 Plum Olive Soap, Your Beauty Hope, and Bluster Cream Shampoo for soft, glamorous, caressible hair bring you Our Miss Brooks starring Eve Arden. After teaching English to the summer school students of Madison High all week long, last Saturday didn't arrive a minute too soon for Our Miss Brooks. Generally the thing I like best about Saturday is that it gives me a full 12 hours to speculate upon just how boring Sunday will be. But last Saturday while I was having breakfast with my landlady, Mrs. Davis, a bombshell was hurled into our usual routine. That's the front door bell, isn't it, Connie? Bell is an overstatement, Mrs. Davis. It used to be a bell years ago. Now it sounds like a dying rattlesnake with a frog in its throat. I wonder who it can be, anyway. All right, I'm coming. Maybe you shouldn't answer it, Connie. I've had the strangest feeling of foreboding all morning. Well, that's silly, Mrs. Davis. It might be good news. Why? Well, why should it be bad news? Why not? Let's have the playoffs when I come back. Good morning. I have a telegram here for a Mrs. Davis. Are you a Mrs. Davis? I'm not a Mrs. anything yet. Don't tell me I've delivered this telegram to the wrong address. Well, I've never been guilty of that in all my years in the service. Well, far be it for me to depress one of our boys in uniform. This is Mrs. Davis' house, all right. I just live with her. Ms. Brooks is the name. How do you do? I'm Herbie Terwilliger. That's my bike at the curb. Glad to know both of you. Give me your receipt book. I'll sign for the wire. All right, here you are, Ms. Brooks. Bottom line, please. All right. Yes, I've been in the service quite a while now. This is my sixth hitch. Really? Never been a plain foot messenger or always been with the bicycle squad. That sounds healthy. Of course. During my long term of duty, I've made a host of friends both in and out of the service. I imagine you have. Now, if you'll just excuse me. Of course, I've lost a few of my buddies, too. Good, hard peddling boys, all of them. I'm sorry, Herbie. Yes, I always think of them when I hear ghost riders in the sky. That song cheers me up, too. I'll take this telegram into Mrs. Davis now. Goodbye, Herbie. Oh, this isn't goodbye, Ms. Brooks. This wire has immediate reply requested printed on it. I'll just wait here on the porch until Mrs. Davis gives me an answer. All right, I'll try to hurry it up for you. I'll appreciate that. I have a slow leak in my rear tire. I'll be back in plenty of time to get it vulcanized. It's for you. What is it, dear? Mrs. Telegram. Oh, I knew it. I knew something terrible was going to happen today. Terrible, but you haven't even opened it yet. And I'm not going to open it, Connie. I've only received half a dozen telegrams in my entire life, and they all brought bad news. This is probably some horrible news about Mrs. Dribbleman. Mrs. Dribbleman? Yes, she went to Switzerland for a vacation. I warned her not to go. She probably fell off one of those Alps. Oh, now really, Mrs. Davis? I'm psychic about these things, Connie. Poor Mrs. Dribbleman. I can just picture her. Skiing down the Alps. Not a care in the world. Suddenly, a treacherous curve. She can't make the turn in time. Over the rim, she goes. She looks down. Nothing but rocky crags, jacked peaks. Why, Connie, you're not touching your breakfast. Suddenly, I'm not hungry. But aren't you going to finish your wheat cakes? Not until you get Mrs. Dribbleman off those peaks. I just remembered, Connie. Mrs. Dribbleman took my advice and decided not to go to Switzerland. She's feeling... she's feeling fine. Well, I'm glad to hear it. I don't want to rush you, Mrs. Davis, but this wire calls for an immediate reply. Right here on the envelope. Let's see. Immediate reply requested. Well, I'm sorry, but I... Wait a minute, Connie. Look where this telegram was sent from. To this cellophane here. Doesn't that say Springdale? Springdale? Yes, it does. Why? That's where Uncle Corky lives. Or maybe now I should say, lived, all. Poor Uncle Corky. He was always so fond of me. He was my mother's oldest brother, you know. We were very close. I'll bet he was just like an uncle to you. Look, Mrs. Davis, aren't you being a little prematurely mournful? After all, you don't know that he's not... Oh, but he must be. He was 87 years old on his last birthday, and he's had the hives for years. Well, maybe he'll outgrow them. When I think of how Uncle Corky used to play santiclaws every Christmas, the kids at Madison, the faculty, everybody loved him. You remember him, don't you, Connie? Of course, Mrs. Davis. He's been coming here every Christmas for years. Here, I'll open this wire and tell you what it says. No, Connie, no. I won't let you open it. Why should you be the one to bring me bad news? I could never again look at you without associating you with Uncle Corky's passing. I like you too much to allow such a tragic bridge to come between us, Connie. I'll do anything to avoid it. Oh, but this is ridiculous, Mrs. Davis. Once I've opened it, you'll see how ridiculous... Today is rent day, Connie. If you leave it unopened, I'll... Well, I won't charge you for this week. Mrs. Davis, I wouldn't open this telegram if you begged me. You promise, Connie? I swear it on this stack of wheat cakes. I know, there's a messenger outside waiting for the immediate reply. I'll ask him to open it. Wait here, Mrs. Davis. Would you come inside a minute, please? Oh, sure. Got the answer, Mrs. Brooks? Not yet. This is Mrs. Davis, Herbie. Mrs. Davis, this is Herbie to Williger. Oh, pleased to meet you. How do you do? Mrs. Davis is a little superstitious about opening telegrams, Herbie. Would you mind? Me? Yes, just open it up, will you? But I can't. That's the first rule I learned in basic training. Thou shalt not monkey with the messages. We don't want you to monkey with it. Just open it. I'm sorry, Mrs. Brooks, but I can't touch it. Can't we forget about it for now? Forget about it? But what'll I tell my CO? This isn't an immediate reply requested. Can't you just tell him there is no reply? What? Me tell the chief there is no reply? Please, Mrs. Davis. That is tantamount to telling the admiral, sir. There are no boats. Well, I don't care about the admiral. I'm going to have another cup of coffee and think this thing over. I'll put enough on for all of us. All right, Mrs. Davis. Why doesn't she want to open the telegram, Mrs. Brooks? I'm afraid it's sheer superstition with her, Herbie. Oh, pardon me. Well, if it isn't Walter Denton... Hiya, Mrs. Brooks. Come in, Walter. What are you doing up so early on a Saturday? I just came by to see if there are any odd jobs I could do for Mrs. Davis. You know, to pick up a little pin money. Well, I don't know about Mrs. Davis, but I'll give you a few pins if you'll do something for me. Come into the living room, will you? You know I'm your slave, Mrs. Brooks. What is it? You can open the telegram. The telegram? Yes. Brought by Herbie to Williger here when he was a much younger man. Herbie, this is Walter Denton. Glad to know you, I'm sure. Hi, but I don't get it, Mrs. Brooks. Why don't you open it? Because it belongs to Mrs. Davis and she asked me not to. Then why doesn't she? A perfectly natural second question. Because she's afraid it might contain some bad news. Well, I'd like to help you out, Mrs. Brooks, but opening other people's messages is very bad luck. Please, Walter, not you, too. You should have been at the Conklin's house with me this morning. I'd sent Harriet a little note and Mr. Conklin opened it by mistake. It was one of my more amorous epistles. You know, solid goo. His opening it was sure unlucky, though. In what way? Right after he read it, he kicked me down the porch steps. I hate to crash headlong into such a nostalgic moment, but this is getting out of hand. Walter, I insist that you open this wire. Gosh, Mrs. Brooks, if you're going to be upset about it, hand it over. Here you are. Stop. You can't do it, Walter. Hi, Mrs. Davis. What's the trouble? You remember Uncle Corky, don't you? Uncle Corky? Oh, all the old fellow with a beard who plays Santa Claus for us every year. Oh, sure I remember him. How is he? He's left us, Walter. I'm afraid that's what this telegram is about. Really? But if it was about that, wouldn't it have a black border on it? No, Uncle Corky has a white beard. She was a nice old guy. Look, why don't we take this wire over to Harriet to open? She's not afraid of anything. You're right, Walter. Anyone who could live with Mr. Conklin for 16 years must be made of iron. We'll take it over to Harriet. You do nothing of the sort. We'll just let it rest on this table for a while. But how about the answer? It's an immediate... Don't argue, Herbie. Maybe if the telegram rests for a while, Uncle Corky will feel better. Look, starring Eve Arden will continue in just a moment. But first, here is Vern Smith. For Bear Skin Beauty, it's bath-sized palm olive with its famous beauty lather. Yes, bath-sized palm olive for loveliness all over. There's something thrillingly new in this wonderful beauty lather of bath-sized palm olive soap. New fragrance, new charm, new allure. See if palm olive in your daily tub or shower doesn't leave your shoulders, arms, and back. Yes, all of you softer and smoother. Completely lovelier all over. You'll thrill to the tender whisper of perfume that leaves on your skin. A whisper that says, come hither to romance. And this new bath-sized palm olive is so big, so thrifty, economical to use because it lasts so long and gives so much soft, lovely lather so fast. That soft, lovely lather with its alluring new fragrance is palm olive soaps alone. Palm olive's famous beauty lather. Yes, a new fragrance, new charm, new allure. That can make every woman a vision of delight in the new revealing fashions that show so much more of you. So remember, for bare-skinned beauty, it's bath-sized palm olive with its famous beauty lather. Yes, bath-sized palm olive for loveliness all over. Get bath-sized palm olive soap tomorrow. Men folk love it too. Well, I finally prevailed upon Mrs. Davis to let me take the telegram over to the conchlands to be opened. When I got to their house, Madison's beloved principal was asleep in a hammock, and Harriet was sitting on the porch steps reading. Hi, Harriet. What's that you're reading? Oh, it's a Western story, Miss Brooks, but please lower your voice. Why, don't you want the Indians to hear? I don't want Daddy to hear you. He's taking a nap on the hammock. I dropped over to ask a favor of you, Harriet. It'll probably sound pretty silly to you, but, well, you know how peculiar Mrs. Davis is sometimes. Of course. I saw this telegram a while ago and simply refuses to open it. She insists that it contains bad news. That is peculiar. I wouldn't mind so much, but it's an immediate reply requested. Oh, Herbie. This is Herbie to Williger, Harriet. Pleased to meet your acquaintance, Miss Conklin. Hello. All I want you to do, Harriet, is to open the wire. Me? But why don't you...? She can't. She promised Mrs. Davis she wouldn't. Oh. Well, then, why don't you...? He can't. First rule of basic training. Not monkey with the messages. Oh, it's all just a lot of superstitious nonsense, Harriet. Here, tear it open and let's get this over with, hmm? Well, if you think it's all right for a stranger to open Mrs. Davis's wire... Stranger? You're no stranger to Uncle Corky, Harriet. As I recall, you're one of his favorite kids here at Madison. Oh, is this wire from Uncle Corky? Mrs. Davis seems to think it's about him, from his next of kin or something. Next of kin? Oh, that dear old gentleman. I'll never forget what a kick he got out of playing Santa Claus at Christmas time. And now he's gone. What is it with that Uncle Corky? The minute you mention his name, people start shoveling. Look, Harriet, all we know is that the telegram comes from Uncle Corky's hometown. You'll just open it now. Well, I'm sorry, Miss Brooks, but I'd rather not. I'm very fond of Mrs. Davis, I don't want to be the one to find out about her, Uncle. Oh, great. What do we do now? This thing is getting bigger than both of us. You're so right, Herbie. But now I really must put my foot down. While you're at it, put your voice down a notch, will you? Mr. Conklin, I didn't know you were away. I wasn't. Now that I am, what is all this about a telegram? It belongs to Mrs. Davis, Mr. Conklin. She won't open it because it concerns her Uncle Corky. Uncle Corky? That old fraud? How can you speak that way? Why, Uncle Corky's the best Santa Claus that Madison ever had. He's a hypocritical old windbag. Time was when I was considered the best Santa Claus Madison ever had. But, Daddy, you said yourself that putting on that big red tummy was a lot of trouble. You'll have more trouble trying to get it off. Uh, look, Mr. Conklin, I'm sorry I disturbed your nap, but if you'll just open this telegram for us... Why should I open it? It makes me mad just to think of that egotistical spotlight-grabbing old foof. What? Don't you see, Daddy? Mrs. Davis is afraid to open the telegram because she thinks it's bad news. About Uncle Foof, uh, Corky. She's afraid that, well, that Uncle Corky will never play Santa again. But what has Mrs. Davis got to... Never play Santa Claus again? You mean she thinks he's... Yes, Daddy. Oh, that poor old gentleman. How well I remember the merry twinkle in his eye. And that rollicking, cheerful voice as he strolled among us. I remember the first time he came to us at Christmas. How artfully he played Chris Kringle. What was it he used to say so cleverly? Oh, yes, yes. Ho, ho, ho. Every word of it, too. There's something I'd like to remind you of, Mr. Conklin. Nobody knows that Uncle Corky has ho, hoed his last ho. So if you'll just open this telegram... Oh, no, no, I'm sorry, Miss Brooks, but I'll have no part of this telegram. Although not addicted to silly superstition, I see no reason to put the whammy on myself. No. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to continue my nap. And if you'll excuse me, I'd like to go to lunch. I'm starved. Certainly, my boy, just run along. I'll get a bite at the drugstore and I'll see you back at Mrs. Davis' house, Miss Brooks. All right, Herbie, goodbye. Goodbye, Herbie. Goodbye, Harriet. Goodbye, Mr. Conklin. Goodbye. Now then, Miss Brooks, if you don't mind, I... Who was that? That's the messenger boy, Mr. Conklin. We've been going steady since breakfast. Oh. Well, if it isn't too unreasonable a request, will you and Harriet talk as softly as possible? That is, if you're staying, Miss Brooks. How could I tear myself away from such a charming host? What are we going to do about this wire, Harriet? I wish I knew, Miss Brooks. Wait a minute. Maybe we can read the message without opening it. How? Stick one of our eyes through the little cellophane window? Oh, no. I'll get a candle and hold it up to the back of the envelope. That way you can see what's inside. Well, we might as well try it, Harriet, because if I don't find out what's going on in Springdale soon, I'll absolutely blow my corky. What Springdale's coming to? What kind of a telegraph outfit is this, anyway? Now, now, simmer down, corky. You've already waited two hours for that immediate reply. Another five minutes doesn't matter. It does when you're 87, boy. Are you sure you sent the message exactly as I gave it to you? Well, I'll try and dig up the master copy for you. How come you're making the trip at this time of year, corky? You usually go away around Christmas, don't you? Well, I used to, but never again. I'm always roped into playing sandy claws at my house. During kids brought me up under Christmas tree, yank on my beard, and yet jingle bells my ears. Well, I'd like to beat them over the head with a chimney. Well, you won't have to worry about Christmas this trip, corky. You can take advantage of this nice July weather. Play some golf or something. No, not me. I gave up golf a month ago. Why? At my age, I don't feel safe being so close to a hole in the ground. I don't feel safe playing golf. I don't feel safe being so close to a hole in the ground. Bad for my hives. But I'm going to make this vacation of mine a real wing-ding, boy. You know, my niece has a young school teacher living with her, a real looker, what I mean. Hot stuff. Hey, corky? Oh, she's groovy, Jack. Oh, yeah. Here's that wire you send to Mrs. Davis, corky. I'll read it to you, shall I? That'd be just super. I think tonight, please advise if you can put me up. Have one week to live a little and would like to spend it with you. Love, Uncle corky. Can't understand what's holding up the answer. Well, I'm taking the next train regardless. Lay out your best bib and tucker, Bruxy. Here I come, laughing and scratching. A little closer to the candle, Miss Brooks. There. Can you see anything yet? Yes, Harriet. I can make out three words very clearly. What do they say, Miss Brooks? Don't write telegraph. I'm leaving a little closer to the flame. That's too close, Miss Brooks. Look out, the telegram's on fire. Oh, no. Miss Brooks should drop it. Well, under the circumstances, Harriet, I thought it highly advisable. You see, I left my asbestos gloves at the laundromat. Quick, Miss Brooks, step on it. I'm glad I didn't wear my open-toed shoes today. What on earth is all this racket? Oh, it's you. Miss Brooks, you dance divinely. Thank you, Mr. Conklin. This is the step that won me a cup at the fireman's ball. I see. Well, if you're quite finished with your little flame dance, Miss Brooks, I trust that your next step will be a long one in the direction of your home. First, we've got to find out what's in the telegram, or what's left of it. It's from Uncle Corky. So, the hammy old goat's alive after all. What is it, Miss Brooks? Well, some of it's been destroyed, Harriet. What's left says, Arriving tonight, have one week to live. Oh. Poor Uncle Corky. I remember when I last saw him, there was a merry twinkle in his eye, and he was hoping he would live to see one more Christmas. But now he's leaving us. Wait, wait, I have an idea. Uncle Corky will have another Christmas tonight. Christmas in July? Harriet, get ready to do some Christmas shopping. Yes, Daddy. And Miss Brooks, decorate your living room. Get a Christmas tree, artificial snow, bright colored lights. We're going to give Uncle Corky the best Christmas he ever had. Oh, Uncle Corky will simply adore this Christmas tree, Connie. It's a silver fur, isn't it? Yes, it'll match his beard beautifully. I hope the others get here with their Christmas gifts before Uncle Corky arrives. It's already eight o'clock, and they said they'd... What was that? Oh, that's Herbie. He fell asleep on the couch this afternoon, waiting for the immediate reply. Poor Herbie. His CO will think he's gone over the hill. Mrs. Davis, would you plug this in the socket, please? I want to see how the tree looks with the lights on. All right, Connie. There. How does it look? Lovely, Mrs. Davis. Really beautiful. A Christmas tree? Have I been here that long? Never mind the day. What's the month? You fell asleep on the couch. You've only been here 12 hours. 12 hours? Have you got the immediate reply yet? What's your rush? Oh, excuse me. Brooks. Merry Christmas. Ho, ho! A pair of perspiring carolers just strayed in. Carried, dear, and ours good. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Ho, ho, ho! They'll... they'll drum me out of the service for this. Now the spirit of the Yule Tide is in the air, and what a lovely Christmas tree. And look at those luxuriant pine needles. That's Herbie. He needs a shave. Are they beautiful, Miss Brooks? In two years, I would have been up for a pension. You folks can put your gifts under the tree. Oh, excuse me. Merry Christmas, Miss Brooks. And a happy Easter to you, Walter. Come into the living room. Friends, we've been joined by one of Santa's little helpers. Meh! Oh, it's you, Denton. Look out the window. There's a cab at the curb, and Uncle Corky's getting out of it. Now let's get together on this. To succeed in brightening his remaining days, we've really got to make him believe it's Christmas. Give him that old Yule Tide spirit. We know what to do, Miss Brooks. Just wait till old Corky topples through that door. I left the latch off the door, Connie. Come in, Uncle Corky. Hello, Margaret. I... Let him have it, folks. Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle! What about your big oaf? We want you to have one more real Christmas. Christmas? What did I do? Drop into a nest of cuckoos? Oh, please, Uncle Corky, we want this week to be the happiest you've ever spent. Well, then how about getting some of these people out of here and leaving me alone with Miss Brooks? That, Connie, Uncle Corky is fond of you. Oh, that's very touching, Uncle Corky, but isn't this your last week? Might well be, sis, but what a way to go. Turns in just a moment, but first... It's a beautiful luster cream, girl. Tonight, yes, tonight, show him how much lovelier your hair can look after a luster cream shampoo. Luster cream, world's finest shampoo. No other shampoo in the world gives you K-Dumont's magic blend of secret ingredients plus gentle aniline. Not a soap, not a liquid. Luster cream shampoo leaves hair three ways lovelier. Fragrantly clean, free of loose dandruff, glistening with sheen, soft, manageable. Even in hardest water, luster cream lathers instantly. No special rinse needed after a luster cream shampoo. So gentle, luster cream is wonderful even for children's hair. Tonight, yes, tonight, try luster cream shampoo. Dream girl, dream girl, beautiful luster cream girl. You owe your crowning glory to a luster cream shampoo. And now, once again, here is our Miss Brooks. As soon as Mr. Conklin discovered that Uncle Corky wasn't on his last legs, he gathered up his Christmas packages, his daughter Harriet and Walter Denton, and left in a cloud of frustration. Herb to Williger left, too, after I had promised him an immediate reply by the end of the year. After Mrs. Davis had gone to bed, I started for my room. I didn't know you were still up. How about stepping out for a stroll, Brooks? There's a full moon. Why, Errol, what have you been spiking your pablum with? Frankly, Uncle Corky, I'm afraid you're a few minutes too old for me. Too old? Why, don't you know that the longer a man lives, the more he knows about romance? I may be eighty-seven, but I really got the know-how. You may have the know-how, but believe me, you'll still find it tough to get the who-with. And by Pamela Sothe, your beauty hope and luster cream shampoo for soft, glamorous, caress-able hair. Our Miss Brooks, starring Eve Arden, is produced by Larry Burns, written and directed by Al Lewis with music by Wilbur Hatch. Mr. Conklin is played by Gail Gordon. Others in tonight's cast are Jerry Hausner and Peter Leeds. Here's a money-saving offer, men. A giant tube and a large tube of Pamela brushless shaving cream for 49 cents. Yes, a 70-cent value for only 49 cents. This offer is made solely to prove you too can get smoother, more comfortable shaves the Pamela brushless way. Just follow directions on the tube and treat your face to wonderful shaves. Yes, for extra shaving comfort, at extra low cost, a brushless bargain. At drug and toilet goods counters, get both giant and large-sized Pamela brushless, a 70-cent value for only 49 cents. For mystery liberally sprinkled with laps, listen to Mr. and Mrs. North Tuesday evening over most of these same stations. And be with us again next week at this same time for another comedy episode of Our Miss Brooks, Bob LeMond speaking for CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.