Hal. Dear daddy—dear flowers—aren't they lovely, mother?
Mrs. Hamilton. Yes, Hal. (She wipes away a tear, trying to conceal her emotions from her son.)
Hal. Maybe some day I'll be a famous botanist like papa and then you'll have two boxes. (Mother is silent trying to keep back the tears and Hal notices it.) Papa is coming home soon, isn't he, mother? (She just shakes her head.)
Mrs. Hamilton. We must be brave.
Hal. When I get big I'm going to be a soldier and be brave like daddy.
Mrs. Hamilton. That won't be necessary any more—it isn't the people who want to fight.
Hal. But daddy did and you bet if anybody makes me sore I'll fight too.
Mrs. Hamilton. No, my boy—daddy didn't want to fight——
Hal. Then why did he go?
Mrs. Hamilton. Hal, you're a little boy and wouldn't understand—but just remember what your mother tells you: Don't be selfish—be tolerant, honest and charitable to all the peoples of the world, the big and the small alike. (Enter passer-by who stops to look over plants. After Mrs. Hamilton has shown several and given him prices, he picks up the box of mignonettes.)