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Thursday, January 3rd, 1918

My Dear Hattie,-

On New Year's day I wrote you a long letter, all "by hand," but before it reached the box there came one from George and another from you which made my letter, as I told George "old stuff" and I shall have to try again-  but my eyes say no to another by hand. 

Of course the proper attitude of all prospective mothers-in-law is to appear very much surprised-actually amazed-to think that their son or daughter should have even thought of such a thing as getting married-therefore I am very much surprised- altho this time is genuine- not at your marrying, but at the soonness of it. It just means a hustle up for all of us, doesn't it?

And George tells me too that he wants to come up to Chicago and meet you here, if he can get a leave of absence, and for fear you have not sufficiently understood from "Pa's" letters, that we shall be very glad to have you, I hereby extend to you the sincere welcome of the Weaver clan, whenever and for whatever reason you wish to come.

If my pen has not been agile, my thoughts have, and have been much and often with you, but I have hesitated at putting them on paper for fear that you might read into the written word a meaning my pen had not intended. I want you to come among us without a shadow of misunderstanding, or hurt, and I have wanted to be more than ordinarily cautious of this because of a heartsickening experience of my own. Just a few little words in a letter to George's father, which he thoughtlessly showed to me, and which at the time I laughed at-but-somehow those words fastened themselves in my mind and grew in importance and meaning until they have made me, and other as well, Iam afraid, a great deal of misery. Once such an idea gets fixed, no explanation is of use.  

But my dear, dear little girl, believe me now and always, that we want you and are looking forward to your advent with great, joy- though at the same time not forgetting that our joy is likely to be the sorrow and lonesomeness of your own dear people.

And now as to your plans- I know the words spring to my lips, as they probably do to your Mother's- "Oh wait a little while longer" but for no reason other than your interest- I might wish for your sake that George were a little better established as an income producer- altho that is a matter of speculation. Should the war preparations suddenly have no further need of him I suppose the areoplane industry will continue to be the "coming" thing-altho I have never become at all enthused on the subject. Dry land looks good to me. 
 
Now is this dampening to your spirits-I have not intended it so- I just had to have some excuse for suggesting that you wait, and that was handy in my mind-because it's my old standby.

I have today written George this- but it is only a suggestion as I am a "passenger" in this excursion-that if he has a week's furlough, beginning on Sunday, say-that he come to Chgo. getting here possibly on Tuesday- you start from your home to get here about the same time. You and he spend the days in between that and Saturday in sightseeing-some shopping perhaps-getting acquainted with your new relatives- Then on that day have a nice little private, quiet ceremony possibly performed by the same Minister who married us, and go at once to your own fireside.

I have stopped just a minute to cry a little-my little Georgie-why I hardly know him. The three years he has been away are the years in which he has "grown up" and I feel that he has given the best of his life to others- and Oh, how my heart cries out for his companionship-I want to know and visit with "my own", like unto which there