 Family Theater presents Margaret O'Brien, Ricardo Montalban, John Howard, and Rita Johnson. Playwood, the mutual broadcasting system in cooperation with Family Theater, brings you Margaret O'Brien, Rita Johnson, and John Howard in the holdout heart. Now, to introduce the drama, your host, Ricardo Montalban. Thank you, Tony Lafana. Just a brief mention first of Family Theater's purpose. To light the lamp of prayer in all our lives. To light the lamp of harmony in all our homes. To light the lamp of peace in our times and in our world. And now, to Margaret O'Brien, John Howard, and Rita Johnson, staring in the holdout heart. The county orphanage looked quite splendid to passing motorists. And they'd always ask, what place is that? Lawns carefully manicured, brave splashes of bright flowers here and there. A tall soldierly boarded of iron pickets guarding it like a big estate. Yes, the exterior was sufficiently beautiful to stimulate the pride of the gardeners and subdue the interest of the taxpayers at large. But Margaret lived here. Beyond the iron margin of the fence. Beyond the flowers you mustn't pick. Beyond the smooth lawns you mustn't walk on. And so did Tommy. Both fragments of the compressed heartache that every orphanage is, no matter how modern its buildings and writing tension its attendants. But this was Tommy's last day. Margaret and he'd had such good times together. And out by the fence. Gee, Margaret, I've never seen you like this. Don't you want me to go? Of course I do, you big chum. Then stop sniffling. You're making me wish that Betsy I didn't get adopted. Oh, don't be silly. Well, then? Miss Waller says folks hardly ever adopt children as old as we are. They want babies. Yeah. But someday you'll be leaving too. Do you really think so? After all these years? Of course. Who's a silly now? Hey, maybe I can talk the cameras into adopting you too, huh? Oh, don't bother, Tommy. They don't look like my parents. Oh, there you go again. Pretending you know what your parents look like. I'm not pretending. And don't say I am. Okay, okay, if you want it that way. But Maggie, that pride's okay for the others. But I'm your pal. Until the cameras decided to adopt me, I was in the same fix, wasn't I? There's no need to pretend with me. I'm not pretending. Stop saying so. And stop calling me Maggie too. I thought you wanted me to. Well, I don't. My mother says it's Margaret. Your mother. You ain't even seen her. I have so. My father too. Now look, Maggie, we're both the same, except that I was a month before you. I was left in an empty water pail on the police station steps. In December, you was in January. I was in the clothes basket on a church pew. Skinny Waller's telling a big fib, because I made her mad. She heard me call her skinny once, that's why. Then why'd they say the pink blanket you came wrapped in, just in case? Tell me that, go ahead. Well, I don't want to talk about it. Oh, gee, I'm sorry as heck we did then. Now I don't like leaving at all. Not like this? Oh, gee, Willikers and old shoes. I thought we understood each other. Oh, hey, Maggie, now look at what's coming. Thomas, look here, Thomas. Yes, Miss Waller? Where have you been? The Camerans are here already, and they've been waiting in the reception room for 15 minutes. I've been telling Margaret goodbye. Thomas, please go directly to the reception room and join your new parents before they start looking for somebody else. Now hurry. Yes, Miss Waller. Bye, Maggie. I'm sorry, it's all get out. See you later, I hope. Goodbye, Tommy, and right, huh? That's a promise. Margaret, you will go to your dormitory and remain there until the dinner bell. Yes, Miss Waller. And before you go, hand over that flower. The gardener doesn't like to have his flower beds robbed. I won't, it's mine. Hand it over, I say. Tommy gave it to me, it's a keepsake. Neither Thomas nor any other often has a right to break the rules. Now give it to me. Next thing you'll be wearing it in your hair. My parents come for me, they'll buy me lots of flowers, roses, and I'll wear them in my hair every day. Here, keep your old flower. Oh, you snip. Throw it at me, will you? No wonder nobody wants you. Now you go to your dormitory before I show you a thing or two you won't forget. Come on, aren't you trippin' early? A bit, not much. I was upstairs dusting. I'll start dinner right away. Go along and read the paper in the living room. Darling, all I want's a quick sandwich. Oh, don't be silly, John. It won't take long. I'll put the potatoes on right now. Go ahead and eat it. I promised to meet the boys at the club. Again? I came home early, so you wouldn't have dinner all cooked. I didn't want to disturb. You didn't want to have dinner with me. Is that it? Oh, please, Ann. Oh, it seems to me, John, that you can't get out of this house soon enough. You're no sooner home than you're off again. You're nothing any more here than a board of... Ann, please. Please, quiet down. You know what the doctor says about you're getting excited. Oh, well, who wouldn't get excited with a neglectful husband like you? Ann? Ann, what were you doing upstairs when I came in? I told you. Dusting. Was it in Lucy's room? Was it, darling? Well, tell me. Was it? Well, what if it was? Oh, I tell you, Doc, I'm at my wit's end. I don't want my marriage to be a failure, but it's crumbling every day. You must be patient, John. This calls for the utmost impatience. Easy to say. Not so easy to do. Emily's a nervous wreck, and she's making one out of me. Coming home is bad. Staying away is worse. Look, John, it's quite a shock for a woman to lose her baby, particularly when she wanted her baby so much. But the additional shock of learning that she could never have another, well, it's been a pretty heavy load to bear. But, Doc, that was 14 years ago. You'd think she'd have grown out of it. Other women have? Yes, other women have. But other women are not Emily. Some of the very things that make Emily the fine woman she is, gentle, generous, proud. Doc, I went along when Emily pretended that Lucy wasn't dead, just away, when she kept a doll in the nursery cradle, even when she set aside a room in our new home. She got over the doll stage. Perhaps she couldn't keep getting dolls big enough. But she makes that room a sort of shrine, pretending that Lucy will come home from school someday. Hmm. I wish I'd known the complete story before. Now that Emily, nor you, ever told me all the facts. Well, I suppose I've been ashamed. I thought she'd grow out of it. John, how about adopting a full grown child, say, of Lucy's age? Well, Emily'd never accept her. She's built up a model Lucy out of her dreams. No kid could fit it. Besides, the adoption authorities, would they consent? Knowing the conditions? Well, I think I can be of some influence on both sides. With Emily, well, I think she trusts me. I know the authorities do. Yes, but isn't there a risk? I mean about Emily. Suppose she- Risk? Why, of course there is. Might a little gained in this world without it. Every time I lift a scalpel to make a first incision, it's there, sitting on my shoulder. Every time I write a prescription, it's the unwritten word on my pad. A big if, if. And you still want me to go through with it? John, I've been a general practitioner nearly 30 years. You've known me hardly half that time. Long, long ago, I learned that man gives the medicine, but it's God who heals. You want to save your marriage? Save Emily? That's why I'm here. Then I have a bit more advice, and you can take it or ignore it. It's not strictly clinical. What is it, Doc? John, there are some medicines that work a high percentage of the time. Others only rarely. But there are two I've never known to fail. Yes. The same bottle holds them both. The human heart. One's love, the other's prayer. Both alone are mighty strong. When you mix them, oh, get along with you and see that Emily comes down to visit me real soon. I'll make her think adoption's her own idea. Is that child spending all her time in the dormitory? Oh, Margaret. Margaret, answer me, child. Come here. What, Miss Waller? Go to the reception room. What for? Because I tell you there's someone to see you. My parents? Silly child, you have no parents. I do, too. Then why haven't I met them? Because I never introduced them to you. Oh, really, Margaret? I pity you, always imagining your parents. I don't. It's probably they've come for me now. And you won't tell them I'm here. Where you get such imaginings, I just don't know. You've been so sad-faced since he went away that I wanted to keep it a surprise. It's Thomas. Tommy? Honest, Miss Waller? Is he back for good? Of course not. Just a visit. Now go down and see him. He came especially to see you. Gee, I'm talking a blue streak. See, I forgot to ask what you've been doing. Why didn't you answer my letter? Got it, didn't you? I've been too busy. Yeah? Doing what? Well, for one thing, my parents come to call on me every day. I went to the circus eight or nine times. And to the movies 10 times, I've got six new bikes. And every day, my dad sends me a gallon of vanilla ice cream. And- Ah, you're kidding. Honest, what's your father look like? He's the biggest man I've ever seen. He's nearly seven feet tall. Oh, oh, Maggie. And my mother's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. And she rides bareback in the circus. And she does a toe dance on six white horses. Oh, Maggie, quit your kidding. You don't have to pretend with me. It's the truth. Oh, I'll prove it's not. I'm going to ask Miss Waller. Hey, Miss Waller. Hey, hey, wait a minute, Maggie. What is it, Tommy? Where's Margaret gone? Oh, I couldn't keep my big, fat mouth shut. Brandis. Hello, John. This is Dr. Turnbull. Hello, Doc. I thought I was never going to hear from you. I wanted to wait and light good news. At least I've cleared the preliminaries away. Good. What now? Not so fast. There's complications. Well, not Emily. No, not Emily. Easier there than I thought. The other side, the orphanage. What do you mean? It seems there's only one little girl there that fits the picture. The orphanage is quite frank about it. They say that she's a problem child. It seems that she's invented a set of blueprints as to what her parents are like. Is that bad? It sounds spunky to me. Well, we'll see. The orphanage suggests that for the first few weeks you take the little girl for weekends only. Is that agreeable? Sure thing. Then you and Emily are to be out at the orphanage next Friday afternoon at 2. Can you make it? You couldn't keep me away. Oh, and say, Doc. Yeah? I'm going to keep a bottle of that medicine handy. I've been thinking about what you said. Turnbull's special mixture, I've been calling it. They're crying. They're here. My parents? Mr. and Mrs. Prentice. Oh, now don't pretend that I didn't tell you you were going with them this weekend. I'm not either. Yes, you are. Is Mr. Prentice tall? Well, medium height, I'd say. Is she dressing spangles, carrying a gold whip, and? She is wearing a tailored suit, dark blue. Then they're not my parents, and I'm not going. I'm going to wait here until my real parents come for me. Oh, honestly, Margaret. Oh, excuse me, Miss Water. My wife was getting anxious. I'm afraid I'm breaking rules coming up here, but. Oh, is this my little girl? I'm not your little girl. Margaret, how dare you. Please, Miss Waller, leave us alone for a minute. I think Margaret and I'll get along famously. It's against the rules, Mr. Prentice. I'm not permitted. Just this once, Miss Waller? Well, I'll be back in five minutes. Well, may I sit here beside you, Margaret? I don't care. If you want. Don't turn away like that. I just don't know what to say. For a starter, I think I'll say please to meet you. That's how grown-ups usually start conversations when they meet for the first time. You know, I didn't imagine you were such a tall, grown-up girl. Do you mind if I call you pretty, Margaret? You are, you know. You're not my father. He's taller than you, lots taller. No, Margaret, I'm not your father, but I'd like to be. I wish I were that lucky. Look, would you do me a big favor? What? My wife and I need a daughter, just like you. We'd like to choose you, but first, you've got to choose us. Would you kind of take us on trial, Margaret? Give us a fair chance? Here, sport, take my big handkerchief. We can use it for a towel, the end of the first round. Oh, you'll get a chuckle out of this, a fishing rod for Margaret. Look, isn't it a beauty? Did you save the sail slip? Yeah, I guess so. Now, here it is, why? So you can get your money back when you caught all this stuff back, the bike, the badminton set. Lucy's closet will hardly hold all that stuff. I'd like to clean it out, get it out of the house. Oh, Emily, are you really giving the kid a chance? Oh, John, I wish you'd call the orphanage and say we won't be out this weekend or again. But why, Emily? Because I don't feel we're making any headway with the child. She just sits at the window in Lucy's room all weekend and moons. I'd hope she'd be like Lucy. I've tried, John, but I just can't reach her. I can't make any identification with her, not the slightest. Hem, look, Hem, I don't know how to say this gently enough. But phantoms have no problems. Phant, how can you speak of your own flesh and blood that way, your own daughter? Lucy died at birth, Hem. That was God's will, wiser than ours, I'm sure. Lucy's problems are over. But ours aren't, and neither are Margaret's. As hard as you try, you'll never fit her into the form and face of Lucy. Am I doing that by expecting this child to be polite, refined, manly, even just a little bit? Hem, I wish you'd try a new attack. Try a reverse feel. Try to fit the lovely image of Lucy into Margaret's problems. Ugly problems, if I do say so. That's why she's an escapist, like you. So now I'm an escapist. Sometimes we all are. Oh, I'm not saying this to you, darling. I'm sort of addressing myself, too, thinking out loud. Yet it takes guts to face reality, to adjust to the facts, to struggle against them, like any marine or soldier in Korea. We can't begin by saying that facts don't exist. Problems are never wished away. We've got to meet them full face. But if I could only reach Margaret, John, if I could only feel she needs me. She does need you, both of us. That's why I brought home this fishing rod. I'm going to take Margaret on a fishing trip. She's never been in the woods before, fishing or anything, the poor little take. How would a fishing trip help? And what's being in the woods got to do with it? Well, I figure it this way, Em. There's a spell in the woods that touches all of us. At least it does me. Well, it does you, too. I noticed it on those fishing trips we used to take before. When we were younger. Let's not cheat Margaret of this chance. If it doesn't work, then I'll give in. Are you game, Em? Do I have to say please? You win, John. Sometimes I think you'd have been just as good a lawyer as you are an architect. Look at those trees. Aren't they beautiful? Now aren't you glad you came, Margaret? Yes, Mr. Prentice. They're done. Em, give Margaret another sandwich. Here, Margaret. Oh, no, Mrs. Prentice. I'm full. I've had three already. Well, I'll split one with you, Margaret. Em, divvy one up with you. Are you game, Maggie? I'm game. Well, you study up the wheel while I get into this. Woods always give me a false hunger. I'm famished. What did you say was the name of the camp? I don't think it has any name. I've never been there before. They call the lake Kachanta Cog. That's an old Indian name, I think, Margaret. Funny name. Kachanta Cog. How much further is it? Your guess. An hour from now and we'll have our lines in the water. Sure glad we gave ourselves plenty of time to make camp. This is going to be fun. There, I guess the pan's ready for a good fish fry. A little salt in the bottom of the pan now. Not too much, Em. We'll have a roaring good meal before dark. Which fish gets pan on us? Well, Margaret's, of course. That's that little trout over there. I thought her eyes would bulge right out of her head when I helped her reel a rascal in. You know something, Em. What? This trip is working. She hasn't mentioned her imaginary parents all day. She's been having a lot of fun. Oh, she'll hear you. Well, we ought to call her now to tend the fire while her fish gets fried. Now, where did I leave that knife? I'll clean up some of the others. Hey, Maggie. Maggie. Where is she, Em? Margaret. Only a moment ago, she was playing near that big rock, picking a few flowers while I was helping at the fire. Well, she couldn't have run away. Oh, Em. Em, don't faint at a time like this. Now, Em, hold tight. I've got to find the kid. Night's coming. There's no time for hysterics. Oh, I'm OK. I'm sorry, John. Go find her. Go find her. God help us if she's lost. Now, Em, Em, get a grip on yourself. There, that's better. Now, you wait here and keep the fire going. And pray. Margaret. No, I'll never forgive myself. What a fool I've been. Margaret. She couldn't have strayed this far. Margaret. Why didn't I brief her? Hey, what's that? It's like a bunch of flowers. Yes, it is. She must have been here. Margaret. I mustn't get lost myself. I could easily. I can always follow the margin of the lake back through. I can spot Em's fire if she keeps it going. Margaret. Margaret. What was that? Margaret. Mind playing, please. I'll stuff my hands and shout as loud as I can. Margaret. Great scotchy, somewhere near here. Margaret, I'm coming. Daddy. Maggie. Maggie, what are you? Here. Over here. Oh, daddy. Oh, Maggie. Maggie, darling, I thought we'd lost you forever. Are you all right? Oh, I didn't mean to get lost. I'm so ashamed. Oh, there, that's all right. Let's hear no more about it. I was picking flowers for you and Mrs. Prendison. And you lost your way. I know, Maggie. It's so easy. In the woods, I should have warned you. Are you all right? Can you get up? I think I twisted my ankle, and I dropped my flowers. Well, when we get home, we'll get you lots of flowers. You can wear them in your hair and everything. Here, put your arms around my neck. There, that's it. I'll carry you back to Emily before she dies of fright. Daddy. Daddy, darling. It's asleep, poor little darling. She was all worn out. Was the doctor here again? Yes. He says the ankle's better. Just a little more rest. What did he say about you, darling? I'm fine. To quote him, a mother's heart is the most sensitive and the most shockproof instrument in the world. Don't worry about me, honey. Let's take a peek at Margaret. I want you to peek at something else first before we go up. What, darling? She spent the afternoon writing a letter to a little boy she used to know at the orphanage, Tommy Cameron. It dropped on the floor when she fell asleep. Here, read it. Dear Tommy, my mother and father are just like I always dream they'd be. They're the- Go on, John. Look how she finishes. The ink smudged it. Not very plain. It's my fault. I cried when I read it. Here, I'll finish it for you. They're the kindest, dearest, most wonderful father and mother in the whole world. And she signed it. Margaret Lucy Prentice. Let's go up and kiss her goodnight, huh? She's still asleep. No. No, she heard us. She's stirring. We won't disturb you, Maggie. Just taking a goodnight look at our precious new daughter. Goodnight, mommy. Goodnight, kiddo. Pleasant dreams. Goodnight, mommy. Goodnight, daddy. Ricardo Moncalvan again. Some folks just love a symphony. Others, a Dixieland band. Boogie Boogie, maybe that's your choice if you happen to be an extremist. Me? Well, as a matter of fact, I enjoy all kinds of music. In a sense, though, I'm an extremist, too. For me, there is a whole wonderful symphony in the jingle-jangle of a bunch of keys. Let's see. This shiny one, the passkey to my home, lets me into the shouts of my kids. The welcoming kiss of my wife and the smell of biscuits baking in the kitchen. The key to my car, a passport, so to speak, to the mountains, the seashore, and all sorts of pleasant places. This little one now, my mailbox key, much more important than its size. Just full of surprises, this little fellow. I mean, beyond the gas bill and the phone bill, and the letter from Aunt Mamie. Well, I won't bore you with the whole catalog, but here's the key to an old trunk I haven't used in years. And this, I forget what this one is, but I've kept it on my ring for years. Are you like me afraid to throw away an old key, thinking sometime, maybe tomorrow, you'll need it, perhaps to open an old treasure chest somewhere or a castle, perhaps in Spain? I bet you are. It's kind of fun contemplating a bunch of keys. I never think of keys as locking things up. It's always more pleasant to think what they'll open up. You know, prayer is a sort of key, too. But I'm afraid for all too many of us, it's like the old key on my ring. Oh, it's there, but we've forgotten its particular use. But it's a tremendously important key, prayers. For it opens the gates of heaven, unlocks nature's greatest harmonies, and lets us into the boundless treasures of God's mercy. Now, here's a closing reminder. The family that prays together stays together. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of. Family Theater has brought you Margaret O'Brien, John Howard, and Rita Johnson in the holdout heart. Ricardo Montalban was your host. Others in our cast were Eleanor Oddly, Herb Rawlinson, and Michael Edwards. The script was written by James D. Roach, from a story idea suggested by Peggy Chandler, with music composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman, and was directed for Family Theater by Joseph F. Mansfield. This series of Family Theater broadcasts is made possible by the thousands of you who feel the need for this type of program, by the mutual network which responds to this need, and by the hundreds of stars of stage screen and radio who give so unselfishly of their time and talent to appear on our Family Theater stage. To them and to you, our humble thanks. This is Tony LaFranco expressing the wish of Family Theater that the blessing of God may be upon you and your home, and inviting you to join us next week at the same time when Family Theater will present Robert Young and McDonald-Carrie in Stopwatch Finale. Join us, won't you? Family Theater has broadcasted the world and origination of Hollywood Studios of the world's largest network, the mutual broadcasting system.