Their future would be glorious; he saw it in their eyes; he saw it in the beauty of their young heads. “You know,” he muttered, “you know quite well that your troubles are far more likely to weigh upon me than my own. Soon they came to treat Lucy almost as mother, pulling hard at her brown curls and laughing delightedly as they sprang back into their spiral shape. A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home. Hawk and Buzzard. “Go to the far corner,” he said, “and sing the last verse of Les Petites. That will be a fine day—it will have to be, when first you set eyes on Italy.
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