you that is
going some. Not many people can lay claim to the distinction of having
made that great man jump. I think they ought to send Bill out to hunt
Villa. If that bandit is hiding in the mountains, I bet Bill could laugh
loud enough to make him peep out to see what's up. He's mighty soft on
Tillie Wingo and carries her tin-type around his neck.
I want to tell you, dear Douglas, that I think you were just exactly
right to turn me down the way you did. I am ashamed of myself to have
asked you to think of me when I realize how far I am from success. I may
be a private for the rest of my life and what could I offer a girl like
you? I know it wasn't that that kept you from being engaged to me, but
it would have been very ridiculous for me to have bound you by a promise
when I may be old and gray-headed before I even get a sergeant's
stripes.
Please write to me when you find time and tell me what the plans are for
the winter. I wish I could help you some, but about all I am good for is
to keep the Mexicans from getting into Texas and maybe finding their way
up to Virginia, where you are. I feel about as big as a grain of sand
on a Texan prairie. My love to all the Carters.
Your very affectionate cousin,
LEWIS SOMERVILLE.
Miss Helen Carter from Dr. George Wright
RICHMOND, VA., SEPTEMBER .., 19..
MY DEAR MISS HELEN:
The thought of having wounded you is very bitter to me. I did not mean
to be unkind either to you or your mother. I know you must wish you had
never seen me. I seem to have spent my time since I first met you making
myself unpleasant. If you can forgive me, please write and say so. I
hope your mother is better and that her appetite has returned. If I can
be of any service to you at any time and in any way, you must call on
me.
Very sincerely,
GEORGE WRIGHT.
Miss Lucy Carter from Frank Maury
RICHMOND, VA., SEPTEMBER .., 19..
DEAR LUCY:
Not much on writing but here goes. Skeeter and I took Lil to the movies
last night and we wished for you some. Movies don't touch the tramps in
the mountains but they are better than nothing. When are you going to
leave those diggings and come back to the good old burg? Skeeter ate
three cream puffs and two ice cream cones after the show and washed them
down with a couple of chocolate milk shakes. Mrs. Halsey says she may
have to go to boarding to fill her hopeful up. I pity the boardinghouse
keeper. The worst thing about Skeeter is that he never shows his keep.
After all those weeks in the mountains and all those good eats he is as
skinny as ever. Do you ever see Mr. Spring-keeper and Tom Tit? I sent
Tom Tit a rag time record for his new Victrola. It is a peach and I bet
it will set him to dancing to beat a jew's-harp. Lil, who is mighty
missish, says Tom Tit has too good taste to like such common music but I
just know he will like it. Skeeter sends his regards. He and I are both
to have military training at the high school so you will see us in
skimpy blue gray uniforms when you come back to Richmond. Skeeter looks
powerful skinny in his. I don't know what I look like in mine.
Yours truly,
FRANK MAURY.
The silence of September settled down upon Camp Carter. The mountains
had never been more glorious nor a period of rest and recreation more
welcome. Noise, numbers, confusion--all were conspicuously absent. To
look back was gratifying and to feel an inward sense of "well done!" was
satisfying.
The summer was over for the Carter girls but their work was by no means
finished. Unforeseen obstacles were no doubt to be met and overcome;
many problems were to puzzle them and hard lessons were to be learned.
But at the same time happy days were to be in store for them, their
lives, like all of ours, a mixture of sunshine and shadow, work and
play. They looked toward the future with eager hope. In "The Carter
Girls' Mysterious Neighbors" we will hear how they came in touch with
some of the wide-reaching events of the world war.
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Transcriber's Note
In this text-version italics has been indicated with _italics_ and
bold with =bold=. Small capitals has been changed to all capitals.
A few obvious printer's errors have been corrected. Otherwise the
original has been preserved, including inconsistencies in spelling,
hyphenation or accentuation.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Carter Girls' Week-End Camp, by Nell Speed