What if Mother should see us?
A romance is developing between George Townsend and Una Jones. It began on the evening train from Flinders St Melbourne to the suburb of Hawthorn (see George’s earlier correspondence posted under “Letters”). In this letter George almost dares to tell Una what he thinks of her. Such politeness, such shyness.
28th October 1914
Dear Little “Girl in the Train”
That really was a very nice way of heading your letter, (Thank you).
I knew you were nice long ago, as a matter of fact that was my first opinion of you, and lately have had cause to magnify it.
When I can muster up enough courage, and when there is no danger of being overheard, I should like to tell you exactly what I think of you. I don’t know how you would take it. You might be pleased and - well you might not! I wonder?
Flinders St Station will be a dreary hole to-night, and the train will be full of horribly uninteresting people.
I only hope Heckle will catch it.
Still, Thursday’s train is not so very far away; I think I can just manage to hold up till then.
My motto has been, “Never do anything you would be ashamed to be seen doing, by your Mother.”
I can still adhere to it, because if Mother did see me with you, I might be a bit flustered, but I certainly would not be ashamed.
Please do not drop your theory, I think it only needs a little modification.
As to our mutual inability to write what we would like to say, perhaps, if you were not angry with me when I try to express my thoughts of you; you might tell me what you guessed.
Reverting to your quotation “The time has come” etc; May I beg to stat that I never read fairy tales, though I confess to having struggled through “Alice in Wonderland”.
Being more than satisfied for the nonce.
Yours Truly
Geo Townsend
P.S. On looking at your letter I am more & more ashamed of my scawl, but cannot help it. “The Reasonable Boy in Brown” (I like that).
P.S.S. I have fond memories of “a Pretty Little Girl in Blue” (That is also part of a colour scheme)
P.P.S.S. Do you know what you reminded me of on Saturday morning. The picture on the front of a book by Myrtle Reed called “Lavender and Old Lace” of a sweetly pretty girl in a flounced light blue frock (Don’t be annoyed please).