Suburb of London. Three months after declaration of peace. Time: Noon.
CAST
Mrs. Claire Hamilton—about 35 years of age—portly—simply dressed.
Master Hal Hamilton—her son—about 10 years of age—full of life—dressed in Boy Scout uniform.
Mr. John Hamilton—soldier—botanist—about 39 years of age—tall—well built.
Sergeant, soldiers and pedestrians.
Claire Hamilton is seen fixing her corner flower stand and endeavoring to sell her plants to passers-by, but after three futile attempts she becomes tired of standing and takes seat on wooden bench in front of her stand. Takes letter from pocket—sighs and begins to read letter aloud.
Mrs. Hamilton (reading). "Dearest Love and Hal Boy—We are still in the bowels of hell—but even this would be nothing if I but knew my loved ones were well and happy. (She wipes away a tear and continues reading.) Nothing but a miracle can end this terrible war. Give my own dear Hallie boy a kiss from his longing papa." (She lays letter on her lap and meditates.) Peace (shakes her head—looks at date of letter.) February 16th—six months past and now it\'s all over—three months ago—Oh, God, bring him back to me and my boy. (She goes back of flower stand and brings out box of mignonettes. Hal comes running in with bundle of newspapers and very much excited—his sleeve is torn. He stands still and looks at mother rather proudly and defiantly.)
Mrs. Hamilton. Hal Boy—what\'s the trouble?
Hal. I licked Fritz.
Mrs. Hamilton. What for?
Hal. He said it took the whole world to lick the Germans.
Mrs. Hamilton. But, Hal, my boy—the war is over—you mustn\'t be hateful—be kind and forgiving.
Hal. Make them bring back my daddy then.
Mrs. Hamilton. You still have your mother—(Hal runs to mother and embraces her tenderly.)
Mrs. Hamilton. Whose birthday is it to-day? (He thinks—pause.) This is the 20th of August—now think hard. (She awaits answer—silence—then takes box of mignonettes.) Whose favorite flower is the mignonette?
Hal. Papa\'s! Papa\'s! (Claps his hands boyishly.)
Mrs. Hamilton. Yes, Hal—it\'s papa\'s birthday and mother is remembering the day by decorating our little stand with the flowers your papa has grown. (He caresses the mignonettes tenderly.)
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.)
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 ............