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.

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?