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: