When the curtain rises, John Hathaway is seated at desk working. Anne enters at right, bangs the door, and stands with back to it.
Anne. I hate Aunt Caroline. (She hurries forward to stand at opposite side of desk.) Oh, I know what you will say—just preach and preach and call me “Anne” and tell me I must ask her pardon.—Why don’t you begin?
John. (Smiling.) Now, Anne!
Anne. Yes, there’s the “Anne.” I know the rest without your going on:—“Aunt Caroline is a peculiar woman, but is most worthy. Her Puritanism keeps her from understanding your temperament, and you are too young to understand hers,—” and you’ll go on preaching and smiling in that horrid way—you always do—and you’ll make me see how wrong I’ve been and how saintly Aunt Caroline is, and at last I’ll slink out of the room like a good little pussy-cat to find Aunt Caroline and beg her pardon. But it won’t do this time, for I begged her pardon before I lost my temper so that you couldn’t send me back.—Oh, Duke, can’t we send Aunt Caroline away, and just you and me live here always together. (She swings round the desk to sit on the stool at his side, her back to him. He turns a little in his chair, letting a hand fall on her shoulder.) When Dad died, he left me with you because next to me he loved you best in all the world. Hundreds and hundreds of times he told me that.—It would have been very nice, Duke, if Dad hadn’t died, wouldn’t it?
John. Yes, Nan.
Anne. In just that one thing God has not been quite fair to me. Aunt Caroline tries so hard to make me think I am wrong about it.—I know you think so too, but you never argue about it with me. I like you for that, Duke. You see, if Dad had lived, our kingdom would have been complete. Why! a kingdom’s only half a kingdom without a king.
John. That’s true,—but there are still a few of us left. There’s the Prime Minister, and the Countess, and the Slave, every one of them loyal to the Princess. Even the War Department is loyal—in warfare. Perhaps, who knows, some day from out a great foreign land a great king may come riding, and the Princess will place him beside her on the throne—and—live happily ever afterward.
Anne. (Inattentively.) Perhaps. Duke, did you ever think that the Prime Minister was very fond of the Countess?
John. Why, I have thought so at times.
Anne. And did you ever think that perhaps the Prime Minister would like to marry the Countess?