AUNT ISABEL: You dear little girl! (_again giving her a hug, which_ MADELINE _returns, lovingly_) Don't I know it's your birthday? Don't think that day will ever get by while your Aunt Isabel's around. Just see what's here for your birthday. (_hands her the package she is carrying_) MADELINE: (_with a gasp--suspecting from its shape_) Oh! (_her face aglow_) Why--_is_ it? AUNT ISABEL: (_laughing affectionately_) Foolish child, open it and see. (MADELINE _loosens the paper and pulls out a tennis racket_.) MADELINE: (_excited, and moved_) Oh, aunt Isabel! that was dear of you. I shouldn't have thought you'd--quite do that. AUNT ISABEL: I couldn't imagine Madeline without a racket. (_gathering up the paper, lightly reproachful_) But be a little careful of it, Madeline. It's meant for tennis balls. (_they laugh together_) MADELINE: (_making a return with it_) It's a _peach_. (_changing_) Wonder where I'll play now. AUNT ISABEL: Why, you'll play on the courts at Morton College. Who has a better right? MADELINE: Oh, I don't know. It's pretty much balled up, isn't it? AUNT ISABEL: Yes; we'll have to get it straightened out. (_gently_) It was really dreadful of you, Madeline, to rush out a second time. It isn't as if they were people who were anything to you. MADELINE: But, auntie, they are something to me. AUNT ISABEL: Oh, dear, that's what Horace said. MADELINE: What's what Horace said? AUNT ISABEL: That you must have a case on one of them. MADELINE: That's what Horace would say. That makes me sore! AUNT ISABEL: I'm sorry I spoke of it. Horace is absurd in some ways. MADELINE: He's a-- AUNT ISABEL: (_stopping it with her hand_) No, he isn't. He's a headstrong boy, but a very loving one. He's dear with me, Madeline. MADELINE: Yes. You are good to each other. (_her eyes are drawn to the cell_) AUNT ISABEL: Of course we are. We'd be a pretty poor sort if we weren't. And these are days when we have to stand together--all of us who are the same kind of people must stand together because the thing that makes us the same kind of people is threatened. MADELINE: Don't you think we're rather threatening it ourselves, auntie? AUNT ISABEL: Why, no, we're fighting for it. MADELINE: Fighting for what? AUNT ISABEL: For Americanism; for--democracy. MADELINE: Horace is fighting for it? AUNT ISABEL: Well, Horace does go at it as if it were a football game, but his heart's in the right place. MADELINE: Somehow, I don't seem to see my heart in that place. AUNT ISABEL: In what place? MADELINE: Where Horace's heart is. AUNT ISABEL: It's too bad you and Horace quarrel. But you and I don't quarrel, Madeline. MADELINE: (_again drawn to the cell_) No. You and I don't quarrel. (_she is troubled_) AUNT ISABEL: Funny child! Do you want us to? (MADELINE _turns, laughing a little, takes the dish from the table, holds it out to her aunt_.) MADELINE: Have some fudge, auntie.