 Well, she just thinks, well, Mom doesn't have a Sunday dress except for a summer one, and she'd feel funny. Well, that doesn't matter to us. Yeah, but it matters to her. Boy, it's awful to be poor. It's not that bad. You wouldn't be poor if your dad didn't drink. Poetry. Poetry's right, Bill. Yeah, but it's none of our business. That's okay. It's true. My brother doesn't help. He could work, but he doesn't.