Man. I'll take this box.
Mrs. Hamilton (confused, not knowing whether to tell stranger about that particular box of flowers or sell it, as she sorely needs money. Then she picks up another plant to show it.) Here's a very sturdy plant, sir.
Man. But I want this one. (Pointing to box of mignonettes.) How much is it? I'm in a hurry.
Hal (goes to stranger and takes box from his hands). You can't have them—they're daddy's.
Man (pushing him to one side). Get away from here, you little ruffian.
Mrs. Hamilton. That's my son, sir—he's not a ruffian. His father has not returned from the front and that——
Man (interrupting). Oh, yes—yes—we hear those stories every day now on every corner—it's the beggar's capital. (He walks away hurriedly, but Hal starts after with clenched fist.)
Mrs. Hamilton. Hal! Hal! What did mother tell you a few moments ago?
Hal (coming back). But he made me sore.
Mrs. Hamilton. What's the news—(Hal hands her a paper, kisses her and starts up street.)