MARTHY—[Grumblingly.] What yuh tryin' to do, Dutchy—keep me standin' out there all day? [She comes forward and sits at the table in the right corner, front.]
CHRIS—[Mollifyingly.] Ay'm sorry, Marthy. Ay talk to Yohnny. Ay forgat. What you goin' take for drink?
MARTHY—[Appeased.] Gimme a scoop of lager an' ale.
CHRIS—Ay go bring him back. [He returns to the bar.] Lager and ale for Marthy, Larry. Vhiskey for me. [He throws change on the bar.]
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.]