The mother

by Pearl S. Buck

And again the old man wrote and she said when she had thought a while, “One more thing there is he is to say. Say, ‘Tell my old mother I shall bring red stuff for her third shroud when I come, as good stout stuff as can be bought.’”

So the letter was complete and the old man signed the letter and sealed it and set the superscription and he spat upon a stamp and put it on, and said that he would post it in the place he knew. And she paid his fee and went home, and this was the thing she had plotted when she wiped her tears away.

VI

SOME seven days after that day a letter carrier who carried letters in a bag upon his shoulder passed by, a new thing in these later days, for in old days there were no such men, and to the folk of this hamlet it was ever a magic miracle that letters could be come by like this, but so they were, nevertheless. And now this man took a letter from his bag and held it and he stared at the mother and he said, “Are you the wife of one surnamed Li?”

Then she knew her letter had come and she said, “I am that one,” and he said, “Then this is yours and it is from your man, wherever he is, for his name is written there.” So he gave her the letter.

Then she made herself cry out and she summoned false joy somehow and she cried to the old woman, “Here is a letter from your son!” And to the children she said, “Here is your father’s letter come!” They could scarcely wait until it was read, and the woman washed herself and put on a clean coat and combed her hair smoothly, and while she did she heard the old mother call out to the cousin’s wife, “My son’s letter is come!” and when she had said it she laughed and fell to coughing and laughing until the cousin’s wife across the way grew frightened at such a turmoil in the weak old body and ran over and rubbed her back and cried in her hearty kind way, “Good mother, do not let it kill you, I pray!” And when the mother came out clean and smiling she said in her same way, “Here be this old crone choking herself because a letter is come!” and the mother made her smile shine out and she said, “So it has and here it is,” and held the letter out for the other one to see.

When she went down the street they all came crowding with her as she went, for the lad followed grinning and saying to all who asked that his father’s letter was come, and the little girl came after him, clinging to his coat, and since it was winter still and little to be done, the idle men and women followed, too, and they all crowded to the letter writer’s house, who was astonished at such a houseful coming in so suddenly. But when he heard what the matter was he took the letter and studied it a while and he turned it this way and that and stared at it, and at last he said gravely and as the first thing to be said, “It is from your husband.”

“That I guessed,” the mother said, and the gossip who was in the crowd called out, “And what other man would it be, good man?” And all the crowd roared with ready laughter.

Then the letter writer began to read the letter to her slowly and silence fell and the mother listened and the children and all the crowd, and at every word he paused to explain its full meaning, partly because it is true written and spoken words are not the same, but partly, too, to show how learned he was. And the mother listened as though she had never heard one word of it before, and she nodded at every word, and when he came to that place where it said there was money sent, the man raised his voice very loud and clear at such a serious thing, and those in the crowd gaped and cried out, “But was there money in it?” Then the woman nodded and she opened her hand and showed the paper piece into which she had changed her own silver, and she gave it to the letter writer to see, and he said hushed and solemnly, “It is true I see a ten, and it must be it is worth ten pieces of silver.”