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.

AUNT ISABEL: (_taking the dish_) Do you _use_ them?--the old Hungarian
dishes? (_laughingly_) I'm not allowed to--your uncle is so choice of
the few pieces we have. And here are you with fudge in one of them.

MADELINE: I made the fudge because--oh, I don't know, I had to do
something to celebrate my birthday.

AUNT ISABEL: (_under her breath_) Dearie!

MADELINE: And then that didn't seem to--make a birthday, so I happened
to see this, way up on a top shelf, and I remembered that it was my
mother's. It was nice to get it down and use it--almost as if mother was
giving me a birthday present.

AUNT ISABEL: And how she would love to give you a birthday present.

MADELINE: It was her mother's, I suppose, and they brought it from
Hungary.

AUNT ISABEL: Yes. They brought only a very few things with them, and
left--oh, so many beautiful ones behind.

MADELINE: (_quietly_) Rather nice of them, wasn't it? (_her aunt waits
inquiringly_) To leave their own beautiful things--their own beautiful
life behind--simply because they believed life should be more beautiful
for more people.

AUNT ISABEL: (_with constraint_) Yes. (_gayly turning it_) Well, now, as
to the birthday. What do you suppose Sarah is doing this instant?
Putting red frosting on white frosting, (_writing it with her finger_)
Madeline. And what do you suppose Horace is doing? (_this a little
reproachfully_) Running around buying twenty-one red candles.
Twenty-two--one to grow on. Big birthday cake. Party to-night.

MADELINE: But, auntie, I don't see how I can be there.

AUNT ISABEL: Listen, dear. Now, we've got to use our wits and all pull
together. Of course we'd do anything in the world rather than see
you--left to outsiders. I've never seen your uncle as worried,
and--truly, Madeline, as sad. Oh, my dear, it's these human things that
count! What would life be without the love we have for each other?

MADELINE: The love we have for each other?

AUNT ISABEL: Why, yes, dearest. Don't turn away from me Madeline.
Don't--don't be strange. I wonder if you realize how your uncle has
worked to have life a happy thin