HORACE:  (shaking hands) How do you do, Senator Lewis?

SENATOR:  Pleased to see you, my boy.

HORACE:  Am I butting in?

FEJEVARY:  Not seriously; but what are you doing in the library?  I thought this was a day off.

HORACE:  I’m looking for a book.

FEJEVARY:  (affectionately bantering) You are, Horace?  Now how does that happen?

HORACE:  I want the speeches of Abraham Lincoln.

SENATOR:  You couldn’t do better.

HORACE:  I’ll show those dirty dagoes where they get off!

FEJEVARY:  You couldn’t show them a little more elegantly?

HORACE:  I’m going to sick the Legion on ’em.

FEJEVARY:  Are you talking about the Hindus?

HORACE:  Yes, the dirty dagoes.

FEJEVARY:  Hindus aren’t dagoes you know, Horace.

HORACE:  Well, what’s the difference?  This foreign element gets my goat.

SENATOR:  My boy, you talk like an American.  But what do you mean—­Hindus?

FEJEVARY:  There are two young Hindus here as students.  And they’re good students.

HORACE:  Sissies.

FEJEVARY:  But they must preach the gospel of free India—­non-British
India.

SENATOR:  Oh, that won’t do.

HORACE:  They’re nothing but Reds, I’ll say.  Well, one of ’em’s going back to get his. (grins)

FEJEVARY:  There were three of them last year.  One of them is wanted back home.

SENATOR:  I remember now.  He’s to be deported.

HORACE:  And when they get him—­(movement as of pulling a rope) They hang there.

FEJEVARY:  The other two protest against our not fighting the deportation of their comrade.  They insist it means death to him. (brushing off a thing that is inclined to worry him) But we can’t handle India’s affairs.

SENATOR:  I should think not!

HORACE:  Why, England’s our ally!  That’s what I told them.  But you can’t argue with people like that.  Just wait till I find the speeches of Abraham Lincoln!

(Passes through to left)

SENATOR:  Fine boy you have, Mr Fejevary.

FEJEVARY:  He’s a live one.  You should see him in a football game.  Wouldn’t hurt my feelings in the least to have him a little more of a student, but—­

SENATOR:  Oh, well, you want him to be a regular fellow, don’t you, and grow into a man among men?

FEJEVARY:  He’ll do that, I think.  It was he who organized our boys for the steel strike—­went right in himself and took a striker’s job.  He came home with a black eye one night, presented to him by a picket who started something by calling him a scab.  But Horace wasn’t thinking about his eye.  According to him, it was not in the class with the striker’s upper lip.  ‘Father,’ he said, ’I gave him more red than he could swallow.  The blood just—­’ Well, I’ll spare you—­but Horace’s muscle is one hundred per cent American. (going to the window) Let me show you something.  You can see the old Morton place off on that first little hill. (pointing left) The first rise beyond the valley.