with mingled sorrow and hope in their hearts, bade goodbye to their little sons and sent them across the sea, offerings of love to parents of whom both son and daughter remembered nothing but love and kindness, yet from whom that son and daughter were estranged by a poisonous thing called Hate.
III
𝕋WO little boys were playing together on a beach. One gazed across the sea with wondering eyes. A thought had come—a memory.
"Where are father and mother?" he asked, turning to his brother.
The other little boy gazed bewilderedly back at him and echoed:
"Where are father and mother?"
Then the two little fellows sat down in the sand and began to talk to one another in a queer little old-fashioned way of their own.
"Grandfathers and grandmothers are very good," said Little Waking Eyes.
"Very good," repeated Little Sleeping Eyes.
"They give us lots of nice things."
"Lots of nice things!"
"Balls and balloons and puff puffs and kitties."
