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.
MADELINE: Fighting for what?
AUNT ISABEL: For Americanism; for—democracy.