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? MARTHY--[Her curiosity also aroused.] What's that yuh got--a letter, fur Gawd's sake? CHRIS--[Pauses for a moment, after finishing the letter, as if to let the news sink in--then suddenly pounds his fist on the table with happy excitement.] Py yiminy! Yust tank, Anna say she's comin' here right avay! She gat sick on yob in St. Paul, she say. It's short letter, don't tal me much more'n dat. [Beaming.] Py golly, dat's good news all at one time for ole fallar! [Then turning to MARTHY, rather shamefacedly.] You know, Marthy, Ay've tole you Ay don't see my Anna since she vas little gel in Sveden five year ole. MARTHY--How old'll she be now? CHRIS--She must be--lat me see--she must be twenty year ole, py Yo! LARRY--[Surprised.] You've not seen her in fifteen years? CHRIS--[Suddenly growing somber--in a low tone.] No. Ven she vas little gel, Ay vas bo'sun on vindjammer. Ay never gat home only few time dem year. Ay'm fool sailor fallar. My voman--Anna's mother--she gat tired vait all time Sveden for me ven Ay don't never come. She come dis country, bring Anna, dey go out Minnesota, live with her cousins on farm. Den ven her mo'der die ven Ay vas on voyage, Ay tank it's better dem cousins keep Anna. Ay tank it's better Anna live on farm, den she don't know dat ole davil, sea, she don't know fader like me. LARRY--[With a wink at MARTHY.] This girl, now, 'll be marryin' a sailor herself, likely. It's in the blood. CHRIS--[Suddenly springing to his feet and smashing his fist on the table in a rage.] No, py God! She don't do dat! MARTHY--[Grasping her schooner hastily--angrily.] Hey, look out, yuh nut! Wanta spill my suds for me? LARRY--[Amazed.] Oho, what's up with you? Ain't you a sailor yourself now, and always been? CHRIS--[Slowly.] Dat's yust vhy Ay say it. [Forcing a smile.] Sailor vas all right fallar, but not for marry gel. No. Ay know dat. Anna's mo'der, she know it, too. LARRY--[As CHRIS remains sunk in gloomy reflection.] When is your daughter comin'? Soon? CHRIS--[Roused.] Py yiminy, Ay forgat. [Reads through the letter hurriedly.] She say she come right avay, dat's all. LARRY--She'll maybe be comin' here to look for you, I s'pose. [He returns to the bar, whistling. Left alone with MARTHY, who stares at him with a twinkle of malicious humor in her eyes, CHRIS suddenly becomes desperately ill-at-ease. He fidgets, then gets up hurriedly.]