June 21, 1939

Dear Frankie, who I remember very well,

You’ll be relieved to know that all of my fingers are working just fine. Aunt Dottie won’t let me near the tractor, which is all right by me. Incidentally, you shouldn’t make a joke about such a thing. There are people who have lost fingers and other parts in tractor accidents, and I’m sure they wouldn’t find that very funny.

Anyway, I’m sorry I haven’t written, but I’ve been so busy settling into my new schedule here I barely have time for myself. Aunt Dottie, as it turns out, is quite strict. I have to get up at six o’ clock to feed the chickens and turn the horses out to pasture. Then there are chores around the house, weeding the vegetable garden, cleaning the horses’ stalls, and then and then and then and then . . .

My afternoons are free, so I really shouldn’t complain, but lately I’ve been so tired from the morning activities that I fall asleep in a chair and don’t wake up until suppertime. I think I now know how it feels to be Grandma Engel. (But please don’t tell her I said that.)

Tell me how the restaurant is going. I bet it’s really exciting. Will you get to work the cash register or seat the customers? Are you taking good care of Dixie? How’s Bismarck?

Give my love to them and to Daddy and Mother, too. And Grandma Engel, of course. And everyone else. Even Elizabeth.

Oh, I miss you so.

With sisterly love,

Joan

P.S. Have you seen that no-good Leroy Price much?