MADELINE: I think I'm an American. And for that reason I think I have something to say about America. EMIL: Huh! America'll lock you up for your pains. MADELINE: All right. If it's come to that, maybe I'd rather be a locked-up American than a free American. EMIL: I don't think you'd like the place, Madeline. There's not much tennis played there. Jesus--what's Hindus? MADELINE: You aren't really asking Jesus, are you, Emil? (_smiles_) You mightn't like his answer. EMIL: (_from the door_) Take a tip. Telephone your uncle. (_He goes_.) IRA: (_not looking at her_) There might be a fine, and they'd come down on me and take my land. MADELINE: Oh, no, father, I think not. Anyway, I have a little money of my own. Grandfather Morton left me something. Have you forgotten that? IRA: No. No, I know he left you something. (_the words seem to bother him_) I know he left you something. MADELINE: I get it to-day. (_wistfully_) This is my birthday, father. I'm twenty-one. IRA: Your birthday? Twenty-one? (_in pain_) Was that twenty-one years ago? (_it is not to his daughter this has turned him_) MADELINE: It's the first birthday I can remember that I haven't had a party. IRA: It was your Aunt Isabel gave you your parties. MADELINE: Yes. IRA: Well, you see now. MADELINE: (_stoutly_) Oh, well, I don't need a party. I'm grown up now. (_She reaches out for the old Hungarian dish on the table; holding it, she looks to her father, whose back is still turned. Her face tender, she is about to speak when he speaks_.) IRA: Grown up now--and going off and leaving me alone. You too--the last one. And--_what for? (turning, looking around the room as for those long gone_) There used to be so many in this house. My grandmother. She sat there. (_pointing to the place near the open door_) Fine days like this--in that chair (_points to the rocker_) she'd sit there--tell me stories of the Indians. Father. It wasn't ever lonely where father was. Then Madeline Fejevary--my Madeline came to this house. Lived with me in this house. Then one day she--walked out of this house. Through that door--through the field--out of this house. (_bitter silence_) Then Fred--out of this house. Now you. With Emil Johnson! (_insanely, and almost with relief at leaving things more sane_) Don't let him touch my corn. If he touches one kernel of this corn! (_with the suspicion of the tormented mind_) I wonder where he went? How do I know he went where he _said_ he was going? (_getting up_) I dunno as that south bin's locked. MADELINE: Oh--father! IRA: I'll find out. How do I know what he's doing? (_He goes out, turning left_. MADELINE _goes to the window and looks after him. A moment later, hearing someone at the door, she turns and finds her_ AUNT ISABEL, _who has appeared from right. Goes swiftly to her, hands out_.) MADELINE: Oh, _auntie_--I'm glad you came! It's my birthday, and I'm--lonely.