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.” Then all the crowd must see it and there was a picture of a fat whiskered general on the paper and when the gossip saw it she cried out aghast, “Why, goodwife, how your man is changed!” for she supposed it was a picture of the man himself, and none of them was sure it was not except the woman and she said, “It is not my man, I know.” And the letter writer guessed and said, “Doubtless it is his master.” And so they all looked at it again and cried how rich and fed he looked. Thus all the crowd were silent with wonder and with envy, and they watched while the mother folded the bit of precious paper into her hand and held it there closely. So was the letter read and when the old man had finished it and folded it into its case again, he said gravely, “You are a very lucky wife and it is not every countrywoman whose man could go into a great city and find so good a place, or who if he did would send back his wage like that either, and so many places as I hear there are in towns to spend money in.” Then all the crowd fell back in respect for her, and she walked proudly home, the children following her and sharing in their mother’s glory, and when the mother was come she told it all to the old mother and especially did the old soul laugh with pleasure to hear what her son said of the third shroud and she cried out in her trembling, cracking voice and struck her skinny knees with pleasure, “That son of mine! I do swear there was never one like him! And doubtless that town stuff is very fine good stuff.” Then she grew a trifle grave and she said wistfully, “Aye, daughter, if it be as good as he says, I doubt I can wear it out before I die. It may be that one will be my last shroud.” The lad looked grave, too, when he saw his grandmother look so, and he cried loyally, “No, grandmother, it will not, for you have lasted two, and this one cannot be as strong as two!” Then the old soul was cheered again and laughed to hear the boy so clever, and she said to the mother, “Very well you remembered all he said, daughter, and almost as if you read the words yourself.”