January 1st

Dearest Emily,

Whatever happened to that jolly girl I used to know with her delightful sense of whimsy? The maids (and I use that term loosely) are for hire just through the end of the week. The cows only require vetting, a speedy trip to the feed and grain store--my Uncle Thomas will happily supply the hay--and your gazebo by the croquet lawn would make a merry barn!

I think you're piffed because I cancelled out on our New Year's Eve plans. Admit it! I'm sure you spent a rollicking evening with your mother, moustache lady, who is such a giant of entertaining, sarcastic repartee.

Happy New Year! There are treats galore waiting for your further amusement.

Your udderly devoted,
Edward