 In just a moment, suspense, starring Agnes Moorhead. Hi, Hap. Hello, Anne. How are things? Couldn't be better. Except walking 12 blocks to your service station. Just isn't for me. You got me new spark plugs in? Just finished putting those brand new auto light resistors spark plugs in your car. Guess she takes a big load off your arches, eh, Hap? Sure does. My feet have the pep, but not the pickup. What are you listening to tonight? Well, it's Thursday, Hap. I'm listening to the auto light suspense show. Never miss it. Well, here's where I rest my weary bones and listen to Agnes Moorhead. Hey, Hap, here comes Frank Martin, the auto light salesman to join us. Hello, Frank. Hi, Ed. Meet Hap Horton. Auto light spark plugs, batteries and ignition systems. The lifetime of your car. Well, thanks, Mr. Horton, for the assist. And wait until I give you the real loadout on those brand new auto light resistors spark plugs Ed just put in your car. Say they... Say it later, Frank. Here comes Agnes Moorhead. Suspense. Auto light and its 60,000 dealers and service stations bring you radio's outstanding theater of thrills. Starring tonight, Miss Agnes Moorhead in a tale well calculated to keep you in... Suspense. Today everybody is switching to auto light and tonight auto light takes pleasure in presenting Anton Lita's production of the famous short story, The Yellow Wallpaper, starring Agnes Moorhead. I've never seen a worse wallpaper in my life. All those strangled heads and bulbous eyes and fungus growth seem to shriek with derision. When we came to this house, the minute I saw it, I made up my mind secretly to start writing again in spite of them. But I don't dare let John know I'm keeping this journal. It's difficult being married to a doctor. John's an excellent doctor, I'm sure, but he's so inconsistent about me. He says I'm not really sick, that I'm only a little run down from caring for the baby, that I have a temporary nervous depression. Yet he prescribes phosphates or phosphites I don't know which and tonics and exercise. And he absolutely forbids me to work until I'm well again. He hates for me to write a word. But writing is such a relief to my mind. I can write down things, tell things here that... No, John says I'm not too brute about those things. I confess they make me feel bad, so I'll only write about the house. I saw it for the first time today. The most beautiful place. John rented it for the summer and we drove up today a perfect June morning. The bay and the white sails and people already in swimming and then the shaded lane and the riotous old fashioned flowers and the gnarly trees and the house. The house standing alone in the summer stillness. I could never tell John, but you know, the house spoke to me. It was only because he rattled on so that I couldn't hear what he... You reminded me of those English places you read about. Gardeners, cottages and everything and had only 200 a month. Hedges and walls and gates that lock and there's a ghostliness. Remember I rented it just for you darling and you're going to let Jenny do all the work while you live like a... well, like a prince. You like it darling? Speak up. Yes John, yes it's lovely but it's strange as though it might be haunted. Darling, you've got that look on your face again. That dopey look. Jenny's home as a station wagon and if I know my dear sister, she's already turned the place inside out and cleaned it top to bottom. John, is it haunted, do you think? Well, the house at 200 a month. Well, that's asking too much of fate. Come on, hop up. You always laugh at anything you can't touch or see or put down in figures. There is something strange about the house I feel. If you weren't always imagining... I'm not imagining. One reason I don't get well is that you don't believe me. You don't even believe I'm sick. Well, my friends and relatives, I've heard you. I've heard you that there's nothing wrong with you. There is nothing wrong with you. Oh, I'm sorry. Please don't cry. Now come along. Let's go inside. And so I came into this house in tears. It was wrong. It was all wrong. Maybe the house saw me crying or this room. I thought so unreasonably angry with John. I shouldn't. I know he's so careful and loving and I repay him so badly. I should control myself. At least in front of him. But it makes me so tired not to show what I feel. Jenny met us at the door. Naturally, she saw I'd been crying, but she took pains to ignore it. Well, hello, you two. You're early. You must have started at the crack of dawn. How was the trip? Made it in less than two hours. There like his peas in a pod, Jenny and John, both efficient and kind. And how did you bear our pet? Oh, very well. Thank you, Jenny. Both kind and both somehow cruel. But I don't really think that. Well, you're just in time for lunch. I bought a flounder down at the wharf and cooked it with capers and cream. Sound good? Wonderful, Jenny. May I see the house first? The whole grand tour? Oh, pet, the flounder will cook to death. Well, at least my room. Our room. All right, if you insist. But if that fish is spoiled, don't blame me. Why would I blame her? Who is wrong with this, Jenny? Yours? Uh-huh. It's small, but it's near the door and the telephone. Oh, John, John, look. What? Let's take this one for you and me. I love those roses over the winter. I've already put your things upstairs, pet. Well, this has a little porch and such pretty old-fashioned shins hanged. Let's take this. Well, you'll love the room upstairs, darling. And you can see there's no room in here for two beds. And I won't hear of being in separate rooms. I'm going to make you rest and take your tonic. John and I have talked it all over. And the room at the top of the house has so many windows. And you know, darling, you must absorb lots of fresh air. Get your appetite back. They smother me with concern. They crush me with kindness. Come along. There's a good girl. All right, you know what's best. And you're going to like that nursery. It gets loads of sunshine. Up the steep narrow stairs, two stories up to the very top of the house. There's a gate at the top that locks. I wonder why. And beyond the gate is the nursery room. This room. It is big and airy. Nearly a whole floor with windows that look every way. They say it was a nursery. But what was it really? Open them all, Jenny. Wide. All right. Well, darling? Why are the windows barred? For the little children. Otherwise it wouldn't be safe. Oh, yeah, I suppose. Children climb around so, don't they? What are those rings and things in the walls? Oh, I expect they made it into a gymnasium when the children got older. A sort of playground. Oh, they must have hated the wallpaper. Well, they were rough on it. That's for sure. No way. They're often patches. I don't blame them. It's hideous. Oh, who wants to look at the wallpaper with this view? My, you can see the whole bay. It's a revolting color. It's unclean. It's such a strange, sickish yellow there where the sun's faded. And I never saw it was paper. Oh, don't dramatize it, darling. You must be hungry. And I know you're tired. I'm not tired. Why do you both act this way? I say the wallpaper's ugly and you look at each other. Your eyes shuttle back and forth and suddenly you both act as though I'd lost my vision. Darling, that was something we weren't going to say. Be a good girl, Pat. We don't act anyway. We just don't want you to worry. We want you to be well. It's true that's all they want. John laughs at me, of course, but one expects that in marriage. And he says I have foolish fancies and he sometimes can talk them away, but not this time. No matter what he says, it's a smoldering, sulfurous, unclean, it's hideous wallpaper. No wonder the children scratched at it and stripped it down. No wonder they gouge the plaster with their little fingernails. No wonder they hate it. I hate it myself. And somehow, I feel it hates me. For Suspense, Auto-Light is bringing you Miss Agnes Moorhead in the yellow wallpaper. Auto-Light's presentation of Radio's outstanding Theatre of Thrills, Suspense. Isn't she terrific? Yes, sir. Agnes Moorhead is always terrific. She sure is. Say, car sure sounds good. I couldn't resist stepping on the starting. These new Auto-Light Resistor spark plugs sure make this a contended car. Yep, and you got the first set in town. Well, right now, you can get Auto-Light Resistor spark plugs almost anywhere in the United States. It's sensational. Why, no other spark plug will give and maintain such performance. Sounds like a good sales story. Where did the name Resistor come from, Mr. Morton? Auto-Light worked with leading car truck manufacturers, and they ignition engineered a 10,000-ohm resistor right into the Auto-Light spark plug. That permits a wider spark gap setting and maintains it far longer than any other spark plugs. Actually, Mr. Horton, when you replace your narrow-gap spark plugs with a set of wide-gap Auto-Light Resistor spark plugs, you can tell the difference in your car. Names right from the book. I don't bet any, Mr. Morton. Well, guess so. But here's the simple low-down. As a result of the wide gap in the Resistor spark plug, your engine idle smoother. You have better luck with both mixtures and save gas. And within established limits, you reduce spark plug interference with radio and television reception. Yes, and today you can get the Resistor spark plug from almost any of Auto-Light's 60,000 dealers. That's the biggest spark plug news in years. And now Auto-Light brings back to our Hollywood soundstage Ms. Agnes Moorhead as star in The Yellow Wallpaper, a tale well-calculated to keep you in. Suspense. We've been here two weeks, and I haven't felt like riding again since that first day. I'm sitting by the window now up in this frightful nursery room. There's nothing to stop my riding as much as I please. John is away all day and sometimes even at night if he has a serious case. I'm glad my case is not serious. But these nervous troubles can be depressing all the same. I cry at nothing and cry most of the time. John doesn't know how much I suffer. He knows there's no reason to suffer and that satisfies him. I suppose John was never nervous in his life. He laughs at me so about this wallpaper. No, I won't let you have your way, you silly goose. If we'd taken the room downstairs, you'd be seeing faces in the chin straights. Not faces. Look at that spot, John. And that one over there. Yes, I see. It's a repeating pattern. It's a broken neck with two bulging eyes staring at me upside down. And to me, it's a climbing ivy or some kind of a vine. Take your choice. It could be anything. Besides, I can't repaper a room just for a three-month rental. Well, then let's move downstairs. Take me away from her. Don't you see, John? It hates me. I wish I'd get well faster. Yes, use your will and your good sense. I'm afraid. But you're so much better. When I married you, I meant to be such a help and I'm only a burden. You are a help to me. You're my comfort. I can't even be with my baby. It makes me so nervous. Will I ever be well enough to see him again? Of course you'll be well. If you try. Then I'll try, I promise. But now and I won't look at the wallpaper and I'll stop seeing things out of the windows. Out the windows? I see people walking up and down the paths and in the arbor. I know it's silly and it's only in certain lights when I look at the wallpaper from the bed that I see. See what? Nothing. Nothing. No, you're right. There's nothing except a pattern. A front pattern and an under pattern in a different shade of yellow. It dwells in my mind so. I lie on that great immovable bed. It's nailed down, I believe and follow that pattern about by the hour. And then where it isn't faded and when the sun is just so, I see a strange, faint form, a sort of figure lurking, waiting behind that front design. I don't know why I should write like this day after day. I don't want to. I don't feel able. And I know John would think it absurd, but I must express what I feel and think in some way. It's such a relief. There are things in that wallpaper that nobody knows about but me. You know there's a woman stooping down and creeping about behind that pattern. Last night it was moonlight and the moon shines in all around just as the sun does. John was asleep and I hated to wake in him so I kept still and watched the moonlight on the wall till I felt creepy. The woman behind the paper began to shake the pattern as if she wanted to get out. I caught up softly and went and felt the paper to see if it did move. It moved! It moved, I'm sure of it. And the poor woman cried out as though her voice came a long way over water. What is it, darling? Why are you up? You shouldn't go walking around like that. She'll catch cold. The moonlight woke me. You are cold. You're shivering. John, I'm not really getting better. Why don't you take me away? At least I'll be up in three weeks, darling. I don't see how we can leave before then. Of course, if you were in any danger, I would. But you really are better, dear, whether you see it or not. I'm a doctor and I know. Oh, my appetite may be better in the evening when you are here, but it's worse in the morning when you're gone. You're gaining flesh and... I don't weigh a bit more, not even as much. Well, bless you a little hard. You shall be as sick as you please. But let's go to sleep, huh? And talk about it in the morning. You won't go away? How can I, dear? And why should I, since you're better? Better in body, perhaps. Darling, for my sake and your sake and for the sake of our child, I beg you not to let that idea enter your head, not for an instant. Can't you trust me as a doctor when I tell you it's a false and foolish idea? Answer me, darling. Don't you trust me? Yes, of course I trust you only. What? I'm sleepy. Let's go to sleep. But I didn't sleep. I lay there for hours trying to decide if the front pattern and the back pattern move together or separately. At night, in the moonlight, the front pattern becomes bars. And the woman behind it shakes the bars. Yes, she shakes the bars as she creeps around. I lie down ever so much now. John says it's good for me and to sleep all I can. But you see, I don't sleep. And that cultivates to see for I don't tell him I'm awake. Oh, no. Fact is, I'm getting a little afraid of John. He seems very odd sometimes and it strikes me that perhaps it's the yellow wallpaper. I like this room now and life is much more exciting than it used to be. I have something more to expect to look forward to. To watch. And I really do eat better and I'm quieter than I was. John is pleased to see me improve. You see, you're flourishing like a weed in spite of your wallpaper. Yeah. In spite of the wallpaper. In spite of it. Because of it. But I had no intention of telling him that. He might want to take me away and I don't want to leave now until I found out. There's one week more and I think that will be enough. There's a funny mark on the wall low down near the mop board. A streak that runs around the room goes behind every piece of furniture except the bed. A long straight even smudge as if it had been rubbed over and over. How was it done? Who did it? What did they do to it? Round. Round and round. Round. Makes me dizzy. I've really discovered something at last. There are great many women behind the pattern and sometimes only one and she creeps around fast and her creeping shakes the pattern. She's trying to climb through and can't because the pattern strangles everything. But she does get out in the daytime. I know because I've seen her. When a car comes she hides in the blackberry vines. I don't blame her. I'd hide too. I always lock the door when I creep by daylight. There are only two days left to tear this paper off and let the woman out in the room and John's beginning to take notice. I don't like the look in his eyes or the way he talks with Jenny about me. I overheard them. She isn't sleeping nights, Jenny. She's quiet but I know she's awake. Well, it's a little wonder she sleeps the whole blessed day. Maybe I ought to call in another doctor. No, it's just stubbornness, John. She's determined to go wrong. I suppose you're right. Oh, I'm sure she'll improve. Oh, darling. Well, hello, Pett. Are you creep about? Well, that's a funny thing to say, Jenny. It isn't I who creeps. Jenny says you stay in your room too much. You don't take your exercise. You tell me to rest and then you tell me to take exercise. I can't do both. Well... As though I can't see through them. Tomorrow's our last day here. We'll talk about exercise when I get you back to town. I'll have to roll you out of bed pretty early, Pett. You know, some of that furniture up there belongs downstairs and the movers will be here at nine. Maybe, uh... Maybe you'll sleep upstairs tonight, Jenny. So you won't be alone, darling. You won't be here tonight, John? Well, not until tomorrow evening. There's a difficult case. If you're going to feel lonesome... Oh, no, Jenny. I'll rest better alone. I'm sure of it. Thank you all the same. That was clever of me. A sly thing. I won't be alone a bit. As soon as the moon shone in, the poor thing behind the paper began to crawl and shake the pattern. I ran to her. I pulled. And she shook. I shook. And she pulled. And my morning, we'd peeled off yards and yards of yellow wallpaper. A strip about as high as my head and half around the room. When Jenny came up in the morning, she looked at the wall in amazement. You know why I did it, Jenny? Just to spite the vicious thing. Why are you so surprised? Oh, I... I'm not. Why, I wouldn't mind doing it myself. But you mustn't tire yourself. She wouldn't mind doing it. Why don't you come downstairs and lie down? How she betrayed herself that, Jenny. She wouldn't mind doing it. But I'm here and no person touches this paper, but me. Not alive. Lock the door and throw the key down into the front path. I don't want anybody to come in till John comes. I want to surprise him. And I've got a rope up here. Even Jenny doesn't know that. If the woman gets out from behind the pattern and tries to run away, I can tire securely to one of the rings in the wall. It's like wallowing seaweeds. Oh, it'll strangle her unless I help. Wait. Wait. Wait, I'll help you. I'll peel off the paper all I can. Wait. Wait. Be patient. You, you, you push. You push it out, poor. Oh, it, it sticks horribly to the plaster. I can get it off with my teeth. I wonder if they all came out of the wallpaper. As I did. I have you securely tied by my rope now. You'll never get away. But I don't want to get away. It's so pleasant to be out in this great room to creep about as I please. It's so pleasant. But I suppose I'll, I'll have to get back behind the pattern when night comes. That will be hard to do. Well, it's, it's better than going outside. I won't go outside, even if Jenny asks me to. For outside, I have to creep on the ground where everything is green instead of yellow. Here, I can creep smoothly on the floor. She's coming now. It's John at the door. Dr. John, you can't open it. Open it. Do you want me to do it? Oh, no. He'll break down that beautiful door. John, dear, the key's down in front of the house under a plantain leaf. Door, John. Open the door for heaven's sake. Open it. I can't. I can't. The key's downstairs, John. It's under a plantain leaf by the front steps. It's under a plantain leaf down. Go and see. Go and see. You'll find it if you look. You'll find it. There, there. He's gone to look. The wallpaper has stopped laughing. The evil thing. Now I can creep slowly, smoothly on the floor. Round and round. Round and round and round. And my shoulder just fits into that long smudge on the wall so I can't lose my way. He's running on the stairs. How astonished he'll be. My dear. My dear, what is this? What's happened? I've got out at last, John. Out? Out from... Yes, out in spite of you and Jenny. I pulled down the paper. I shot the pattern and pushed and pulled it down. It stuck horribly. But you'll never, you'll never put me back. You'll never put me back. You're so pale, John. Why do you close your eyes? Watch how swiftly I creep round in this lovely yellow room. Should that man have fainted. But he did. And right across my path by the wall so that I have to creep over him every time, round and round. Thank you, Agnes Morehead, for a magnificent performance. Miss Morehead will be back in just a moment. Oh, what a show. That Agnes Morehead's really some actress. Well, I guess I better head for home and Mother Anne. Oh, say, Mr. Martin, can you give me those simple words of yours again? You bet, Mr. Horton. When you replace your narrow-gap spark plugs with a set of wide-gap auto-light resistor spark plugs, you can tell the difference in your car. For example, your engine idles smoother. You have better luck with leaner gas mixtures and save gas. And within established limits, you reduce spark plug interference with radio and television reception. So switch to auto-light, because auto-light means resistor spark plugs. Ignition engineered spark plugs. Auto-light means batteries. Stay full batteries. Auto-light means ignition system. The lifeline of your car. Now here again is Miss Agnes Morehead. It's always a great pleasure for me to appear on suspense. I've thoroughly enjoyed this appearance this evening. And next week, when I turn listener again, I'll join the rest of you to welcome Mr. Charles Lawton's return to these microphones in a role written especially for him. Next week then, an honest man starring Charles Lawton on... Suspense. Agnes Morehead may soon be seen in the Warner Brothers production, Johnny Belinda. Tonight Suspense Play was adapted for radio by Sylvia Richards from an original story by Charlotte Perkins Gilman. Music was composed by Lucian Morrowick and conducted by Lud Bluskin. The entire production was under the direction of Anton M. Lieder. Next Thursday, same time, you will hear Mr. Charles Lawton in... An Honest Man. This is the Auto-Light Suspense Show saying, Good night, switch to Auto-Light. This is CBS, where 99 million people gather every week the Columbia Broadcasting System.