 From time to time, during the years our Miss Brooks has been teaching at Madison High, her relations with her principal have been rather strained. But so far this semester, she and Mr. Conklin have apparently buried their differences. Only because we couldn't do the same to each other. But actually, in recent weeks, Mr. Conklin has been rather considerate to me. At least he was until this past Wednesday. On that morning, he reverted to type and ordered me to be at his home an hour before school started. So promptly at 7.30, Harriet Conklin admitted me and said she'd see what her father was doing. At 7.35, she returned covered with lather so I didn't have to ask. Then she excused herself and went into the kitchen to start breakfast. At 7.40, the doorbell rang and since no one was around, I stood there for a moment undecided what to do. But in the Conklin household, no one remains undecided for very long. Miss Brooks, would you please answer the doorbell? Please answer the doorbell, Miss Brooks! Answer the doorbell, Miss Inston! I answered the doorbell. When I opened the door to my surprise, there stood an American Indian in full regalia and right behind him stood his squaw who appeared to have a papoose board on her back. No sooner had I opened the door when the Indian said... How? Very simple. I turned the door knob and it opened. I just told you. Lady, how is greeting? I, Chief Thundercloud, this my squaw. How? I just turned the door. Oh, no. Mr. Conklin live here? Yes, this is his wigworm. A house. Won't you come in? Mr. Conklin, expect me. Me, lecturer at Madison High School today. Chief, he, Mr. Conklin's friend. Oh, really? Well, I'm a teacher at Madison. You're very pretty. Squaw, she, Miss Brooks' friend. Thanks, Mr. Thundercloud. Now, Mr. Conklin ought to be down any minute, so why don't you two have a seat? Chief have seat. Squaw, she, stand. Squaw, she, stand? It is custom of my tribe. When chief sit, squaw, stand. Now you understand? Do I? Squaw, have you got a squawk? That is, I don't entirely agree with that custom, chief. Good morning, Miss Brooks. Well, Chief Thundercloud and Mrs. Thundercloud, good morning. Good morning, Mrs. Conklin. Oh, Mrs. Conklin. Very simple. She just married Mr. Conklin. Is that a new fur coat, your cap? Well, I thank you, Miss Brooks, but I've had it for years. Matter of fact, I'm thinking of selling it. That's why I brought it out so early. Do you know someone in the market? Well, yes. I've been looking for a winter coat myself, and yours is simply beautiful, but you'd probably want a good deal more than I could afford. Oh, I don't know. I'll tell you what, Miss Brooks. Give me a hundred dollars and you can walk off with the coat. What do you say? If I had five dollars, I might sneak off with a sleeve. I knew I couldn't afford anything as luxurious as that. Oh, I am sorry, Miss Brooks. I wish you could have bought it. But if you hear of anyone else who might be interested, please let me know. Now, I'll be right back with your sack of flour, chief. It's in the kitchen. Very good, and other things. Well, Mr. Conklin is still upstairs with your ham and turkey. And when he's subdued them, I know he'll bring them down. Sack of flour, ham, turkey? If I'm not being too inquisitive, chief, what are they for? Well, pay for lecture at school. I give lecture, and Mr. Conklin give goods. System of barter. Indians use it for hundreds of years. Me and Squaw always use barter. Don't we, Squaw? Miss Brooks, she's very pretty. Chief, your wife might not say much, but what she does say certainly makes sense. Well, I think your system of barter is... I'm sorry to keep you waiting, chief, but as you can see, I brought you your turkey and your ham. Oh, Mr. Conklin, it's very simple. I carried them downstairs in my... Oh, how? Yeah, that's your... Now, I'd better put these things on the table before my arms fall off. I guess that completes everything. The ham, the turkey, and this sack of flour on the couch. I'm getting rid of this old dress the first chance I get. Oh, it's Miss Brooks. Oh, good morning, Miss Brooks. But where is the sack of flour? Oh, your Squaw, bring it from kitchen. My Squaw? Yes, sir. Right now, she's helping your papoos start breakfast. But while we're waiting for your wife, sir, why not tell me why you asked me over here this morning? Oh, oh, yes, of course. Well, after you, yes. Well, it concerns my wife, Miss Brooks. I want you to use your influence to prevent her from buying a pair of enormously expensive lamps, which I can't possibly afford. As you know, she thinks more of your judgment than any woman she knows. She does think that much of my judgment? Yes, the poor benighted soul. We all have our quirks. Well, a number of nights ago at your landlady's house, she fell in love with a pair of hideous-looking table lamps, and since then, she's been combing the town for an identical pair. Yesterday, she found them, and they asked her $200 for the eyesores. $200! Miss Brooks, you've simply got to help me. But, sir, I don't see what I can do. Mrs. Davis discovered them in the attic about a week ago, and she just put them out that night. Say, wait a minute. If Chief Thundercloud can barter, so can I. Really? What tribe are you from, poker hunters? Sir, it really shouldn't be so difficult. Your wife wants Mrs. Davis' old lamps, and I want your wife's old fur coat. Now, all I have to do is persuade Mrs. Davis to trade me those lamps for something else, and then I can... Well, here you are, Chief. Here's your sack of flour. I'll just put it on the table with these other things. Frankly, I don't see how you're going to carry all those things. They're so heavy. Oh, not heavy for me at all. But why not? Because squaw going to carry them. Custom in my tribe. Chief, sit back. Woman work. Your tribe sounds more like Madison High every minute. Oh, I understand. You tie all those things to your squaw's papoose board. If you'd excuse me, sir, I'd like to get back to see Mrs. Davis about that matter before school starts. But what's the hurry, Miss Brooks? Well, sir, I don't mind getting the idea for barter from the Indians, but I'm simply not the papoose board type. Have a good day at school, dear. Good day at school. Mrs. Davis, it's only eight o'clock in the morning. Oh, I'm so glad. I thought I'd misplace ten hours. Why did you come home, dear? Well, because I had something rather important to discuss with you. Oh, it might not seem important to you, but it is to me. Recently, for some reason, this house has begun to depress me. I believe this feeling all started the day you put out those lamps. But, Connie, I just took them down from the attic a week ago. And that very night when Mrs. Conklin was over here, she admired them. Maybe she was thinking how they'd look in her attic. Well, dear, I'm not that fond of them. And if it will make you happy, I'll get rid of them. Oh, I don't want you to give the lamps away, Mrs. Davis, or even sell them cheaply, but I think I know where I can make a deal for them. So why not let me have them? I'll give you something I own in exchange for them. Anything you want. But, dear, you haven't got anything I want. I know what you mean. I haven't got anything I want either. But I tell you what, if you want a trade, there's Mr. Boynton and... Oh, you do better keeping the lamps. Oh, you mean something Mr. Boynton owns. Yes, dear. He has a painting in his apartment that's simply beautiful. And it should really brighten up this living room. It's called Doomsday. That, plus a little black wallpaper and we'll have the craziest living room around. I'll give the whole idea back to the Indians. Realizing that adults sometimes get discouraged more easily than children, I decided to tell my story to Walter Denton when I ran into him on my way to lunch. Walter listened as I told him how much Mrs. Conklin's old fur coat meant to me and the great lengths I was going to to acquire that coat. Well, now, let's see if I've got it straight. You want Mrs. Conklin's fur coat and Mrs. Conklin would be willing to give you that fur coat, but she wants Mrs. Davis' lamps and Mrs. Davis would be willing to give you the lamps, but she wants Mr. Boynton's painting. Now, let's see. What have you got that Mr. Boynton could possibly want? I have to rephrase that question. I've often heard him tell you how much he'd like a ring like that for his mother. Say, maybe I could trade him the ring for his painting at that. Particularly since his mother's birthday is next week. Well, sure you could, Miss Brooks, that when you see him in the cafeteria in a few minutes, something he'll say will remind you of his mother and you can just slide into the subject gracefully. Leave it to me, Walter. If there's anyone who can slide into something gracefully, it's me. And Mr. Conklin has the welts to prove it. Brooks? Oh, that's all right, Mr. Boynton. Sit down. I figured you'd be about ready for dessert and coffee, so I brought you these. Why, Mr. Boynton, how thoughtful. A clean fork and spoon. I would have brought you some rhubarb pie, but it's the only pie they've got left and I know how you dislike it. You always say there are certain things that don't agree with you. Why, Mr. Boynton, that's simply not true. I'm devoted to your mother. I was, and let's not change the subject. I know how you feel about your mother, Mr. Boynton, and I realize how much thought you've given to the important occasion coming up next week. Important occasion? What important occasion? Very catchy. The main Steinsong, isn't it? It's birthday next week. Mr. Boynton, that tune was happy birthday to you. Oh, thanks, Mr. Brooks. My birthday isn't for six months yet. Say, but by an odd coincidence, it is my mother's birthday. Eureka! Well, I know you must be giving a lot of thought to your mother's present. I know, Miss Brooks. Mother knows how little I can afford. She told me specifically that she didn't expect anything this year, so I'm tempted to forget the whole thing. I'm beginning to wish I had, too. But, Mr. Boynton, devoted as you are to your mother, you certainly wouldn't pass up an occasion like a birthday. Well, I certainly wouldn't want to if I could afford to give her something nice. Well, a nice gift isn't necessarily expensive. You've often said your mother would appreciate a cameo ring like the one I have on. Well, I'm proposing a trade, my ring for the painting in your apartment. Miss Brooks, you're not serious, are you? Well, I'd be delighted to make the trade, but... Then just be at my house at eight with the painting and we'll consummate the deal. There are a number of other transactions that will have to be made at the same time. All right. Gosh, I didn't think anyone would ever want my painting Doomsday. It certainly doesn't do much to brighten up a room. Well, don't worry about it. In our living room, Doomsday will look like the Garden of Eden. A minute. Oh, hello, Harriet. Oh, I'm glad I caught you before you went into the lecture, Miss Brooks. I have a message for you from Mrs. Davis. What is it, dear? Well, Mrs. Davis asked me to tell you you'll never have to worry about those lamps you dislike again. Why? What do you mean, Harriet? She said some man came by the house a little before noon and she sold them to him for $25. What? Oh, no, she couldn't have. Who would want the lamps? And where would anyone get the idea to come by today? Oh, Miss Brooks. That's what I'm wondering. How? Oh, hello, T. Hello, Mrs. Sunderclad. Miss Brooks, she very pretty. Miss Brooks, she very dead. Something, Madam, Miss Brooks? Yes, it has to do with some lamps my landlady just sold. Remember, Mr. Conklin and I were discussing them this morning, but it would hardly concern you, Chief. Oh, much concern to me. I bought them. You bought them? Yes. Find out this morning they're very important to you. You want fur coat? Very important to Mrs. Conklin. She want lamps. Very important to Mr. Conklin. He want to keep money. And very important to Chief Sunderclad, because tonight he want to barter us into beggary. You over here this evening, I had no idea Chief Sunderclad would own those lamps. He just outsmarted me, sir. But so could a slightly dopey four-year-old child. Oh, you knew how desperately I needed those lamps. Well, it really wasn't Miss Brooks' fault, sir. But anyway, maybe Chief Sunderclad won't be so difficult to deal with. Boynton, take my word for it. Chief Sunderclad is one of the sharpest traders I've ever met. I have a feeling one of his ancestors was in that Manhattan Island for $24 deal, and he's been laying for us ever since. He brought your painting, and I brought my wife's fur coat for nothing. Well, at least it's worth a try, sir. Oh, here they are now. Chief Sunderclad and Mrs. Sunderclad. Evening, Miss Brooks. Please come in. The others are already here. Oh, well, Chief Sunderclad, what a pleasure to see you so soon again. That was a brilliant lecture you gave today. It was a brilliant... I don't believe you know Mr. Boynton, Chief Sunderclad. Oh, Mr. Boynton. That's the question I've been asking for six years now. How do you do, Chief? And, Mr. Boynton, this is Mrs. Sunderclad. Miss Brooks, she's very pretty. I think they're the only words she knows, but I love every one of them. Well, Chief, Miss Brooks tells me that you now own the lambs, but I assured her we'd have no difficulty coming to some trade that will be beneficial to us all. I think... You did bring the lambs with you. Lambs tied to Papu's board. Papu's board? Where's that? Right on the back of the maupoose. Sunderclad, I mean. I've got the fur coat here, and Mr. Boynton has his painting, so if there's no objection, why don't we start trading? Chief, only trade Indian style. What's that, with Tomahawks? What's Indian style? We all sit around in circles, smoke peace pipe, and then we trade. Squad, hand me peace pipe. Now we all sit, and I give you light. This isn't bad. Not bad at all. Tobacco is a little strong, though. How do I look smoking a peace pipe, Miss Brooks? Oh, fine, Mr. Boynton. The brown of the pipe goes very well with the green of your face. Feeling all right? Well, certainly, Miss Brooks. Only, would you mind sitting still, please? Mr. Boynton, I am sitting still. Then stop being so silly. No tobacco, is that strong? But it does seem to be having quite an effect on him, sir. Now the whole room's going around and around and around. Are you talking, Mr. Boynton? I guess I'd better. I've never seen such a ridiculous display from a few measly puffs of tobacco. Well, here is pipe, Mr. Conklin. You try it, gladly. Say, this isn't bad. Tobacco has a nice taste to it. You don't find it strong, sir? Certainly not, Boynton. And you don't feel any ill effects? Well, of course not. Stop bobbing up and down this instant. She's sitting absolutely still, sir. You keep out of this, Boynton. All four of you. You see four, Mr. Boynton? Oh, boy, let me at that piece five. Are you all right, Mr. Conklin? Sir, are you all right? Mr. Conklin, speak to us. No! I don't feel very well. Neither do I, sir. Well, Chief, ready to trade any time now. Oh, I get it. First he gets us loaded, and then we're pushovers. What is offer, Miss Brooks? Well, I planned on giving Mr. Boynton my cameo ring for his painting. Then I was going to give you his painting for those lamps, and then give the lamps to Mr. Conklin for the fur coat. Afraid you made a mistake? I was afraid you'd be afraid. I will give lamps to Mr. Conklin for fur coat plus $100. $100? Oh, God, I've been ambushed. Our little teacher to stay with the other covered wagons. Then I give fur coat to Miss Brooks for ring plus $50, and then give ring to Mr. Boynton for picture plus $20. I knew I should have attended your lecture today. But this is a hold-up. No, there's no use complaining, sir. The chief has us over a barrel. Well, let's hang on to it. By the time he's through with us, we'll be wearing it. But I don't see any way we can... Oh, good evening, everyone. Please excuse this old house coat, but I was in the kitchen making you some hot chocolate. Oh, house coats very pretty. You mean I'm finally getting competition from a house coat? Oh, house coats very, very pretty. I like. I like very much. You do? Well, how would you like to have that house coat, Mrs. Sundercloud? Oh, I want. I want. Silence, woman. Go and sit down. How do you like that? For 40 years, she's forced to stand up, and finally, when she wants something, she's told to go and sit down. She will not have house coats. But I... I guess. Gee, how could you refuse a simple request from a woman who's been such a good wife to you, a woman who works day and night for you, who stands while you sit, who carries your goods on her back? Where could you find another horse, a squaw like that? Yes, indeed. This is the poor thing deserves that house coat. No other man would dream of working a woman that hard. I'll remember that the next time I'm called into your office. But, Chief, if I were your wife and you refused a simple request like that, why, I'd refuse to work for you. Women in my tribe differed. Squaw never refused to work. She's taking off her papu's board. Goodness! Not in front of all these people. It's just a board on her back. Well, Chief, do we trade? We trade. But first, I smoke peace pipe. Don't bother. When you hear what we're going to get for that house coat, you'll be sick enough without it. Well, the barter system turned out to be quite a headache for the Chief. And now, here's our star, Eve Arden. By the time I was through trading with Chief Thunder Cloud, I had my fur coat, Mr. Conklin had his lamps, Mr. Boynton had his ring, Mrs. Davis her painting, and Mrs. Thunder Cloud had the house coat she wanted so badly. For the house coat, the Chief had to pay Mrs. Davis $29. When the Chief and his squaw had left, I heard some words I had never hoped to hear during my lifetime. Miss Brooks, you were magnificent. Miss Brooks, you handled that trade beautifully. But, Connie, I never expected $29 for that old house coat. Well, actually, Mrs. Davis, only $5 was for the house coat. Well, then what was the other $24 for, Miss Brooks? Well, I figured it was about time they returned that $24 we gave them for Manhattan Island. Honest Brooks, Donnie E. Barton, France Drive, was produced and directed by Larry Burns, written by Arthur Allsberg with the music of Wilbur Hatch. Mr. Conklin was played by Gail Gordon. Others in tonight's cast were Jane Morgan, Dick Crenna, Bob Rockwell, Gloria McMillan, Virginia Gordon, Joel Samuel, and June Foray.