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.

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.