December 19, 1916.
Dearest girlie:
I received your long letter this morning, and know that you have been patiently awaiting mine in vain today; but this will undoubtedly reach you before nightfall today, and perhaps in a slight way make up for its absence this morning.
Yesterday was the hardest that I ever saw. My but there were several brain-racking problems to solve that kept me busy in Shelton alone till almost the whole day went by. And upon my arrival at Bridgeport at 4:30 I found several witnesses waiting for me to try a case that finished the afternoon, and immediately I met Mr. Kneen and several others at 6 at the Stratfield and went to a Past Masters Dinner and annual meeting that kept me till near twelve. When could I write? Do you know that I got a shave, by actual time, from 6:14 to 6:23 yesterday. You ought to see the fine collection of scratches on my physiog now as a result; but it's my fault, I suppose.
My plans for the week end this week are to get to New York Saturday afternoon about 5:36, as usual sometimes, and stay over till Monday night, and mayhap Tuesday morning. How's that? Too long, think you?
Of course Monday afternoon we'll see the Opera or hear it, which is correct?, and I have no other plans at present, except to leave it to your judgment. You see my reason is a good one. Yesterday morning when I went to Shelton, the cars were stalled for about half an hour in the morning (near 7:30) which means that I eat in the cold, and then for another hour or two, because the power was weak, dragged along in an icy car, so that I have one of the sweetest and cutest colds you ever saw. You are not to blame for this in the least, sitting a couple of hours in a very draughty car that has its windows all frozen up, and where it seems that the atmosphere is worse inside than out by far, is a good way to get a cold. There are no cuss words on the typewriter so cannot express my feelings the way the occasion would seem to justify it.
Tomorrow, I have a meeting of the special committee to arrange for our Bar Banquet for February, at five o’clock, and don't know just when we'll get through. It's a sure thing that I cannot get away till around six, and that would get me into New York somewhere by eight, if the trains are running on time. Do you think I should make it? I'll think it over and see how matters develop; and if the opportunity presents itself, I’ll run down to the big city to see my little girl.
As for New Year, that is another problem. As I have already told you, I am expected at Shelton on the first at ten o’clock. There is a train out of New York Monday morning at about 7:40 that gets to Bridgeport about 9:18 and to Derby about 9:40 to get me over the River in time; but I'd have to stay at the Club in order to make a train that early. And I really feel that I'd probably return to New York for the rest of the day, what do you know of it? Or do you think that I should rather leave Sunday night as usual, and so not rush, and come back Monday afternoon for the day? The idea to eat the New Year meal or whatever you call it in your house is not a bad idea at all. One thing sure, we would have real good food, a real homelike party, and all the fun we could make, perhaps without the usual bunch of drunks that you'll run into at any kind of a celebration on such occasions; but I'll try anything like the party you suggest once, and will the arrangements in your hands. Whatever will please you will make me happy, so go to it. If you would rather go out, I'm satisfied, but talk it over with the folks, and decide and I'll probably see you in a day or two and we can then go over the matter; but if it requires immediate action for tickets etc. why you are well qualified to attend to it. Believe me, I’d like to take a trip around the world with you beginning at once, but it cannot be done now, so why should a little thing like a New Year's celebration bother me?
The clippings are fine especially the underscored parts, and I'll read them over again this evening, though I saw them already.
Do you notice that the keys sometimes look blurred? It is because I am thinking of so much to say that my fingers cannot write fast enough and sometimes (too frequently) three or four keys will jump up at once and get stuck together, which makes me grit my teeth, and utter your rather now usual expression of dissatisfaction.
Mr. Kneen suggested that he is going to Boston tomorrow on City matters, and inquired whether I had the day open. He would probably leave on the midnight train, but is not certain himself
as yet, so that I do not see how I can get away this time of the year unless it is urgent.
I shall try this afternoon, if I have a few moments, to see what's what about a house in Shelton again. I think and talk considerably about it, and try to land something, but so far have nothing very tangible. Isn't it peculiar? I'll get mad pretty soon, and then-well, maybe I'll get one without getting mad.
Rather a long letter for Tuesday; but you deserve it.
I'm awfully hungry and will go out to lunch now, and incidentally, mail this letter to you.
With heaps of love and kisses, till I see you again, I am
Your
Joe
The next letter is December 21
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