"I d'know. But you did, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"Well, why didn't you read it to her? She's gettin' old, an' the older she gets, the crankier she gets. I guess it's up to us to humor her, for, one thing's certain, she won't humor us, an' there might as well be some fun in the house for some one."
Sam caught his lower lip between his teeth and held it there for a moment.
"There was nothing in Andy's letter would interest her. That is, there was no family news, or anything. 'Twas a business letter."
Martha proceeded with her work, dropping her questioning at once.
"Well, an' why wouldn't I be interested in me own son Andy's venturin', no matter if it is business, itself?" insisted the old woman querulously, when Martha repeated what Sam had said. "If that same Andy does be makin' a fortune, surely his own mother should be hearin' tell of it, first; leastwise, so she should in any God-fearin' fam'ly. But it's more like a heathen I'm treated now, than a Christian woman, that's raised a big crop o' childern till they'd be able fend for themselves. Andy is likeliest of the lot, an' now, when he's made his fortune, an' would be writin' his brother of his luck, his own mother would be told, 'It's only business!' the way she'll not take a natural joy in his triumphin', or, maybe, look to'm for a stray dollar, itself."
To all of which Martha made no reply.
But later, when Ma and the children were abed and asleep, she looked up from her mending to find Sam's eyes fixed on her in a stare of grim desperation.
"For a fella whose brother has just made his everlastin' fortune, you're the mournfullest party I ever struck," she quietly observed. "You're as glum-lookin' as one o' them ball-bearer undertakers at a funer'l. Cheer up! It ain't your funer'l! An' if you ain't made the fortune, your brother has, so it's all in the fam'ly, anyhow."