Caren. You think I'm going to tuck on a few extras just because he's a swell. [Yelling.] Don't I keep telling you 'til there's not a breath left in my body, that there ain't no class here? [The helper reënters and hears the last words. He stands breathless.] Tramp or gentleman, they're all alike. Now get that into your head and let it grow.
Helper [has been stammering trying to speak]. I oughtn't to tell. They'd kill me if they knew. It's to be kept a secret, but....
Caren. What's the matter?
Helper. Number thirteen.... [Stammering.] He ... he....
Caren. Well, what about him?
Helper. He ain't a loafer. He ain't a tramp. He ain't even a gentleman. He....
Caren. Who is he? Quick!
Helper. Our.... [Exultantly.] Our King!
Caren [open-mouthed, aghast]. Our ... King!
Kraig [laughing triumphantly]. Ha ... ha ... ha ... ha—HERE! [He clasps his hands together.]