Dear Mr. Seely,

            I don’t know whether you have heard of Herbie’s illness or not. He got the (gupper) at Christmas time, didn’t recover, and after several doctors had examined him, they pronounced his condition as “pernicious anemia." He was (0 treatment of a a specialist for several weeks and as his response was so negative to all injections, etc. he was () to Jefferson Hospital for tests and observation.

    After being there two weeks, he had a severe relapse or upset and for nearly two weeks has been and still is in a () condition. We have four of the finest specialists in the country but they just can't seem to get the right medicine, or () that will start the blood count upward. As a last resort they are using blood transfusions. Oh! Mouse Fred. I'm nearly desperate. I can't lose him. We need him so, the two little boys and I. But things look so (back of page) dark just now. I just live from day to day hoping, hoping, hoping.

    I'm writing now to you an appeal for financial assistant. These transfusions must go on and they must be paid for. As well as hospital expenses, weekly. Mamma, as you know, can't help us. Herbie's mother is doing what she can. We have had several salary cuts in the last year and while the salary is (), it's just a "drop in the bucket." The doctors fees can be paid later, they are all being very generous with their time and their services with no immediate prospect of payment. But I'm just about (). Else I'd never call on anyone for help in these difficult times. I know how everyone turns to you for money, the () you have to meet, and it's only desperation and terror that drive me to add to your heavy burdens. Herbie, of course, doesn't know of this appeal, but we could call it a loan, and when, if he gets well, we'll pay you back.

    My poor mother fell and broke her hip last Thursday, is in () Hospital and will not walk for months, it seems just too much to hear. I'm so nervous I doubt if you can read this but I'm so heart sick. I don't know where to turn my pride is in the dust, what can I do. The doctor told me yesterday that Herbie didn't even have a 50/50 chance., but in my heart, I won't accept that. The only hope now is the blood transfusions and unless I can get some money, we can't carry them on.

    Anything you could spare would help, and I know you will help us if you can. If not, I'll know, too, that it's not because you are unwilling. There are burdens, I know, and one can't do the impossible.

With deepest affection always,

Lucy Scott Root

April 2, 1933