LARRY--Right you are. [Then remembering, he takes the letter from
in back of the bar.] Here's a letter for you--from St. Paul,
Minnesota--and a lady's writin'. [He grins.]

CHRIS--[Quickly--taking it.] Oh, den it come from my daughter,
Anna. She live dere. [He turns the letter over in his hands
uncertainly.] Ay don't gat letter from Anna--must be a year.

LARRY--[Jokingly.] That's a fine fairy tale to be tellin'--your
daughter! Sure I'll bet it's some bum.

CHRIS--[Soberly.] No. Dis come from Anna. [Engrossed by the letter
in his hand--uncertainly.] By golly, Ay tank Ay'm too drunk for
read dis letter from Anna. Ay tank Ay sat down for a minute. You
bring drinks in back room, Larry. [He goes into the room on
right.]

MARTHY--[Angrily.] Where's my lager an' ale, yuh big stiff?

CHRIS--[Preoccupied.] Larry bring him. [He sits down opposite her.
LARRY brings in the drinks and sets them on the table. He and
MARTHY exchange nods of recognition. LARRY stands looking at CHRIS
curiously. MARTHY takes a long draught of her schooner and heaves
a huge sigh of satisfaction, wiping her mouth with the back of her
hand. CHRIS stares at the letter for a moment--slowly opens it,
and, squinting his eyes, commences to read laboriously, his lips
moving as he spells out the words. As he reads his face lights up
with an expression of mingled joy and bewilderment.]

LARRY--Good news?