Sunday Afternoon [22 June 1913]

My dear Husband:--

Everything is o.k. except I am so very lonesome without you. But, honey, you will have to turn a deaf ear to what I say in my letters about missing you. And don't let it worry you dear. You will have to do as Ulysses did in mythology when the sirens sang to him. Remember? Someone is singing "The Perfect Day." The days will all be perfect when we are together, won't they dearest? I hope your "walking advertisement" will help you a great deal.

Mamma's brother, Uncle Billie Beck in Wichita died Thurs. and I have been trying to keep Mamma in good spirits. There is only three of her family left: aunt Bess Gupton in Palmyra, uncle Frank Kiggins in Bozeman, Mont. and mother here. You know there was thirteen in her family counting Grandma and Grandpa; the same in yours and the same in papa's. Isn't that a coincidence? I know of one couple that the number in their family is not going to exceed the speed limit of TWO, in addition to the other two. Now, honey, don't ask who they are because you know I never did like to be personal. Ha! Ha!

Don't forget to answer what I asked you about the announcements. Mamma thinks if you come in August that we should announce our marriage then, and of course I will stay home then a few months longer, but she said if you came, then we wouldn't have to be on a nervous strain keeping people at sea, and could feel free to act as we cared to to have the best time.

Blanche Rogers was talking to me the other night. She said she had been hearing terrible things about me. That an osteopath had been camping down of our house. I said, "the idea of an osteopath. I thought they were all gone, aren't they?" And I don't think she knew what to say next. I think that she got her information from "Mother Magpie" (Mrs Selby) across the street from us. Blanche lives where Dr. J.W. Martin lived on Mc Pherson, and I can't see where else she obtained her news. Mrs Selby was over here last Sunday, and we were all in the swing. Mamma said Mrs. S. would think she was ruined to think she was so close to such a great secret and didn't know the truth about it.

This is a rainy Sunday. How I wish you were here so that we could love each other and none would disturb us.

Hope I get a long letter from you in the morning. If I do, I shall be delighted. Your letters are dear, dearest. And what you tell me in them, especially some things, make them sacred. I truly appreciate them, and they help me while away the time sometimes when I am lonesome for my darling boy.

Your loving wife,
Clara Gibson Lay

We will learn how to operate an oil stove some time won't we dear? Of course, I am used to gas, but I don't suppose there is a great deal of difference in the coal, oil and gas stove combinations, are there?

Has Mr. H decided to send the children here?

With love,
Clara