 Hollywood, California, Monday, September 14th. The Lux Radio Theater presents Ruth Chariton and Brian Ahern in Sir James Barry's play, Quality Street. Lux presents Hollywood with Ruth Chariton, Brian Ahern, Kathleen Lockhart, Mervyn Leroy, and Harold S. Bouquet. Our producer, Cecil B. DeMille, our musical director, Louis Silvers. This hour in Hollywood comes to you with greetings from the makers of Lux Toilette soap. Our welcome also goes to the distinguished audience gathered here in our theater on Hollywood Boulevard, which includes the following Boston dramatic critics who have just returned from Santa Cruz where the picture made of Salem, starting Claudette Colbert as being filmed. Marjorie Adams, Peggy Doyle, Helen Eager, Crunella Hall, Eleanor Hughes, and Don Messenger. And a hearty welcome also to our old friend, Al Jolson. We hope our program brings you as much pleasure as your presence brings to us. We wish you could visit the homes of Hollywood's glamorous stars. We wish you could visit their dressing rooms at the famous motion picture studios, for then you could see for yourself that nine out of 10 of our most beautiful actresses protect their flawless complexions with Lux Toilette soap. Lovely women everywhere prefer Lux Toilette soap because they know it's active rather removes cosmetics thoroughly, assures daintiness, and leaves the skin clear, smooth, and delicately fragrant. Order some tomorrow. It's so inexpensive that everyone can use Hollywood's favorite beauty care every day. And now the producer of the Lux Radio Theater, ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Cecil B. DeMille. Greetings from Hollywood, ladies and gentlemen. Given a microphone or a monoplane, Ruth Chatterton and Brian Ahern are completely at home on the air. Ms. Chatterton has the distinction of being the first actress to make a solo flight across the United States. And Mr. Ahern has just obtained his pilot license. Sir James Barry, who wrote tonight's play, Quality Street, also dabbled in aviation. Recalling Peter Pan, he will remember that his character, Wendy, had a great deal of flying to do. To stop children who loved the story from trying to follow Wendy's example, Sir James wrote a warning to them that before they could fly, it would be necessary to sprinkle them with Peter Pan's magic dust. But to rise in the world, tonight's stars needed no magic dust. Brian Ahern was acting on the English stage when he was only five. For a Ruth Chatterton at 13, gave a song recital in Carnegie Hall. For our first job in stock, Ruth earned $10 a week, six of which went to the landlady. Soon after, Henry Miller spoke to Ruth on the telephone, gave her the lead in his new play without even having seen her. She was only 17 then and totally unknown. But at the end of her opening performance, she won an ovation that lasted 10 minutes. Brian Ahern, at the age of 10, went to London and lived all alone, just so he could study acting. After leaving college, he rose to immediate success in England and Australia. While his performances in this country, in the barretts of Wimpole Street and Romeo and Juliet, will long be remembered. We hear him tonight in the role of a young physician, Valentine Brown. The part of Phoebe Frostwell will be played by Miss Chatterton. And that of Susan, her spinster sister, by Catherine Lockhart. And now, the lights overhead in the Lux Radio Theatre fade to pinpoint, then go out. Footlights flash on, and the curtain rises on Sir James Barry's famous play, Quality Street. A gentle love story of the early 19th century, when ladies were incredibly prim and gentlemen endowed with a chivalry little known to our present generation. Quality Street stars Ruth Chatterton and Brian Ahern with Kathleen Lockhart. It is the winter of 1805, and Napoleon's greed for empire casts a threatening shadow over all Europe. We're in the home of the Mrs. Susan and Phoebe Frostwell on Quality Street, a refined but by no means wealthy district in an English town. As the curtain rises, Miss Susan Frostwell, Phoebe's old maids sister, is knitting in the parlor. We hear the sound of the doorbell, an old fashioned pool bell, whose continued thinkling surprises Miss Susan. Susan, I'm so excited. I should think so. I thought you were going to pull that bell outside the room. What's happened? Patty, will you please take my ballet and third chip it into the bedroom? Yes, ma'am. What is it, Phoebe? Just a minute. I didn't want Patty to over here. Susan, I have met a certain individual. Not Mr. Phoebe. Yeah, my dear, you're trembling. No. Oh, no. Oh, yes, you put your hand to your heart. Did I? Have you proposed? Oh, Susan. Then what? I think it is too holy to speak of. Even to your sister? Susan, I was visiting an unhappy woman whose husband has fallen in the war against Napoleon. When I came out of her cottage, he was passing. Yes, Phoebe. He offered me a escort. At first, he was very silent. We know why. Please not to say that I know why. Suddenly, he stopped and swung his cane. You know how gallantly he swings his cane. Yes, indeed. He said, I have something I am wishful to tell you, Miss Phoebe. Perhaps you can guess what it is. Go on, go on. Just say I could guess, sister, would have been un-ladylike. I said, please not to tell me in the public sub-affair, to which he instantly replied that I shall call and tell you this afternoon. Phoebe. Susan, just think that it's all happened in a single year. The village doctor? Such a genteel competency as he can offer. Such a desirable establishment. Oh, I had no thought of that, dear. What a romantic name. Mr. Valentine Brown. Do you remember when he first called? At the tea table, he humorously passed the cake basket with nothing in it at all. He was very amusing from the very first. I'm thankful that I have a sense of humor, too. I'm exceedingly funny at times, am I not, Susan? Yes, indeed. You know he is absolutely fearless. Susan, he has smoked a pipe in this very room. Oh, smoking is indeed a dreadful habit, but there is something so dashing about it. Oh, I shall have to live alone. Oh, no. I cannot bear to leave this room, my lovely blue and white room. This is my husband. Susan, you must make my house your home. You see... You see, I have something just pressing to tell you. Bob, you are lonely. You know Mr. Brown advised us how to invest half of our money. I know it gives us 8%. So why it should do so, I cannot understand. But there you're blidging, I'm sure. Susan, all that money is lost. Lost? Something burst, dear. A bubble, I believe they called it. And then the offices of the company have scondid. But Mr. Brown... Oh, I haven't told him yet. He might think it was his fault. How much have we left? Only 60 pounds a year. So you see, you must live with us. Oh, but... but Mr. Brown... If he is not proud to have my Susan live with us, I shall say it once, Mr. Brown, the door. Dear Phoebe. That's Knox. He never rings. He knocks. So dashing. So imperious. Susan, I think he kissed me one. You think? I know he did. He was squiring me home from the concert. It was raining, and my face was wet. He said that was why he did it. Because your face was wet? It doesn't seem a sufficient excuse now. Oh, Phoebe. Before he had offered marriage, I feared it was most un-ladylike. Oh, good afternoon, Mr. Brown. Good afternoon, Patty. Oh, Miss Susan, how do you do, ma'am? And, Miss Phoebe? Miss Phoebe of the pretty ringlets? How are you? Always so dashing. May I sit on this chair, Miss Phoebe? I know Miss Susan likes me to break her chair. Indeed, sir, I do not. Phoebe, how strange that he should think so. A bit of Mark was humorous, was it not? How you see through me, Miss Phoebe. Ah. So, I am dashing, eh, Miss Phoebe? A little, I think. Well, I have something to tell you today, which I really think is rather dashing. Oh, dear. I say, Miss Susan, you're not going before you know what it is. Oh, I know, Mr. Brown. Susan! Well, I mean, I don't know. I mean... So, you both know. And I flattered myself for such a secret. Am I to understand that you had foreseen it all, Miss Phoebe? And they, sir, you must not ask that. Anyhow, it was you who first put it into my head. Oh, I hope not. Your demure eyes flashed every time the war was mentioned. The war? What is it you have to tell us? That I have enlisted, Miss Phoebe. Could you surmise it was something else? You are going to the war, Mr. Brown. Is this a jest? Not at all. I've chafed for months. I want to see whether I have any courage. I think you have done bravely, Mr. Brown. I leave tomorrow for the barracks in London. So, this is goodbye. I shall pray that you may be preserved in battle, Mr. Brown. And will you write to me when occasion offers? If you wish it. With all the stirring news of qualities to eat. It seems stirring to us. It must have been merely laughable to you who came here from a great city. You delicious, Miss Phoebe. When I first came here, I felt sorry that one so sweet and young should live so gray a life. I wondered whether I could put any little pleasures into it. Oh, you mean the picnics we had together, chaperone by Miss Susan? Oh, that was only how it began. The soon I knew that it was I who got the pleasures and you who gave them. You have been to me, Miss Phoebe, like a quiet, old-fashioned garden, full of the flowers that Englishmen love best and because they have known them longest, the daisy that stands for innocence and the hyacinth for constancy, the modest violet and the rose. For when I am far away, ma'am, I shall often think of Miss Phoebe's pretty soul, which is her garden, and I shall shut my eyes and walk in it. Phoebe, you seem so calm. Susan, what Mr. Brown is so obliging to inform us is not what we expected. Not that at all. He's enlisted for the wars and he came to tell us goodbye, going away. Am I not the ideal recruitment? A man without a wife or a mother or a sweetheart? No sweetheart? Have you one for me, Miss Susan? Wait, wait. Susan, we shall have to tell him now. You dreadful man, Mr. Brown. You will say it is just like quality street. But ever since you told me earlier today that you had something to tell me, we've been puzzling over it and we concluded that it was that you are going to be married. Oh, was that it? So like... so like women, you know, we thought perhaps we knew her. We were even discussing what we should wear at the wedding. I shall often think of this. Oh, I wonder who would have me. But I must be off. So, God bless you both. You are going. We shall miss you very much, Mr. Brown. Oh, there is one little matter that I forgot. That investment I advised you to make, I'm happy it has turned out so well. It was good of you to take all that trouble, sir. Except our greatful thanks. Oh, I am indeed glad that you are so comfortably provided for. You must remember I'm your big brother. Well, goodbye again. Goodbye, Mr. Brown. A misunderstanding. Just a mistake. A mistake. Oh, Phoebe, my dear. Don't. Don't, Susan. Don't. He is a fiend in human form. No, don't say that either. He's a brave gentleman. The money. Why did you not tell him? So that he might propose marriage to me out of pity. Oh, but Phoebe, how are we to live with half our money gone? We could keep a little school for genteel children. Only, of course, I would do most of the teaching. You are a school mistress. Oh, Phoebe of the ringlets. Why, everyone would laugh. I should hide the ringlets away in an old maid's hat. And people will soon forget them. And I shall try to look stale and to grow old quickly, if you'll not be so hard as you think, dear. Oh, there are other gentlemen who were attracted to you, Phoebe, and you turned them away. I did not want them. No, they'll come again. And others too. No. No, never speak of that to me anymore. I let him kiss me. You could not, didn't you? Yes, I could. I know I could now. I wanted him to do it. Oh, never speak to me of others after that. Perhaps he saw that I wanted it and did it to please me. But I meant that I gave him the kiss with all my love. Sister, I could bear all the rest that I've been un-lady-like. Before we continue with Quality Street, starring Ruth Chatterton and Brian Ahern, we want to take you to an attractive one-story house on one of Hollywood's numerous hills. A man and his wife and their pretty daughter live there. We'll say their name is Brown. And Mrs. Brown is saying... Peg's awfully late tonight. They were to shoot her big scene today. You know, sometimes I think she works too hard at this moving picture business. There she is, I guess. Now, don't scold her. Peg, you're late. Have a good day. Oh, Mother, don't ask me. We had to shoot that telephone thing 22 times. It seemed to me I was running up and down stairs all day long. Maybe you don't think that's worth it. Of course it is, but it's worth it. Now, calm yourself and let's have some dinner. Oh, I can't. Davey's coming for me at eight. And I can't park up the coconut grove with him. Oh, dear, he'll expect me to be full of pep, and I'm so tired I could flop. I'll never make it. But Peg did make it. She took a warm, fragrant, lux toilet soap bath, just as screen stars do when they're worn out from too much work. A lux toilet soap beauty bath makes you feel refreshed, alive, and most important, its active lather sinks deep into your pores and frees them of impurities that may remain to choke them. When you use lux toilet soap, you're sure you're dainty. Certain your skin is sweet. Peg's found out that daintyness pays dividends in popularity. She knows that's why Davey says to her as they glide past at the coconut grove. Gee, Peggy, you are a peach. Let's stay until the music stops, hmm? Honest, I could dance forever when I'm dancing with you. Be sure you protect daintyness the lux toilet soap way. Keep skin clear, smooth, dainty. With this soap, the screen stars you. Start today. And once again, Mr. DeMille. We continue with Quality Street, starring Ruth Chatterton as Phoebe Throssell and Brianna Hearn as Valentine Brown. Ten years have passed. Phoebe and Susan are now teaching school and the once charming sitting room is a jumble of maps and blackboards. Miss Phoebe, her ringlet's hidden under an old maid's cap is seated at a desk, looking care-worn and tired. From the classroom comes Miss Susan, looking very agitated. Hey, Nathan, how many for 11 and 11? William Smith says it's 15, and he's such a big boy. Do you think I ought to contradict him? May I see there are differences of opinion about it? Oh, no one can really be sure, Phoebe. It's 11. I once worked it out with real herring. Oh, Susan, Isabella's father insists on her acquiring algebra. What is algebra, exactly? If it goes three corners, things. It's X minus Y equals Z plus Y and things like that. And all the time you're saying they're equal, do you feel in your heart there nothing of the sort? Listen, Phoebe, the music for tonight's ball. The ball? Oh, a gay evening for some people. We must not grudge their rejoicing, Susan. It is not everywhere that there is a water loo to celebrate. No, I was not thinking of that. I was thinking that he will be at the ball tonight, Valentine's Browse. And we've not seen him for 10 years. Yes, 10 years. We shall be glad to welcome our old friend back for a week, Susan. You're not going to the ball? No. Dancing is not for the village school, miss Susan. But he might pay us a call. Dear me, I must get back to the children. Good afternoon. A coming, sir. Captain Brown reports himself at home again. Oh, you call this home? When the other men talked of their homes, miss Susan, I thought of this room. Who would want this? Neps, desks, blackboards? Well, it looks like a schoolroom. It is. Ah, well. Hi, oh, it is still the same, dear room. Miss Susan, I have a choice to find no change in you. And miss Phoebe? Miss Phoebe of the Ringlets? I hope there'll be as little change in her. Phoebe of the Ringlets, oh. Oh, Captain Brown, you need not to expect to see her. She is not here. I bow. It spoils all my homecoming. You and that dreadful Smith boy. Oh, Captain Brown. Miss Phoebe, is it you, miss Phoebe? Yes, I have changed very much. I have not worn well, Captain. We are both old-time, miss Phoebe. Phoebe, dear, the cloth. I think you can dismiss them, dear. The back way, Phoebe. The back way, Susan, and keep them quiet. Yes, dear. Teaching school is sometimes a trial, Captain Brown. The children are very dear. Oh, ma'am, if only you had invested all your money as you laid out part by my advice. What a monstrous pity you did not. We never thought of it. You look so tired. I have the headache today. You did not use to have a headache? Curse those dear children. No, you do not distress yourself about me. Tell me of yourself. We are so proud of the way in which you won your commission. Will you leave the army now? Yes, and I have some intention of setting up a surgery and pursuing a game in the old life in quality history. I have been here in such high spirits, miss Phoebe. The change in me depresses you. I was in hopes that you and Miss Susan would be going to the ball. I had brought cards for you to make sure. But now you see that my dancing days are done. Miss Phoebe, what a dull, gray world it is. Miss Phoebe, I sent them off. And I'm standing to make some tea. You will have some tea, Captain Brown. Thank you, Miss Susan. I think not. Some other time, perhaps. Oh, yes, of course. You've just returned. There must be many duties to perform. Oh, but just wait a few days. And then the dashing Mr. Brown will drop in as of old. And behold, Miss Susan on her knees once more, putting tucks into my little friend, the ottoman. And Miss Phoebe. Miss Phoebe. Phoebe of the Ringlet. I have no ringlets now, Captain Brown. You keep school now, ma'am. There are more important things than ringlets to be considered. Well, uh. You will come again soon, Captain. Oh, I shall regard it as a privilege, Miss Susan. Good day. Good day, Captain. Good day, Miss Phoebe. Good day, sir. I wish you very happy at the ball. Thank you, Miss Phoebe. Phoebe. Susan. He's forced me old. My dear, he thought I was old because I'm weary. He looked so pityingly at me. How dare he look so pityingly at me? Because I've had to work so hard. Is it a crime when a woman works? Because I've tried to be courageous. Have I been courageous, Susan? Heaven knows you have, but it has given me the headache. It has tired my eyes. Alas, Miss Phoebe, all your charm has gone, for you have the headache and your eyes are tired. My eyes are tired because for 10 years, I've seen nothing but maps and death. 10 years ago, I went to bed a young girl, and I woke with this pincer's cap on my head. Oh, it isn't fair. This is not me, Susan. This is some other person. Oh, I want to be myself. Phoebe, Phoebe, you have always been so patient. Oh, no. No, not always. If you only knew how I've rebelled at times, you'd turn from me in horror. Susan, I have a picture of myself as I used to be. I sometimes look at it. I sometimes kiss it and say, poor girl, I've all forgotten you. But I remember. I cannot recall it. I keep it locked away in my room. My room. Oh, Susan, it's there that the Phoebe you think so patient has the hardest fight with herself. I've heard her singing as if she thought she was still a girl. I've heard her weeping. Perhaps it was only I who was weeping. But she seemed to cry to me, let me out of this prison. Give me back the years you have taken from me. Oh, where are my pretty girls? She cries. Where is my youth? My youth, Phoebe. Go into my room, Susan. I shall show you the picture of Phoebe. The Phoebe who used to be. Oh, yes, Patty. Here are the tea things, ma'am. Thank you, Patty. But I don't think we shall have it just now. Captain Brown couldn't say. Oh, is Miss Phoebe to go to the ball this evening, ma'am? I'm afraid not, Patty. Oh, she's a pretty ma'am. 10 years ago, she might have gone. But now, oh, the pretty thing that she was, Miss Susan. Do you remember, Patty? I think there's no other person who remembers, unless it be Miss Willoughby or Miss Henrietta. Susan, go to the picture of the old Phoebe's youth. Miss Phoebe, is this really you? Yes, Patty. Please believe us for a while. I wish to speak to my sister. Yes, ma'am. Yes, Miss Phoebe. Phoebe, that's the rest you're wearing. An old one, Phoebe, that I've kept away all these years. Is it pretty? Yes, beautiful. And your hair, your ringlets, oh, they're just as they used to be, Phoebe. Yes. Oh, student, this is the picture of my old self that I keep locked away in my room, and sometimes take out of its box to look at. Oh, marvelous. Perhaps I should not do it. But it's so easy. I have got to put on an old gown and tumble my curls out of the cap. Sister, am I as changed as he says I am? You almost frightened me. You're so young, Phoebe. Oh, you're like a girl again. Like a girl. Listen, the music at the ball is calling to me, Susan. See, my curls have begun to dance. They're so anxious to dance. One dance, Susan, to Phoebe of the ringlet, and then I will put her away in her box and never look at her again. Ma'am, may I have the honor? In your name, then I shall dance alone. There's someone at the door. If you hear me, someone is coming. Miss Phoebe. No, no, no, no, no, no, Patti. Not Miss Phoebe. I'm someone else tonight. I'm, uh, let me see. I'm my niece. See who it is? I did see Miss Susan. She's Captain Brown. Captain Brown. Miss Susan, let him see her. I'll show him in. I'll not be here. Love me in. Thank you. If you'll just get in here, Captain Brown. Thank you. Ah, good afternoon. I'll wager you didn't expect to see me so soon, Miss. Oh, I beg your pardon. Good afternoon, sir. I'm sorry. I, uh, I thought it was Miss Phoebe. No, sir. Give me Miss, Miss, Miss, Miss. She's on a visit here. Oh, excuse me, ma'am. Patti, I obtained this bottle of medicine at the Apothecaries for Miss Phoebe's headache. It should be taken at once. Oh, Miss Phoebe's lying down, sir. Is she asleep? No, sir. I think she's wide awake, sir. Well, it may soon, sir. Patti, take it to Aunt Phoebe at once. Yes, Miss. Yes, ma'am. Uh, perhaps I may venture to present myself, Miss, uh... Miss, uh... Miss Libby, sir. I am Captain Brown, Miss Libby, an old friend of both your aunts. How do you do? I was sure you must be related. Indeed, for a moment, the likeness... even the voice. No, sir, you mean I'm like Aunt Phoebe? Everyone says so, and indeed, she's no compliment. Uh, it would have been a compliment once. You must be a daughter of the excellent Mr. James Throssell, who used to reside at Great Buckland. Uh, Miss Libby, you go to the ball tonight? Well, sir, I have no card. I have two cards for your aunts. As Miss Phoebe has the headache, your aunt Susan must take you to the ball. You'll enjoy it tremendously, I'm sure. Oh, sir, do you think some handsome gentleman might be partial to me at the ball? If that is your wish. I should love, sir, to inspire frenzy in the breast of the male. But I dare not go. I dare not. But afternoon, Captain Brown. Ah, Miss Susan, I have venture to introduce myself to your charming niece. I beg your pardon. Aunt Susan, do not be angry with your Libby. Your Libby, Aunt Susan. This gentleman says he's the dashing Mr. Brown. He has cards for us for the ball, aren't he? Phoebe. Aunt Phoebe wants me to go. If I say she does, you know she does. But my dear, my dear. I shall see to it, Miss Susan, that your niece has a charming ball. He means he'll find me sweet partner. Hey, ma'am. I mean that I shall be your partner. Aunt Susan, he still dances. Still, ma'am? Oh, sir, you are indeed dashing. Oh, nay, sir, please not to scowl. I could not avoid noticing them. Noticing what, Miss Libby? The gray hairs, sir. I bow, ma'am. There is not one in my head. Oh, sir, dissuade her. Nay, nay, I entreat her. Auntie. Think, my dear. Think. We dare not. No. No, we dare not. But we will. Thank you. No use to talk, Aunt Susan. I fix my mind. We go to the ball tonight. We shall be bright and gay and thoughtless and merry. And we shall dance to the dashing Captain Brown. We pause for station identification. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System. We continue shortly with Quality Street, starring Ruth Chatterton and Brian Ahern. Ambitious newcomers are not the only ones given screen tests. The most famous stars in Hollywood are frequently tested to see if they are suited to certain roles. Tests are expensive and are conducted with great care because they're the talent laboratory of the studio. The gentlemen you are about to hear directs the tests at Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studio. Twenty years ago, he worked for me as a property man. Leaving his job to serve in the war, he has since then been a writer and director. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Harold S. Bouquet. Let me first explain how we make a screen test. The person to be tested rehearses a scene from a play. Then in costume, she goes before the camera and the scene is shot with as much care as is given a full-length picture. In testing a newcomer, we watch especially for these points. Does she photograph well? Can she act? And has she a screen personality? By that I mean, does she have the ability to convey to the audience what she's thinking as well as what she says? In casting a new production, we test established actors to choose the ones best fitted to balance the cast. I remember in one picture starring Joan Crawford, I had to direct and listen to 34 crewers before finding one who could act as well as he crewed. You've certainly suffered for your art. I've always sympathized with a screen test director. He's probably the most unpopular man on a lot because every performer fears his camera. That goes for some of the biggest actors too. I've seen them go to pieces and forget their lines when it's a test for themselves. On the other hand, they're always willing to help out a newcomer by playing opposite him, giving him confidence and support. Perhaps you've been told you're the image of Miss Greta Garbo or Mr. Robert Taylor. That won't help you pass a screen test. At best, you'll only be a good imitation. Be yourself. Develop your own dignity, humor, sweetness or strength. The truth will out in your screen test. Clear, vibrant skin helps immeasurably to convey charm and life. A good way to achieve vibrant skin is by using soap and water. And of course, the soap used so much here in Hollywood is lutz, toilet soap. Perhaps you can tell the girls listening to this program how to make their own screen test without a camera. Surely. Just check the following points. Have you an honest, natural smile? Do you keep your appearance attractive with lovely skin, clear sparkling eyes, even regular teeth? Is your voice pleasing? Watch your friends while you talk and if they become restless, you can be reasonably certain your voice is irritating. Can you retell a story you think is funny and make other people laugh? If you can't, don't blame it on the story. Your timing ability and sense of dramatic values need developing. Do you use your hands gracefully? Is your posture good? Do you walk with a spring or a slouch? Let your mirror answer that. Do you keep your friends when you're financially embarrassed? If they don't drop away when you're unable to entertain them, you can be positive you have a personality that stands at least an even chance of success. Thank you. Good night. Good night, Harold. Back to our story Quality Street, starring Ruth Chatterton and Brian Ahun. We're at the ball where Miss Phoebe, disguised as her non-existent niece, Miss Livy, is trying to recapture her lost youth and attract the dashing Captain Brown. On a balcony overlooking the garden, Miss Susan is talking to Miss Willoughby and Miss Henrietta, the oldest and most maidenly ladies the town has to offer. Your niece, Miss Livy, seems to be enjoying herself, Susan. Yes, Miss Willoughby. She loves to dance. The young men are quite infatuated about her. Do you think so, Miss Henrietta? Ensign Blaise and the Terence Spicer have blamed her every dark when the gallant Captain Brown has not. She's remarkable, Susan, how greatly your niece favours her Aunt Phoebe. Oh, yes, yes. It's not strange, Miss Willoughby. We've often commented on that fact. And how is dear Phoebe, Susan? We have not seen her for nearly a week. Oh, she's poorly, Miss Henrietta. Very poorly? Oh, how sad. Miss Livy, is your brother James Child, I believe you said, Susan? Yes, brother James Child. Strange. I cannot remember that your estimable brother ever had a daughter. I thought all the three were sons. Oh, no, no. Three sons and a daughter. Surely you remember my thinking of little Livy, Miss Henrietta? No, Susan. I do not. The music has stopped. Your niece is coming this way. Oh, yes, yes. If you'll excuse me. Oh, are we not to meet her, Susan? Oh, yes, certainly. If you wish it, I'll pass. Don't come now. You've been dancing a lot. Yes, yes, yes. Gentlemen, you must excuse me. I must speak to my aunt. Will you be long, Miss Livy? I shall try not to be. Then we shall try to wait patiently, ma'am. Come then, Susan. Farewell, Miss Livy. Farewell, ma'am. Farewell, gentlemen. Oh, Susan, I... Oh, my dear. Oh, I beg your pardon. I didn't know you were engaged. Livy, my dear, these are two old friends of mine. My niece Livy, Miss Willoughby and Miss Turnbull. How do you do? How do you do? Excuse me, I'm... One moment, Miss Livy. May I ask how many brothers you have? Two. Two? I thank you. Oh, two excluding the unhappy Thomas. The unhappy Thomas? Yes, we never mention him. I think I shall go. Come, Miss Henrietta. Yes, my dear. Good night, Susan. Good night, Miss Livy. Good night. Good night, Susan. You think they suspect? I know they do. How could they help it? Why didn't you tell me they were here? I didn't know myself until they came and sat next to me. Oh, Phoebe, the scandal. You, a school mistress, letting out vagiously with every younger man to the ball, and allowing them to propose to me, too. You didn't. Yes. Oh, who were they? Ensign Blades, Lefton and Allen, and Major Linkwater. Phoebe, what is to be done? If Miss Willoughby and Miss Henrietta find out about these proposals, they'll tell all quality streets. We can never open school again. We shall starve. That horrid, forward-flirting, heartless, hateful little toad of Olivia. Oh, it's not her fault. I know who it is that has turned you into this silly wild creature that odious, cruel Valentine wrongs. Poor blind man. To weary of Phoebe, patient lady like Phoebe, the Phoebe whom I have lost, to turn from her and then become enamored in a single night of a silly imposter like Miss Libby. Yes, he is infatuated with Libby. Susan, there's been a declaration in his eyes all tonight, and when he cries, adorable Miss Libby, mine, I mean to answer with a, oh, Lord, how ridiculous you are. You're much too old. I've been but teasing you, sir. Oh, Phoebe, how can you be so cruel? Because he's taken from me the one great glory that is in a woman's life. Not a man's love. She can do without that. But her own dear, sweet love for him. He's unworthy of my love. That's why I can be so cruel. Oh, dear. Miss Libby. Oh, yes, Captain Brown aren't you. The Lord Captain, why are you not dancing? Indeed, ma'am. It is because I have something of more importance to attend to. I wish to speak to you, Miss Libby. May I, Miss Susan? Oh, yes, Captain. Libby, I think it's almost time we left. I'll go fetch your cloak, dear. Thank you, Aunt Susan. Won't you sit down, Captain? Thank you. You're looking rather grim, Captain. What is it you have to speak to me about? Miss Libby, you're an amazing pretty girl, ma'am. Oh, Captain. But you're a shocking flirt. Oh, Lord. It has somewhat diverted me to watch the men go down before you. Ah, but I know you have a kind heart. And if there be a rapier in your one hand, there is a hankerchief in the other, ready to stanch their wounds. I have not observed that they bled much. The blades and the like. Oh, but one may, perhaps. Perhaps I may wish to see him bleed. For shame, Miss Libby. I speak, ma'am, in the interest of the men to whom I hope to see you affianced. Oh, please, to say nothing. I am feeling faint. No, no, no. We must have it out. Then if you must go on, do so. Who is this happy man? Mr. Who he is, ma'am. Of course, I have no notion. Oh. Nor I am sure have you else you would be more guarded in your conduct. But someday, Miss Libby, the right man will come. Not to be able to tell him all. Would it not be hard? And how could you acquaint him with this poor sport? His face would change, ma'am, as you told him of it. And yours would be a false face until it was told. This is what I have been so desirous to say to you. By the right of a friend. I see. Oh, it has been hard to say. And I have done it bunglingly. Ah, but believe me, Miss Libby, it is not the flaunting flower that named love. It is the modest violet. The modest violet? You dare to say that? Yes, indeed. And when you are acquainted with what love really is... Love? What do you know of love? My ma'am, I know all about it. I am in love, Miss Libby, with a lady who was once very like you, ma'am. Not... Not... Oh, no. I hadn't meant to speak of it, but why shouldn't I? It'll be fine. Listen to you, Miss Libby. Ma'am, it is your aunt Phoebe who my love. You do not mean that. Most ardently. It is not true how dare you make sport of her. Is it sport the wish that she may be my wife? Your wife? If I could win her. May I solicit, sir, for how long you have been attached to Miss Phoebe? For nine years, I think. You think? No, I want to be honest. Never in all that time had I thought myself in love with your aunts and my dear friends. And while I was at the wars, we sometimes wrote to each other, but they were only friendly letters. I presume the affection was too placid to be loved. I think that would be on Phoebe's opinion. Yet I remember before we went into action for the first time, I suppose the fear of death was upon me. Some of them were making their wills. I have no near relative. I left everything to those two ladies. Did you? And when I returned and saw Miss Phoebe, grown so tired looking and so poor. The shock made you feel old, I know. No, Miss Libby. But it filled me with a sudden passion of regret that I had not been killed in that first engagement. They would have been very comfortably left. Oh, sir. Oh, I am not calling it love. It was sweet and kind, but it was not love. It is love now. No, it's only pity. It is love. You really mean Phoebe, tired, unattractive Phoebe, that woman whose girlhood is gone. May be possible. Phoebe of the fascinating playful ways, whose ringlets were once as pretty as yours, ma'am. Memories. Yes, that is the Phoebe you love, the bright girl of the past, not the schoolmistress in her old maid's cap. Ah, there you wrong me. For I have discovered for myself that the schoolmistress in her old maid's cap is the no-blessed Miss Phoebe of them all. When I enlisted, I remember I compared her to a garden. I've often thought of that. She's an old garden now. The paves, ma'am, are better shaded. The flowers have grown old-fashioned. They smell of the sweeter. Miss Libby, do you think there is any hope for me? There was a man who Miss Phoebe loved long ago. He did not love her. Oh, he was a fool. He kissed her one. If Miss Phoebe suffered him to do that, she thought he loved her. Do you think that this makes her action in allowing it less reprehensible? It has been such a pain to her ever since. I like Miss Phoebe. But that man was a name. No, he was a good man. He was only a little inconsiderate. She knows now that he has even forgotten that he did it. I suppose men are like that. Oh, Miss Libby, men are not like that. I am a very average man, but I thank God I am not like that. It was you. If Miss Phoebe say that, then it is true. It was raining, and her face was wet. You said you did it because her face was wet. I had quite forgotten. But she remembered. And how often do you think the shameful memory has made her face wet since? The face you love, Captain Brown. You were the first to give it pain. The tired eyes. How much less tired they might be if they'd never known you. You who are torturing me with every word. What have you done to Miss Phoebe? Do you think you can ever bring back the bloom to that faded garden? Oh, I shall do my best. I shall go to her. Miss Phoebe, I will say. All men so reverently. Miss Phoebe, my beautiful, most esteemable of women. Let me take care of you forevermore. Beautiful. No, Miss Phoebe. Amen. You may laugh at our rough soldiers, I imagine, but it is true. Marry me, Miss Phoebe, I will say. And I will take you back through those years of hardship that have made your sweet eyes too patient. Instead of growing older, you shall grow younger. We will travel back together and pick up the many little joys and pleasures that you had to pass by when you trod that thorny part alone. Can't be. Can't be. Hey, Miss Phoebe has loved me. Did you yourself have said it? I did not mean to tell you. She will be my wife yet. Never. You are severe, Miss Libby. It is because you are partial to her, and I am happy of that. I partial to her? I'm laughing at both of you. Miss Phoebe, Lord, that old thing. Silence. I hate her and despise her. If you knew what she is. I know what you are. That paragon who has never been guilty of the slightest deviation from the strictest propriety. Never. That garden. Miss Libby, for shame. Your garden has been destroyed, sir. The woods have entered it and all the flowers have choked. You false woman, what do you mean? I'll tell you. What faith do you have in her? As in my God. I cannot tell you. No, no. You cannot. It is too horrible. You are too horrible? Is not that it? Here at your club, dear. The carriage is waiting to take us home. Answer me, Miss Libby. Is it not that you are too horrible? Yes, that is it. Libby, horrible. Explain yourself, Captain Brown. Ma'am, I leave the telling of it to her. If she dare. And I devoutly hope that those are the last words I shall ever address to this lady. Ma'am, your servant. My love, my dear. What terrible thing has he said to you. Not terrible, glorious. Susan, kiss Libby he loves. Kiss me, not Libby. He loves me. He loves me. Me, Libby. Why, Miss Libby owns the ball so early. Miss Libby has had a shock. No, Miss Libby's had a shock. A glorious shock that she richly deserved. Then you must have added a lifeful time at the ball. And that's the main thing. Who can that be? She's an imperious knock. A military knock. Is it a dashing knock? Maybe it's Captain Brown. Oh, he mustn't see me. Patty, don't answer the door. I'm out of sight, Susan. Tell him Miss Libby's been taken suddenly ill. I can't, Susan. I won't, Susan. Oh, Patty, have the ladies retired. I must speak to Miss Libby. Ah, Miss Susan. Where is Miss Libby? Oh, sir, you cannot see her. She's been taken with a sudden indisposition. She is ill? Where is she? You cannot see her. She's a deaf door. Then I must see her as a physician. It is my duty. No, no, no. Patty? Where is Miss Libby's room? I shall go to her at once. Oh, no, no, no. I beg of you. I shall rout her in the squatter to you. Good. And bring some heavy wraps and ashaws. She mustn't catch a chill. Yes, yes. Patty, why have these dear ladies been deceiving me? Well, whatever do you mean, sir? I have talked to Miss Willoughby and Miss Henrietta at the ball. I feel that their suspicions are correct. Oh, sir, what suspicions? Patty, there is no such person as Libby. Is there? Captain Brown? Miss Phoebe has been posing as Miss Libby. Hasn't she? I... I... Well, yes, sir. Why has she done this? Because you that began it all by not recognizing her in a ringlet for the last time you were seeing her. Why has this deception been kept up for so long? Because you would not see through it. She thought you were infatuated with her when she posed as Miss Libby because she was so young and silly. Oh, it is infamous. She was all in playful innocence at first, but now she's... she's so feared of you that she's... we feel so to death. That will be all, Patty. You may go now. Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Oh, yes, Miss Susan. I am happy to inform you, sir, that Libby finds herself much improved. It is a joy to me to hear it. She's coming to see you. Oh, I shall be happy to see the poor in the lead. Come in, Libby dear. Yes, sir. Oh, you're seventh, Miss Libby. How do you do? Allow me to help you to the couch, Miss Libby. No, no, I can walk alone. How do you think she's looking, Captain Brown? A little drawn. But I believe she will recover. Thank heaven. May I say, Miss Libby, it surprises me that you should be said to be like your Aunt Phoebe. Of course you have the ringlets, but Miss Phoebe has decided the shorter and more thick set. No, I'm not. I said Miss Phoebe. Oh. Oh, yes. Well, Miss Susan, I think I could cure your niece but unreservedly into my hand. I'm sure you could. Then you are my patient, Miss Libby. It was but a passing in disposition. I'm almost quite recovered. Oh, you still require attention. But I believe that your home is the best place for you. Would that I could go. You are going. Yes, soon. Indeed, I have a delightful surprise for you, Miss Libby. You are going tonight. Tonight? Not merely tonight, but now, as it happens, my carriage is standing idle at your door and I am to take you in it to your home. Sir, I declined to go. What a stubborn patient you are. Miss Susan, can't you persuade her? Indeed, Captain, I cannot. Oh, well, then I must speak to Miss Phoebe. Oh, dear. Where is she? I cannot tell. You don't know? Very strange. She is your aunt. Is she not? Oh, sir, I... You are her niece. Yes, her niece. And yet you don't know where she is. I cannot tell. Then perhaps, ma'am, I can help you. You, sir? Miss Phoebe, dear creature, is here in this room with us now. She calls herself Miss Libby. But we know it's just in sport. And more to her own confusion than mine. Phoebe, he knows. Captain Brown, I... I will explain everything to your satisfaction. No need for explanations. Miss Libby is no more. That charming little flirt. And now, Phoebe Flushle, will you be Phoebe Brown? You know everything, and that I am not a garden? I know everything, ma'am. Accept that. Then the dictates of my heart enjoin me to accept your true flattering offer. Miss Phoebe, it is not raining. But your face is wet. I wish always to kiss you when your face is wet. Oh, sir. Kiss you, then, also. The romance of Phoebe Flushle and Valentine Brown comes to its happy conclusion. But before our program concludes, Ruth Chatterton and Brianna Hearn will be back at the microphone. When the late Theodore Roberts, one of the screen's great character actors, was performing on the San Francisco stage, he took a liking to a young news boy and got him a job in the play Barbara Fricci. All the boy had to do was put on the limb of a tree and shout, the Yankees are coming. During his performance, the lad took a bow. But it was a bow from the tree on which he was sitting, which crashed to the floor with him, creating the biggest laugh in the play. From then on, he insisted he was an actor, and for a $2 raise agreed to fall at every performance. That literally is how Mervyn Leroy crashed into the show business. Today, as producer and director at Warner Brothers Studio, he has to his credit such pictures as Tugboat Annie, producer, five star, final. I am a fugitive from a chain gang and the great current hit, Anthony Advers. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Mervyn Leroy. Thank you, CB. My first job in pictures was in the wardrobe department for $12.5 a week. I thought I was getting into the movies and I found myself in the cloak and suit business so I quit. Then you managed to catch my brother, William DeMille, in a weak moment and convinced him you were a great cameraman. I remember the first picture you shot under his direction was all out of focus, attractive quality never seen before and we decided you were a genius. Well, I was smart, so I quit being a genius. I got myself a job as an actor for you, Mr. Mervyn. Mervyn played the role for me in triumph. The scene was in a canning factory and among other things can during the picture was Mervyn Leroy. Let's skip over that and just say I became a comedy instructor and then a director. I always wanted to be a big director like you, CB. Oh, thank you, Mervyn. It's those clothes you wear, those boots and those britches. Boy, they got me. Then why don't you wear them? I haven't got a horse. Then let me give you a plug right now. You did an excellent job on Anthony Adverse at the grand piece of work. I had a squall time shooting of two with one exception. When I was making the African scenes, I kept the cast at work for four days in the drenching rain. I, of course, had in comfort under a big umbrella. When the scene was finished, Frederick March, Pedro Cordova, asked me, meekly, if that was all. Thanks, boys, I replied. No more rain. Oh, yes, said Freddie. That's what you think. And with that, he and Pedro poured a bucket of water over me. Of course, they offered you a cake of luck soap, with it. That reminds me. You've been knocking me since this interview began. So knock, knock. Who's there? Luck soap. Luck soap that people haven't tuned out. Oh. They won't if you'll stop gagging. Now that you're a producer, as well as a director, would you have made any changes in Anthony Adverse? Just one. And that? I would have fired Mervyn Leroy. Good night. Thank you. Good night, Mervyn. Last week, the national air races were held in Los Angeles. Tonight's leading lady sponsored one of the features. The Ruth Chatterton Air Derby for sportsman pilots. Brianna Hearn planned to compete, and his motion picture contract forbids flying, and he found himself grounded on Quality Street. However, it's a one-way street that leads our stars right back to the microphone. Ladies and gentlemen, Ruth Chatterton and Brianna Hearn. I really had no thought of ever flying, Mr. DeMille, but Ruth bullied me into a plane last year. Then I decided to take lessons until I knew how to fly around the field and land the plane, just to prove to her there was nothing in it. While Brianna was up in the air, a bug bit him. He's had the flying fever ever since. That's a bad case, too. Mr. Chatterton and I came to Hollywood, ladies and gentlemen. Mr. DeMille was flying his own plane. Nearly 20 years ago, he first started the first air passenger service in the United States. It operated between Los Angeles, San Francisco and San Diego. Right now, my interests are in the other extreme. I have a diving apparatus. I'm doing a little exploring at the bottom of the ocean. Do you ever dive, Ruth? Only in planes, Mr. DeMille. Oh, well, come down and see me sometime. Gladly would make the date soon, because, you see, I think I'm leaving Hollywood this fall for a season on the New York stage. And success to your boat. Are you flying back? Of course, I always fly, weather permitting. I know of nothing more invigorating. It's almost as invigorating to put my ship down and step into a shallow of luxe saunasope. Luxe has flown with me all over the country. I'm never without a parachute or luxe. You can depend on either to save your skin. I'm particularly... I'm particularly glad to have had you and Brianna in the DeMille production before you left. I tried to get him before, but he was afraid of Hollywood. Well, Hollywood no longer terrifies me, but I still can't understand the autograph hunters. They ask me for my signature, but usually they have the slightest idea whether I'm King Solomon or Mickey Mouse. So, Mr. DeMille, thanks for a grand show. Good night. Good night, Mr. DeMille. Good night, pilots. Happy landing. Thank you, Ms. Chariton and Mr. Ahern. Ladies and gentlemen, this is your announcer, Melville Rui. In a moment, Mr. DeMille returns with word of next week's program. Mr. Ahern appeared on this program through courtesy of Samuel Golden Productions. He is now co-starring with Merle Oberon in the Samuel Golden Picture Covenant with Death. Mr. Rui appeared through courtesy of Warner Brothers Studio, where he has just produced and directed Three Men on the Horse. Mr. DeMille through courtesy of Paramount, Mr. Bouquet, Metro Golden Mayor, and Mr. Silver's 20th Century Fox, whose new picture, Ramona, was musically arranged by Mr. Silver. And now, Mr. DeMille. As a novel, as a play, as a motion picture, Trilbey ranks as one of the classics of literature and drama. Next Monday night, we bring you this story of the little French singer and hypnotist, Sven Gali. Our stars, Miss Grace Moore and Mr. Peter Lari. This musical and dramatic event will mark the opening of the fall season of the Lux Radio Theatre. With Miss Moore in the title role and Mr. Lari as Sven Gali, I can assure you a performance worthy of the occasion. Our sponsors, the makers of Lux Toilet Soap, join me in inviting you to be with us next Monday night in the Lux Radio Theatre presentation of Trilbey, starring Grace Moore and Peter Lari. Today, the motion picture industry suffered one of its greatest losses, Irving Faulberg. The Lux Radio Theatre joins Hollywood and the entire nation in extending deepest sympathy to his wife, Norma Shearer, and his family. To Irving Faulberg, who has brought so many hours of happiness to people the world over, we dedicate these 10 seconds of silence, this is Cecil B. DeMille, saying goodnight to you from Hollywood. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.