Sunday afternoon, June 3, 1934
Dear Mary:
I have a class of little girls in Sunday school, all aged nine, and they are very sweet. I told them that we would have a little visitor next Sunday and they were so delighted, and some of them asked me if they might write you this week, so if you receive any letters from little girls you need not be surprised.
I am enclosing you the program that we will have next Sunday, for it is Childrens’ Day all over the world, and is one of the two times in the year our whole Sunday school meets together in one group. The girls have written their names on the program so that you will know them. Little Helen Fung is a Chinese girl and never speaks a word unless I ask her a question and wait for her to answer. Then she speaks slowly and very beautifully, and with a great big smile. We are very fond of Helen, and we always excuse her if she is late as she brings two squirmy little brothers to Sunday school and takes them to the Primary Department — their names are Peter and John.
We have had a few very hot days, but yesterday is was cold, and today is too cool for comfort — but yesterday it was cold, and today is too cool for comfort — but no rain. There are 21 states feeling the effect of the drought and we wonder what the future holds.
We are expecting our daddy from Cleveland next Sunday. He will drive home with a friend. I have had my sister and her husband all of this week and we have been seeing the Fair — it is very very beautiful and I know that you are going to have a grand time. I want you to feel that you may return home at any time — I believe that you will enjoy yourself better if you know this, but you are invited to visit us all of your summer holidays, and mother mustn’t worry about your overstaying your welcome.
I hope your pink eye was not a fact, but if you should not be well enough to travel, just wait a day or two, but be sure to let us know. In that case we will make other reservations for you — and will meet you when you say. I am expecting a lot of company this summer but we have a special place for you, and you must not feel that you are in the way.
We enjoy your mother’s letters and Buddy’s — we will write to them every day — won’t we?
Unless I hear differently from you, Glen and I will be at the depot to meet you on Saturday, and you just can’t get lost, so try not to worry — everyone goes through one gate and we will be right there.
Last Thursday half a million children visited the Fair — the grounds were swamped. They ran out of water — two days later they were still cleaning up the rubbish from lunch baskets. They got in for five cents, and everything at the Fair cost five cents. So many went through the turnstiles, that they went out of order and then the gates were thrown wide open and the rest admitted free of charge. Chicago got the thrill of its life. All the schools closed so that the children might go to the Fair. I am glad I didn’t go. You and I will be real pals and I want you to tell me all of the things you would like to do and things you would like to see. I want to take you down into Chinatown and visit the Chinese stores — also to Hull House where the great Jane Addams lives when she is in Chicago. Ask mother to tell you about her.
Tell Buddy Glen that we would love to have the pup but I know he wouldn’t be happy chained up in a city — that’s no life for a dog.
I am counting on you coming with me to Sunday school and being one of the little girls in my class — Give my love to mother — she and daddy are pretty fine to let you come to us, and we do appreciate it and hope they won’t be sorry.
Much love,
Christine Shears
