SECOND LONGSHOREMAN--Same here. [Johnny draws the lager and porter and sets the big, foaming schooners before them. They drink down half the contents and start to talk together hurriedly in low tones. The door on the left is swung open and Larry enters. He is a boyish, red-cheeked, rather good-looking young fellow of twenty or so.] LARRY--[Nodding to Johnny--cheerily.] Hello, boss. JOHNNY--Hello, Larry. [With a glance at his watch.] Just on time. [LARRY goes to the right behind the bar, takes off his coat, and puts on an apron.] FIRST LONGSHOREMAN--[Abruptly.] Let's drink up and get back to it. [They finish their drinks and go out left. The POSTMAN enters as they leave. He exchanges nods with JOHNNY and throws a letter on the bar.] THE POSTMAN--Addressed care of you, Johnny. Know him? JOHNNY--[Picks up the letter, adjusting his spectacles. LARRY comes and peers over his shoulders. JOHNNY reads very slowly.] Christopher Christopherson. THE POSTMAN--[Helpfully.] Square-head name. LARRY--Old Chris--that's who. JOHNNY--Oh, sure. I was forgetting Chris carried a hell of a name like that. Letters come here for him sometimes before, I remember now. Long time ago, though. THE POSTMAN--It'll get him all right then? JOHNNY--Sure thing. He comes here whenever he's in port. THE POSTMAN--[Turning to go.] Sailor, eh? JOHNNY--[With a grin.] Captain of a coal barge. THE POSTMAN--[Laughing.] Some job! Well, s'long. JOHNNY--S'long. I'll see he gets it. [The POSTMAN goes out. JOHNNY scrutinizes the letter.] You got good eyes, Larry. Where's it from? LARRY--[After a glance.] St. Paul. That'll be in Minnesota, I'm thinkin'. Looks like a woman's writing, too, the old divil! JOHNNY--He's got a daughter somewheres out West, I think he told me once. [He puts the letter on the cash register.] Come to think of it, I ain't seen old Chris in a dog's age. [Putting his overcoat on, he comes around the end of the bar.] Guess I'll be gettin' home. See you to-morrow.