 From Hollywood, the Hollywood Radio Theater of Maggie Phillips. Ladies and gentlemen, this is Ken Carpenter. Have you ever noticed one of those demure young ladies in the lending library of a small town and wondered if anything exciting had ever happened in her life or ever would? Well, in tonight's play, Miss Maggie Phillips has her entire life changed just by entering a contest. And as a star of this gay romance, we're privileged to present one of the finest actresses anywhere, Miss Dorothy McGuire. And now, Miss Dorothy McGuire, starring in Kathleen Heights' delightful romance, The Fall of Maggie Phillips. The Fall of Maggie Phillips began in the spring, but it's doubtful that anyone in Fremontville noticed its beginning. The talk in the small northern California town centered on the melding snows on the mountains, the apricot and almond groves in full bloom in the valley, the great profusion of violets on the lawns, and the greater confusion of walnut tassels on the sidewalks. For thirty-five spring, Maggie Phillips felt content to watch the snows melt on the mountains, the groves burst into blossom, the violets, the walnut tassels. But this year, well, as Maggie put it, there's got to be more. Did you say something, dear? I said, there's got to be more. Oh, I don't see a single book on the shelves I want to read. And, dear, you've mumbled something to the window several times now. Something wrong? Clara, you were thirty-five once, weren't you? Uh, yes, Maggie. I was thirty-five just... Well, don't be silly, of course I was. Well, that's all in the world that's wrong with me. I'm thirty-five, I'm single, and it's spring. Yes? Well, Donut, I come alive in spring, too. Oh! Margaret Elizabeth! Oh, Clara, I'm sorry, I lost my head. Well, fortunately, I'm an old friend. It wouldn't do for you to say that to most people in town. Oh, you haven't confided this inner turmoil to anyone else, have you? No, no one knows my shame but you. Then you're in good hands, my dear. You know, I really think your little shop here is the real culprit. Cecil and I were talking just the other evenings. We're not a bit sure that running a lending library is the right thing for you at all. I'd always hope for more myself. Well, thankfully, as head of the public library, Cecil felt for some time that you shouldn't read all the modern trash that's published. And I don't doubt at all that your inner turmoil is largely the result of your reading. Well, I have to be able to brief my customers. Oh, which reminds me, the book you ordered came in this morning. Oh, good, good! I was afraid I'd have to go home empty-handed. You did remember to put plain covers on them, didn't you, dear? Mm-hmm. And sometime when you and Cecil are discussing book lists, ask him what he thinks of Mickey's blame. Bainbridge smiled vaguely in reply and left Maggie to mumble at the window for a lending library. Just what she mumbled this time is not a matter of record, but it must have had some substance to it because only minutes later, Maggie bolded her little shop and took her inner turmoil to Netherton's drugstore. Hi. Black coffee, Johnny. Hey, that's bad, huh? Mm, it'll do until something worse comes along. I know what's the matter with you. Watch your language, young man. No, no, I really do. I've been noticing the last few weeks. What's the matter with you is it's Thursday. Thursday? Oh, it can't be. Not again. You see? Lately you get a Thursday look, and I know why. It's old Bainbridge. Cecil Bainbridge is not old. He's my age. Oh, brother, I walked right into that one, didn't I? Sorry, Maggie. So am I, Johnny. But I am right about the Thursday look. I think you're getting tired of having dinner with old... with Cecil every single Thursday night. Well, I don't know why. We've only been doing it for 10 years now. You see? I knew it. Oh, it isn't Thursday or Cecil. It's my fault, whatever it is. I haven't gone up fishing for a while. Maybe that's it. Wanna bet? No. Mind if I look at your magazines? Help yourself. This is what I need, Johnny. Two glorious weeks in Europe. Romantic France. Historic Italy. And the old world charm of the Low Countries. Sure. How much? Well, I can afford it. It's free. Well, you're kidding. Well, practically free. Oh, a contest. I insist on bulwark oil in my car because, in 25 words or less, nothing to it. Well, praise your things when that happens. Why don't you enter? Because I don't insist on bulwark oil. And besides, I couldn't win. Well, go on. You've got nothing to lose but your chains. You're a great comfort to me, Johnny. I'll take that magazine. Cicero was his usual self at dinner that evening. They went to the Fremont Hotel dining room as usual, sat at their usual table, and held their usual conversation during their usual meal. I don't believe the halibut's as salty tonight as it was last Thursday. Or was it the Thursday before? No, it was as salty. I don't remember. Don't you know we called Ruby over and told her and she took it back and then finally they brought us the ham and raisin sauce instead? It was a week ago Thursday. I think you're right. Well, anyway, I don't believe it's as salty tonight. I see the palm trees are here. Can you see the Maggie? That's her hat just behind the potted palm. See, sir, why should I use bulwark oil? I beg your pardon, Maggie? Well, what would be a good reason for me to insist on bulwark oil? I mean, if I were to say I insisted on it in 25 words or less. Well, I don't know. Must you insist? Maggie Girl, I don't know what you're talking about. Oh, well, it's just a contest. If I say that I insist on bulwark oil in the right 25 words or less, I might win a trip to Europe. Aunt Clara said you seem disturbed today, but I got the impression that it was over something more important than a contest. I'm not disturbed over the contest. I just think it'd be fun. Do you know anything about bulwark oil? Yes, it's a motor oil. First raid, as nearly as I know, comes in different weights, you know. By George, that reminds me, I must have my oil changed. I could do with some new spark plugs, too, I guess. And while we're at it, I might as well get the old battery charged. Come back, Cecil. Oh, oh, oh, about the oil, set me off. Well, I'll tell you what I do, Maggie Girl, as long as you're going into this thing, the whole way, as it were, I'd go to someone who knows about it. Well, that's what I've been trying to do in my own naïve fashion. You don't know about oil, do you, Cecil? Well, George, I don't. Tell you who does, though, hella Hawkins. Grubby, sort, but running those trucks the way he does, you know. Probably knows all about there is to know about oil. Hella Hawkins? Mm-hmm. What sort of him? Well, I really don't know him, but that's a very good idea. I'll stop and see him tomorrow morning. He's, uh, well, not our sort, you know. Don't know much about him, hasn't been here too long, but I guess it'd be perfectly proper for you to ask him a few technical questions. Well, of course it would be perfectly proper. Oh, no, it isn't that I don't trust you, Maggie Girl. I just mean, uh, well, hell is a rough sort. While you, I'd get the information from him as quickly and quietly as possible and beyond my way. Hmm, I wonder... Cecil, you're working yourself up into a state. I don't know. Might be the manly thing for me to take care of this entire transaction. Oh, you. I wouldn't want to put you through that ordeal for anything in the world. Now, you just eat your halibut and forget about the whole ugly episode. Hmm. I don't believe it's as solid as it was last Thursday. And the balance of their Thursday evening together was... well, as usual. The new film at the state theater after dinner, and then Cecil drove Maggie to the old White House her parents had left her. And as was especially usual, he gave her a cheeky hurried peck and hummed all the way down the walk to his car. As he got into the car, Maggie Phillips was surprised to hear her own voice saying, There's got to be more. Mr. Hawkins, do you have to just lie there on that roller? Rather tall, aren't you? What about? Could you could tell me something about bulwark oil? It's a good oil. Is that all? What else do you want? Well, things like what makes it a good oil and why I should use it and... You got a car? Yes. Use it. It's a good oil. I'm not saying this very well, I'm afraid. Um, look. The bulwark oil company is running this contest and I thought I'd enter it and... Did you ever figure your chances on a deal like this? Oh, no, but that's not very important. I don't really expect to win. I just thought it might be fun. Fun, huh? Well, I... I thought it might be. Well, I don't know. Yeah, let me see the magazine. For years, weeks in Europe, all expenses paid for two... For two? Well, that's funny. I've never heard of that before. It isn't, huh? Well, it says right here on the page. I see it does. Well, let's see. Here's the deal on bulwark oil. It's a good oil, has endurance, stands up well. I've used it in the trucks for a long time. The pistons don't stick. No? It doesn't plug the rings. It doesn't clog. Got pretty high detergency. Never have any trouble with corrosion or rust. A lot of heat resistance. Good. There. Any more questions? Well, just one. What does it all mean? It's a good oil. Oh. Oh. Very much, Mr. Hawkins. Certainly been very kind. I guess you'd better get back to work now. Anything else you ought to know? Yes. When I rolled back under the truck, I noticed you've got good legs. It was a good oil. We will continue with act two of the Hollywood Radio Theater. Make a friend and you make an ally. There's a thought for you to keep in mind as many another American has. Sam Higginbottom knew the value of that thought. Hearing of a missionary's work in India, Higginbottom decided he wanted to do something to help the poverty-stricken uneducated natives, too. His idea was to stay there a few months, then return to America to finish his theological studies. But after a year in India, he decided to stay on indefinitely to help the people till their soil and improve their crops. For five years, Higginbottom and his wife, with their limited experience in farming and agriculture, worked hard to modernize the farming equipment and methods in India. Then Sam returned to America to study scientific farming. He interested many people in his Indian project, and by the time he received his Bachelor of Science in Agriculture, he'd raised $30,000 donated by fellow Americans in every walk of life to continue his work in India. When he returned there, Brahmins, princes, the untouchables all shared equally in Higginbottom's knowledge. In 1928, his Princeton classmates paid his fare back to the states to present him with a Doctor of Philanthropy degree. And in 1940, he was named Doctor of Human Letters. Among Sam Higginbottom's keepsakes is a letter written by a personal friend in India. Your work is more than simple help. It is good nation-building. The letter was signed Mahatma Gandhi. How well Sam Higginbottom had proved that by helping others, you help your country. Now act two of the fall of Maggie Phillips starring Dorothy McGuire as Maggie. The little town of Premontville continued to concern itself with the spring unaware that forces were slowly being set in motion that would ultimately bring about the fall of Maggie Phillips. Only the most astute observer would have noticed the faint flush on Maggie's cheeks, the glimmer of a new light in her eye. Even Maggie herself was not wholly aware of it as she busied herself those next two days. I insist on bulwark oil in my car because it has good legs. Oh, darn it. Now, just get a grip on yourself, girl. I insist on bulwark oil in my car because my resistance is low. Oh, nuts. Because the man I ask stands up well. Oh, goodness. Oh, good heavens, no. So self. Oh, Clara, I'm so sorry I didn't see you. Well, I hope not. I sincerely hope not. My goodness. Are you all right? Well, I believe I am. I might ask the same question of you, my dear. Oh, I'm fine. I'm just disgusted with myself, that's all. Did you finish this Filane book? Yes. Oh, my. My, they were entertaining. Such lively episodes. I really do enjoy... never mind changing the subject on me. Maggie, I want to talk to you. Now, Clara, I'm just fine. I just watered up a piece of paper and threw it. But why? Why? Now, that's the important thing. Now, this. When I was in here a few days ago, you were talking to yourself, saying, well, I might add some rather startling things. Now, today, throwing this at paper. I don't want to pry, but you may as well know I'm concerned about you, Maggie. Right, Clara, there's no need to be. This girl is concerned too. Perhaps it isn't my place to tell you, but I know my nephew very well. He's as nervous as a cat these days. Well, I'm sorry. I wouldn't want to worry Cecil for anything. Or you, certainly not intentionally. Maggie, you didn't mention anything to Cecil about your, uh, uh, well, you know, my wife. You know your, uh, well, your inner turmoil. Oh, good heavens, no, no. If Cecil's worried, it's probably because someone has a book that's overdue at the library. Well, I'm sure I don't see the humor in the situation, Maggie. If you don't want my counsel, my help and your problems, I certainly won't burden you with my opinion. But it does seem to me that you're giving way. Throwing things and all that. Now, Clara, dear Clara, it's this simple. It sounds sort of silly, but I'm trying to write a contest entry that will win me a trip to Europe. I insist on bulwark oil in my car because... Oh, yes! I've seen that in the magazines. That's what's got you in such a state? Mm-hmm. So there's really nothing to be concerned about? Well, I'm glad it's nothing serious. Does Cecil know about the contest? Well, I told him at dinner the other night. Well, then that's probably what's got him so nervous. I'll bet anything he's trying to think of something clever for you to say. Oh, and here I was worried about you. Well, now you know. Oh, my. Hi there. Oh, well, for having sakes. It's Mr. Hawkins. Well, I must be going, Maggie. You want to look after your customers. Oh, stick around, lady. I'm no customer. No, no, of course not. He's Mr. Hawkins. Oh. This is Miss Bainbridge. Hello, Miss Bainbridge. Mm, young man. Hawkins, uh, Hawkins, uh. Don't believe I know any Hawkins here in Fremontville? Well, I don't believe there are any except me, and I'm new in town. I've only lived here eight years. Oh. I didn't think there were any Hawkins among the old families of town. Uh, can I do anything for you, Mr. Hawkins? Oh, I-I don't know. I-I figured maybe I got a little flip with you the other day, and I thought maybe I ought to apologize. Whoa. Oh. Oh, no. My goodness. I-I can't imagine what made you think that, Mr. Hawkins. I, um, Clara, I asked Mr. Hawkins about bulwark oil. He uses it in his trucks. I thought maybe he could help me. And could he? Oh, my, yes. He was a big help. Well, then there's certainly no need to apologize for helping someone. Well, that's what I say. Certainly no need at all. Well, I'm glad to hear that. You've got more spirit than I thought. Uh, you see, Miss Bainbridge, in addition to telling her about oil, I also told her she has good legs. Oh. Oh, Matt. Oh, Matt! Well, you never know. Some dames go for this type comment, and some don't. Good afternoon, Mr. Hawkins. Yeah, I think it's a fine afternoon. Honestly, Miss Bainbridge, wouldn't it have been worse if I'd said she had bad legs? Oh! Well, I never, I, I, I never in my whole life. Goodbye, girls. Oh, Clara, I don't know what to say. Well, you, you don't have to say anything, my dear. Just on bulwark oil in my car. Because I... There was quite a pile of wadded up paper in one corner of her lending library. But long toward evening, Maggie settled on a likely set of 25 words or less, and marched them straight to the Fremontville Post Office in time for the evening train. Well, not quite straight to the Post Office. It was a matter of complete coincidence that Heller Hawkins' trucking establishment was on the way. If you can rot yourself out early enough. I'd just like to say I think your conduct was entirely unnecessary. Uh, hold it a minute, Jim, will you? Lady, please, I'm on the phone. Oh, I beg your pardon. Oh, but I'd, I'd simply, I'd simply think your conduct was quite out of line. Good boy. Well, set the time, will you? There's a small pick up here with a bad gasket. I'm not going ahead. Keep humiliating me. You're just unspeakable. All right. Five it is. I'll pick you up. You bet, boy. Goodbye. Okay. I'm unspeakable. Clara Bainbridge is a respectable maiden lady. She isn't used to talk like that. You want to know something? There'd be a lot less respectable maiden ladies and old families if they heard more talk like that. That's not my point. Now, just hold up a minute, will you? Let's review the bidding. I'm working under one of my trucks, remember? Yes. You sweep in here with a few dumb questions and I answer them in the bargain. I tell you, you've got good legs. Will you stop saying that? And for some reason, this makes you nervous. I think I know the reason, but we won't go into that. I take it over and I decide to apologize. So the old doll looks down her maiden nose at me and gives me the old family routine. She makes me squirrelled, I make her squirm. We're all ebbs. Now you barge in here and lost up a friendly phone contest. I did not barge in here. I happen to be on my way to the post office and I just... Oh, you're mailing in your contest entry? Well, perhaps I am. Yeah, well, let me see it. No, I... Well, no. Okay. Only you don't know anything about oil and I do. Never mind. I just came by to tell you that... That I'm unspeakable. Yes. You know, you act just like the Bainbridge doll if you're not careful, you... Hey, there's an idea for you. I don't want to hear any more of your ideas. Put in your entry that you want an oil you can depend on because you're an old maid. Oh! Well, because you're a single... You are absolutely impeccable! This time Maggie marched straight to the post office. She walked directly to a table where she tore up her contest entry. From her purse she produced a fresh sheet of paper on which she began to write in a fine, firm hand. I insist on bulwark oil in my car because I know I can depend on it. I'm a single woman. I have to be sure. She was just coming down the steps of the public library as Maggie drove past on her way home from the post office. She stopped because for the first time in a long time it seemed rather nice to see him. Oh, Maggie girl! My gorgeous, good to see you. Oh, it's nice to see you, Cecil. Can I give you a lift? Oh, thanks, no. Have my car. Oh, Cecil, it's a beautiful night. Let's do something crazy, like drive to Red Bluff or Soda. Restless, aren't you, Maggie girl? Well, I haven't put a name on it, but come on, let's do something wild and free. I just mailed my contest entry in and I think we ought to celebrate. Well, I... Oh, no. It's my cribbage night with Aunt Clara. Oh, but couldn't you? Oh, you couldn't, could you? No, I couldn't. Sorry, Maggie girl. Now, this contest business, you're not going to count too heavily on it, are you? No, Cecil boy, I'm not. Because it would be fun and exciting and totally unexpected. And that sort of thing just doesn't happen to me. That pretty much was the spring of Maggie Phillips. As the days grew longer and hotter in Fremontville and the towns interest moved on to house coolers and summer things, Maggie forgot about the contest. In the pattern of Thursday night dinners with Cecil, black coffee at Netherton's drug store and smuggling Mickey's Palaine books in plain covers to Clara, Maggie forgot about Heller Hawkins, too. But sometimes, when she was alone, she'd hear herself saying, There's got to be more. Then Maggie hung a sign on the door of her lending library one morning in early July. She left the key and instructions with Johnny at the drug store. Something over an hour later, she was standing knee-deep in the middle of a swift mountain creek. Maggie carefully cast upstream closer to Silver Doctor's housefly landed near a likely-looking ripple. And then as the fly drifted downstream toward her. Now, you slippery little beauties. I know you're there. Then suddenly there was a flash as a beautiful rainbow saw his lunch floating gently past and he went for it hook, line, and sinker. That's the way. Slowly, carefully, she took in her line, bringing the trout closer and closer until she was able to net him. And as she removed the hook. Hey, you're cute. Are there any more at home like you? Maggie looked at him. He was a beautiful catch, brilliant in the morning sun. But her smile faded as she dropped him into her creole. Don't look at me like that, honestly. This hurts me more than it does you. It was a matter of minutes later and several more expert casts upstream when Maggie dropped her second multicolored trout into the creole. Now, we're beginning to understand each other. It was going to make the fish story later. But the morning continued to go that way. Cast, wait, strike. Cast, wait, strike. And the quiet pools on rocky ledges wherever the speckled rainbow beauties were, Maggie found them with phenomenal regularity. She was one trout under the limit by the time the sun was high and wonderfully relaxed and at peace when she cast off a high bank to a half-sheltered pool below. We're on something. Come on. Come on. Things are going so well. Don't let it be him. I want to see the guy who thinks blind casting is... Oh, is it figured? I was going for the limit. And this is it. Yeah. Well, I told the boys I wanted to go trout fishing the worst way. Oh, but how could I? I put you into the scene. Because I had just attained the most remarkable balance of my entire fishing career until you got your hook into me. And that chipped it. Well, I... Sorry. It was a stupid thing for me to do. Well, you know that much anyway. Oh. Yeah. Here's your hook. I don't think the fly is damaged. Thanks. Dry fly, huh? You can catch trout with that if you know how. Um, how many trout have you caught this morning? Well, not enough to be giving lectures on it. But they're not striking very well. No. I usually catch my limit before now, but... Oh. Oh, you're going to hate yourself for that. Do you want a captain? Or shall I? What's that? Beginner's luck? Beginner? It just happens I'm a darn good fisherman. Why, I've been fishing for... Look out, you'll date yourself. For longer than I care to remember. Well, we're back to normal anyway. You're acting like a nervous... No, don't say it. I'm sorry. I don't really mean that. I guess I'm just mad because you can fish. Oh, now, don't start smiling and acting nice. I don't think I could stand that. Oh, don't worry. I'm never nice for very long at a time. Oh. How wonderful to get off by yourself this way, isn't it? Or is that Johnny Netherton? I think so. Maggie. Maggie, this wire came. I think it's important. Thank you, Johnny. Hi, Heller. Hi, boy. Oh, my golly. Mr. Hawkins. Hey, that's wonderful. That's just great. Yes! Everybody in town's really excited, Maggie. When the wire came in and Liv couldn't get you on the phone, she just called everywhere trying to find you. Finally got to me. Oh, I just can't believe this. Oh, let me read it again. We'll read it out loud. Oh, congratulations, Miss Billet. Your entry has won first prize in the Bulwark Oil Company contest. A representative of that company will call on you in person within the next week. You and your companion should be ready to fly to Europe in 30 days. Congratulations again. Signed the Bulwark Oil Company. Hey, that calls for a celebration. Let's go back to town and I'll take you both to dinner. Oh, wonderful. I'd love it. Yeah, but you can't. Why not? It's Thursday. Thursday. Oh, that's right. I have a standing dinner date on Thursdays. Oh, well, that's too bad. Yes, it is. I'd really like to. Only, Cecil's an old friend. Yeah, an old friend. Okay, okay. Well, I still got some trot to catch. Maybe I'll see you later. Oh, wait a minute. I got a ride back in the car. I'll stay with you. Okay, Johnny. No, only first, Maggie. Everyone's busting to know who you're going to take with you. Oh, well, that's funny. I really don't know. Well, I hadn't expected to win, so I hadn't thought. But surely I'll find someone. Well, I mean, well, won't I? The Hollywood Radio Theatre will continue in just a few moments. Make a friend and you make an ally. There's a thought for you to keep in mind as many another American has. That's a thought which the 4-H clubs of America had in mind when they began sponsoring the International Farm Youth Exchange. The main purpose of the I-F-Y-E is to select young farmers, or those who've majored in university agricultural courses, who may send abroad for short periods to work with the people and promote understanding and friendship. Last summer, for example, three young California farmers were chosen to spend four to five months in Ecuador. While there, they visited farms, discussed agriculture with the people, and lent what assistance they could. The work of these grassroots ambassadors, as they are called, is voluntary for although their trips are sponsored by the 4-H clubs in their neighborhood, the major portion of their expenses is paid by the young farmers themselves. Their work can in no way be considered charity because they learn as much from people in other countries as those people learn from them. Yes, members of the International Farm Youth Exchange have learned the secret of international understanding that by helping others, you help your country. Maggie Phillips, starring Dorothy McGuire as Maggie. Maggie's returned to Premontville from the mountains that afternoon was a roundly triumphant. Her drive up Main Street on her way home was a series of waves and horn honks and friends and neighbors pressing close to shake her hand at stop lights. She tried to rest between phone calls once she got home, but it was no use. And the question persisted through every call and caller. And Maggie's reply persisted... Why, I don't know yet. And that evening at dinner with Cecil in the Premont Hotel dining room as usual, where they sat at their usual table and ordered their usual dinner, Cecil said a rather unusual thing. Congratulations, Maggie girl. Thank you, Cecil. Don't leave the halibut as solid as it was last Thursday. Oh, please, Cecil. Not tonight. Oh, no, no, of course not. Tonight's your night, Maggie girl. Yes, sir, your night by joy. Oh, I still can't believe it. Two whole weeks in Europe, in France mostly, I think, and flying both ways over the ocean. Oh, well, it's just too much to assimilate all at once. Say, just a curse to me. Who are you going to take with you? I don't know. I haven't had time to think. Really ought to give that some thought. Who to take? I know. Everyone keeps asking me. I don't know. That's a natural enough question, Maggie girl. Shouldn't make you edgy. No, of course it shouldn't. Some reason it does. Good heavens. It shouldn't be any trouble to find somebody. I'd think anyone would welcome a free trip to Europe. Yes, I'd think so, too. Don't think you should plan on Aunt Clara, though. Hmm? Or not that she wouldn't love it and be the lively sort of companion, but she's getting on, you know. I don't think she's up to it myself. Oh, I think you're right, Cecil. Absolutely right. Excuse me, folks. But the gentleman over there sent this wine, do you, Maggie? Oh, how nice, Ruby. Oh, what gentleman? Well, see? Just beyond the potted palm. If you can see over, Mrs. Parmalise has. No, I... I don't... I can't make him out myself. Oh, well, no matter. He's coming this way. I'll just leave the wine here and fest some glasses. I'm not sure about this, Maggie. Oh, I'm sure it's all right, Cecil. Why? Oh, it's Mr. Hawkins. Hi. I just thought I'd crash your little celebration if nobody objected. Oh, certainly not. And what a wonderful idea to send the wine. Oh, please, sit down. Well, thank you. Okay, with you, Babridge? Hmm? Oh, well, yes, I guess so. Here are the glasses, folks. It's all just real festive, isn't it? It certainly is, Ruby. Thank you. Guess you'll want a pour, won't you, heller? Uh, yeah, Ruby. I guess I will. Thanks. Don't mention it. I'm kind of excited myself. Oh. None for me. Thanks, Hawkins. Cecil. Oh, what's the matter with you? Well, nothing. I don't think I should have headed the library and all. I'm not in public. Oh, Cecil, a little while. I'd like to, but there's my position to maintain. Maintain it one way or the other, will you? Oh, well. Why not? It is in the nature of a celebration. Oh, sure. What the heck? Here's to you. Thank you. Or, as the French put it, Maggie Girl, a vautre santé. Thank you, Cecil. Now, it's my turn. As the French put it, Avez-vous ma plume? I guess I'll have to dig out my high school French book and brush up. I can't go around France asking everyone if they have my pen. Well, you're cut with that accent. They'll never know what you're asking for. I believe we have some first-rate French books in the library, Maggie Girl. Or to do that, too. Who was it said? I'd never go to France unless you know the lingo. Thomas Hood. Hmm? No, I don't believe it was Hood at all. It was Thomas Hood in his poem French and English. Never go to France unless you know the lingo. If you do, like me, you'll repent by jingle. Well, I'll have to look that up in the morning. Well, it doesn't matter who said it. He's right, and I'll repent by jingle because French and I were never made for each other. Well, I can help you with it if you're interested. I was over there for a little while. Got to know the language well enough to get around. You've been to France? Oh, how wonderful. No, a lot of people get there done a lot these days. Well, I had an all-expense-paid trip in 1944 by the way of Normandy. Oh. Well, if you don't mind helping me with France, I'd really appreciate it. Well, sure, sure, any time. You just let me know. Oh, that's wonderful. Cecil, isn't that wonderful? Well, I don't know. I just wonder if it is. Cecil was to wonder about that a great deal in the next few days. The representative from the Bulwark Oil Company called on Maggie, presented her with full instructions, including her itinerary and her airline tickets for two. Maggie still didn't know who she'd take with her. She kept telling herself she'd find someone in time. Meanwhile, her front porch became an evening seminar in conversational France. All right, come on. I'll try it again. French phones are tricky enough that you better know how to place a call. Okay, I think I've got it now. Pick up the phone and say... No, no, no. It's the idiom, remember? You don't say, give me anything. It's, um... Voulez-vous me demander ce numéro? And then you fill in the number you want. Oh, that's right. Voulez-vous me demander ce numéro? Yeah, yeah. But work on the accent. Well, you keep saying that. I can't have a French accent. I'm not French. Besides, I'm only going to be there for two glorious weeks. Yeah, but you'll hate yourself if you don't give it a good try. That's a beautiful language. Really beautiful. The man was right when he said, When ere I hear French spoken as I approve, I feel myself quietly falling in love. What man? Edward Robert Bobo-Litton, the olive-Litton. He wrote under the name of Owen Meredith. You know, you amazed me a little. Oh? You've done a lot of reading, haven't you? Quite a bit, I guess. What's wrong with that? Nothing. Only it doesn't seem to sit with running a truck line somehow. You want to know something? There's a big, wide world outside full of people who've read books and dig ditches or drive trucks that sit on flag poles. You never heard of Fremontville and its cozy conformity. I sounded snobby. I didn't mean to. It's just that I'm used to people who, well, fit the pattern a little more than you do, I guess. Nothing says you've got to get used to me. I'm sorry, heller. So's your French. Now, forget about placing a phone call for a while. Here's a phrase you'll use a lot often. Just sweep their dues. Who should prove American Express? And what does that mean? I am lost. Where's the American Express? Very funny. In fact, Trey, comic. The book has everything in it you ought to know, Maggie Girl. It tells about customs. Oh, they got some great customs there. About getting through customs. All about the money exchange and a complete list of idioms. Well, it was sweet of you to order it for me, Cecil. Oh, well, I dare say without my connections at the library, we couldn't have gotten it here on time. How about giving us a few quick idioms, Bainbridge? Oh, well, let's see here. Oh, uh, yes. There's, uh, ouvre la porte. That opens the door, of course. She can open her own doors. Fair may lay for netres. And close her own windows. Tell her he's so trying to be helpful. I certainly am. Sure, I know that, but you can't get around France telling people to open doors and close windows. Look, here's the kind of thing you need to know. You go to your hotel and they show you to your room. Now, if you like it, you say, ça va, or, uh, c'est ça. This means it's okay with you. I'd watch where I said that, Maggie Girl. Yeah. Now, there's another expression that you ought to know. You won't find it in Buster's book there. It's ta gueule. And it means such a big fat mouth. Rough expression? Well, it can get rough sometimes. Ça va, c'est ça, ça gueule. Hmm. Oh, oh, oh, here's a good one, Maggie Girl. Ah, yes, we perdue. Who should prove American Express? Which means I am lost. Where's the American Express? Oh, you knew that one, huh? The nightly seminars continued on Maggie Phillips' front porch. It was a regular two-some, except on Thursdays when it swelled to a three-some. And while they talked French, the rest of Fremontville just talked. Speculated and talked some more. Maggie's big trip was just a week away. And when the town could stand the suspense no longer, a spokesman called at the Lending Library. As you know, Maggie, I'm not one of them. Who are you taking with you on this trip? Honestly, Clara, I don't know. Are you sure you don't know? I'm very sure. I thought of Taff and Gilmore and Ada and Madora. But none of them could leave their families with children out of school and all. Oh, I guess it's so late and all. I'll just have to go alone. Oh, well, I must say I'm relieved. I, well, well, I didn't really believe the talk. But things did point in that direction. What direction? What talk? Oh, my dear, you must know. I don't know anything. You're sweet as you. Uh, yes. Well, everyone in town's been scared to death at you and that Hawkins person, where you might lose all sense of propriety and, well, just you thought they foolish. There. Take, I've said all along, there's simply an outrageous presumption on everyone's heart that you wouldn't, that you wouldn't take Heller with me. Maggie's affirmative answer had a hollow ring to it, even to her. For some reason, she didn't quite understand it wasn't as preposterous as it should be. And Maggie was strangely silent that evening as Heller talked about her itinerary. Grinnell, you'll be there a day and a night. That's long enough, really. And you'll want to take the telephoric up to the Bastille, I guess. Everybody does. Hey, uh, how about Dijon? Does it say you'll go to Dijon? Hmm? Oh, uh, I don't remember. Oh, I used to have some times in Dijon. All right. And Chablis. Oh, there's a darling Chablis. Oh, brother. Why didn't you ever ask me who I was taking with me? Oh, I, I don't know. I figured when the time came that you'd tell me. You'd tell me? Everyone else in town has asked me, but you. Oh. You know, I never would have won that contest if you hadn't helped me. Oh, that's crazy. No, I mean it. I don't know why I tell you this, but I took your suggestion about telling them I was an old, uh, a single woman. No kidding. Well, that was a pretty smart move, I guess. I guess so. You know something, crazy? Yeah, but what do you mean? And half a freeman's deal. But I was going to ask you to go with me. Well, isn't that silly? No, I don't think so. You don't? Well, I do. I think it's about, no, I don't. I don't think it's silly at all. I could get away. And the awful part of it is, I'd love it if you could go with me. It'd be fun and interesting and exciting and... Oh, I am shameless. No, no, no, you're not. And it would be fun and interesting and exciting. And Fremont Villa blow right off the mat. I think you are the most, the most shocking, insensitive... No, you don't. No, you don't. You'd like to, but you don't think anything of the kind. You know something? No. What? A guy can do all right for himself in the trucking business. He can make a nice little pilot dough. Well, good for him. He can even pay his way to Europe and back and take somebody along, like... I'll say... Well, let's make Fremont Villa happy, huh? Suppose he... takes his bride along with him. Oh. Suppose he does. Grenoble, Dijon, Paris, Shubley. Oh, Maggie, that'll make a lot of honeymoon. For two glorious weeks. And after that... Oh, there's got to be more. We've talked about a couple of tourists who are going through an art gallery in Italy. One man, obviously tired of sightseeing, announced to everyone within hearing, ah, you call this art? Nothing but faded paint and cracked canvas. We got better stuff on our calendars at home. An American service man overheard this and saw how it offended the Italians. He turned to the man and said, sir, the paintings here are not on trial. The people who come to see them are. Well, the frowns of disapproval on the faces of the Italians were erased by smiles of understanding and the incident was widely repeated. It was a small thing, but even small things can have tremendous results. Such acts by you and your friends today are shaping our world of tomorrow. Here's Dorothy McGuire. It's a very destined entertainment. We think so because next week we will present another charming romance, one more spring, and as our star, Jean Crane. I hope I'll be able to hear it. Good night. Good night.