 Remember a Hallmark card when you carry enough to send the very best. The Hallmark greeting cards bring you Deborah Carr in James M. Berry's quality streak on the Hallmark Playhouse. This week Hallmark brings you Hollywood's greatest stars in outstanding stories chosen by one of the world's best known authors. The distinguished novelist, Mr. James Hilton. Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. This is James Hilton. Very glad to be back with you all and to welcome you to our new season of the Hallmark Playhouse. Our fourth year, by the way, which is what I'd call a pretty long run. Tonight, our opening night, we present a radio version of Quality Street by James Berry, one of the great names of the theatre. A play that has delighted millions all over the world since its first performance almost half a century ago. You know, when a play lives as long as this, there must be a reason. And in Quality Street it isn't hard to find, for the play has much of that strange charm that Berry distills into all his work. And incidentally, the play's first performance wasn't in Scotland or even England, but in Toledo, Ohio, where it was produced by the great Charles Proman. To be our star tonight, we have most appropriately chosen one of Hollywood's most enchanting actresses, Deborah Carr. And now here is Frank Goss from the Makers of Hallmark Cards. All of us in the Hallmark family, the Makers of Hallmark Cards, the Vine stores where you purchase Hallmark Cards, and the cast of the Hallmark Playhouse, are happy to be back with you for another season. We hope you'll like these radio adaptations of Fine Stories. Hope they'll bring you and your family good listening in the months ahead. And hope when you want to remember your friends and loved ones, you'll remember Hallmark Cards. Our star tonight, Deborah Carr, will next be seen with Robert Taylor and the cast of Thousands in the forthcoming Metro Golden Mayor Technicolor production, Co Vadis. And now Hallmark Playhouse, presenting James M. Berry's Quality Street, starring Deborah Carr. Very tiny street in a very tiny town. At the moment flakes of snow are falling discreetly. Gentlemen are an event in Quality Street. But see, there goes the recruiting sergeant to remind us that we are in the period of the Napoleonic Wars. This room in this house in Quality Street is done entirely in blue and white. It's the home of Miss Phoebe and Miss Susan Flosso. Phoebe is our heroine. Miss Susan might have been our heroine 10 years ago. But alas, she's already tucked her girlish ringlets inside her cap. She's alone now in the blue and white room, sewing garments for brave soldiers far away fighting the Corsican ogre. Susan! Oh Susan, Phoebe, what's happened? My dear sister, you're positively trembling. Susan, I have just talked to a certain individual. Phoebe? Yes, Valentine Brown. My love. Oh Susan, I passed him on the street and he closed one of his eyes at me, then quickly opened it. How dashing! Then he said, I have something I am wishful to tell you, Miss Phoebe. I shall call and tell you this afternoon. Phoebe! And I think it has all happened in a single year. And he is so amusing for a physician. I am thankful, Susan, that I too have a sense of humour. I am exceedingly funny at times, am I not Susan? All exceedingly? Susan, if I should marry, you must come with us. Oh my dear, I could not leave this room. My lovely blue and white room. It is my husband. Susan, I have something distressing to tell you. You are lying. You know, Mr. Brown advised us how to invest half of our money. Well, I know it gives us eight per cent, so why it should do so, I cannot understand. Susan, all that money is lost. Somebody seems to have absconded. But, Mr. Brown, I have not told him yet, for he will think it was his fault. You see, my dear, we have very little left, so you must live with us. Phoebe, I have a wedding gift for you. Oh, not yet. Been ready for a long time. I began it when you were not ten years old, and I was a young woman. I meant it for myself, Phoebe. I had hope. His name is William. But I must have been too unattractive, my love. Sweetest, dearest Susan. What was it? It was a wedding gown, my dear. Even playing women, Phoebe, we can't help it. When we are young, we have romantic ideas, just as if we were pretty. And so the wedding gown was never used. Here. Here, Phoebe dear. Oh. Oh, how sweet. How beautiful. Oh, but Susan, I could not wear it. I wear it, my love. And the tears it was sown this long ago will all turn into smiles on my Phoebe's wedding day. Oh, Susan, I suddenly remembered something. I think he kissed me once. You think? That evening a week ago, when he was squaring me home from the concert. It was raining, and my face was wet. He said that was why he did it. Oh, Phoebe, before he had offered. I fear it was most unladylike. So dashing, so imperious. Come in. Fine, Mr. Valentine Brown. What a surprise. Miss Susan, how do you do, ma'am? Hey, Miss Phoebe, though we've met today already, I insist on shaking hands with you again. Oh, it's so dashing. And my other friends, I hope I find them in health. The spinet, ma'am, seems quite herself today. I trust the ottoman past a good night. We are all quite well, sir. May I sit on this chair, Miss Phoebe? I know Miss Susan likes me to break her chair. Indeed, sir, I do. The remark was humorous, was it not? Oh, how you see through me, Miss Phoebe. Oh, I have something really dashing to tell you today. Oh, excuse me. You're not going, Miss Susan. Oh, I must. Then I shall tell you alone, Miss Phoebe. But it is you who first put it into my head. Oh, I hope not. Your demure eyes flashed so every time the war was mentioned. Mr. Brown, what is it you have to tell us? I haven't listed. I'll leave tomorrow for my barracks. This must be goodbye, Miss Phoebe. You have done very bravely, Mr. Brown. These are stunning times. Here's but half a man who stays at home. I shall pray for you, Mr. Brown. Thank you. And when I think of home, I shall think of this blue and white room. End of you, Miss Phoebe. For you have been to me like a quiet, old-fashioned garden, full of the flowers that Englishmen love best. The daisy that stands for innocence, and the hyacinth for constancy, and the modest violet and the rose. When I'm far away, ma'am, I shall often think of Miss Phoebe's pretty soul, which is her garden, and shut my eyes and walk in it. I'll call Susan. She'll wish to bid you Godspeed, sir. Susan, dear, Mr. Brown wishes to say goodbye. Goodbye? He's off to the wars. Am I not the ideal recruit, ma'am? A man without a wife, a mother, or a sweetheart? No sweetheart? Who would have me? Well, I must be off. God bless you both. We shall miss you very much, Mr. Brown. Oh, there's one little matter. That investment I advised you to make, I am happy it has turned out so well. But, Susan, accept our grateful thanks. Miss Phoebe, a last look at the garden, and this little blue and white room may it be unchanged when I come back. Goodbye. Put away the wedding gown, Susan. Why didn't you let me tell him about the money? So that he might offer out of pity? How are we to live? I think, Susan, we shall open a little school. You, a school mist. Phoebe of the ringlet, I shall hide the ringlets away in a cap like yours, Susan. And I shall try to look staid, and to grow old quickly. Ten years have passed in Polity Street. The blue and white room is now a school room with blackboards and globes and children. And the lady in the cap is Miss Phoebe. Though perhaps you don't recognize her, for she looks not ten years older, but twenty. When the school day is over, we know that she has the headache. Phoebe, yes, Susan? If a herring and a half costs three heavens, how many for eleven pins? Eleven. William Smith says it is fifteen. And he's such a big boy, do you think I ought to contradict him? May I say there are differences of opinion about it? No one can be sure. He is eleven. I once worked it out with real herring. Oh, Susan, next term we must teach algebra. What is algebra exactly? Is it those three corner things? It is x minus y equals a plus b and things like that. And all the time you're saying they are equal, you feel in your heart, why should they be? Oh, it's the music for tonight's ball. It's not every year that there is a waterloo to celebrate. He'll be at the ball tonight. I think we've not seen him for ten years. Ten years. Now, who can that be? Captain Brown. Oh, dear. I hope I do not intrude, but I wish to report myself home again. Miss Susan, how good to be home. Where is Miss Phoebe? Phoebe of the Ringlets. I do not believe I know this other lady. Welcome home, Captain Brown. Miss Phoebe, is that you? Yes. I have changed, Captain Brown. We are both holders, Miss Phoebe. I have come to invite you to the ball. No, Captain Brown. You see that my dancing days are over. Oh, no. We are proud of you. You have been such a brave soldier. I believe ladies who keep a school are also brave. My respects to you both. I pray I may call for tea soon. Any day, Captain. Forgive my speedy departure, but I must report to my superior officer concerning my arrival home. Dear ladies. Susan, he thought I was old. I'm only 30. Why does 30 seem so much more than 29? And he will go dancing tonight with some little goose of a girl. It is what gentlemen prefer. If there were a sufficient number of these geese to go around, no woman of sense would ever get a husband. I know just how they talk, too. Ah, lark, Captain Brown, you are such a queen. That is not ladylike, Phoebe. I'm tired of being ladylike. Ten years ago I went to bed a young girl and I woke up with this cap on my head. Phoebe, Phoebe. What has become of that young girl? Sometimes I hear her weeping and she cries out to me, oh, where are my pretty curls? Where is my youth? My youth. The clock and the calendar are with all of us, Phoebe dear. No. If I were to dress young again and put the candles back into these eyes that were bright once and coax back my curls hidden under this cap, listen, the music is calling, Susan. I will go to the ball and celebrate Waterloo. But dare you do it? You are a school mistress. I will not go to the ball as that school teacher. I am not myself tonight. I am, let me see, I am my niece. Miss Livy, we shall create a niece for ourselves. Oh, Phoebe, and I shall flirt and pout and tickle like all the other geese. Oh, Captain Brown, the dashing Captain Brown, I should not go down again. Oh, Susan, we shall tear up the calendar and stop the hands of the clock for one beautiful night. At the moment we'll return to the second act of James M. Berry's quality straight starring Deborah Carr. You know, there's a fascinating history surrounding the word hallmark that has its parallel in the public's preference for hallmark cards today. It started about eight centuries ago in the days of King Edward III when the silversmiths of England first grouped together to make articles of silver and gold. The men worked in long buildings called guild halls. In time they developed a close group feeling and proudly put the mark of their hall on each piece they made. The hallmark of a particular group became famous and respected in direct proportion to the skill and artistic abilities of the people who made it. So whenever people want to judge the worth of a silver piece they look on the back for the hallmark. Today there is another form of hallmark that discriminating people look for. It's the hallmark on the back of a greeting card. That's because people have found that this hallmark also has a meaning. It represents the skill of craftsmen who for years have designed greeting cards with but one thought in mind. To give you a card you'll be proud to send and one that will be received with pleasure. Because the message is presented with the good taste you demand of anything that bears your personal signature. That's why the hallmark on the back of a card means you cared enough to send the very best. And now back to James Hilton and the second act of James M. Berry's quality straight starring Deborah Carr. Music of the ball that lured Miss Phoebe, that and a good natured moon. Indeed Miss Susan and Miss Phoebe seem to have rushed forth upon a career of crime. For Miss Phoebe is masquerading as the young coquette Miss Libby and the dashing Captain Valentine Brown whirls her around as the music makes the very air dance. I believe you are the same, Mr. Brown, my dear aunt, speak of. Why not, ma'am? Why, you still dance. Still? Well, as for you, my dear Miss Libby, you could never deny that you are Miss Phoebe's niece. The likeness, even the voice. Ah, sir, everyone says that and indeed it is no compliment. It would have been a compliment once. Oh, Lord Captain Brown, you are the degree. Oh, Captain, I must join my chaperone, dear aunt Susan. What a pity dear aunt Phoebe is home with her dreadful headache. Your servant, Miss Libby, I shall await the next dance. You adorable child. Ah, Captain. Susan, are you happy, my love? Every dance with the dashing Captain Brown. No, Susan, for I hate this horrid forward flirting heartless little toad of the Libby. You still care for him, Phoebe. No, Susan, no. I did love him all those years. But oh, tonight Libby found out in a short hour that he is not noble. Susan, there has been a declaration in his eyes all evening. And when he cries, adorable Miss Libby, mine, I mean to answer with an, ah, how ridiculous you are. You're much too old for me. Libby, how can you be so cruel? Because he has 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 is unworthy of my love. That is why I can be so cruel. Here comes your dashing Captain to claim you for the dance. Ah, and I must be Miss Libby again. Oh, Libby, the heirs of you and the racket of you tire me. I want to be back in quiet quality street. It is really pleasant to know that I shall wake up tomorrow slightly middle-aged. Little Miss Libby, my dance. La, Captain. There's something I've been wanting to tell you all evening. Oh? Miss Libby, you must learn that it is not the flaunting flower in love. It is the modest violet. And when you were acquainted with what love really is... Oh, what do you know of love, sir? Well, I am in love with a lady who is once very like you. Not... It is your Aunt Libby whom I love. You're making sport of her. No, Miss Libby. You certainly don't mean tired, unattractive Libby. All the beautiful memories of my life center around her. Memories. That is the Libby you love, the bright girl of the past, not the school mistress in her cab. Fair you, wrong me, for I have discovered that the school mistress is the noblest Miss Phoebe of them all. Tell me, Miss Libby, do you think there is any hope for me? I know this. There was a man whom Miss Phoebe loved long ago, but he did not love her. Now, here was a fool. He kissed her once, but he forgot about it. I suppose men are like that. No, Miss Libby, men are not like that. I am a very average man, but thank God I am not like that. It was you. Did Miss Phoebe tell you that? Yes. She told me all about it. It was raining and her face was wet. You said you did it because her face was wet. I had quite forgotten. She remembers. I must win her. Miss Libby, with your help... My help? I have not helped. I tried to spoil it all. You mean that you tried to flirt with me, I know. And that is one of the things that has made me love her even more. Sir? You so resemble her as she was. For an hour, Miss Libby, you bewitched me, but it was only for an hour. How like at first, but soon it was. How unlike. I once called her a garden. A quiet, loving garden. That is the woman I wish to marry. Excuse me, Captain Brown. I must go now. I'm afraid I feel a bit faint. Certainly, ma'am. Susan. Oh, Susan. My dear, you're crying. That terrible thing, as he said to you. Terrible, glorious. Susan, it's Phoebe he loves. Not Libby. He loves me. Me, Phoebe. Phoebe, you cannot send me away again. I wrote and begged you not to come. How can you do that? Miss Phoebe, let me take care of you. No, Mr. Brown. Please, sir. I beg you no more. It is ended. I shall gradually turn into a grumpy, crusty, bottle-nosed old bachelor. Oh, Mr. Brown. Miss Phoebe, there are tears trembling on your eyes. No, Mr. Brown. No, there are not. You have shaken your head so emphatically, Miss Phoebe, that two girlish ringlets which seem to belong to Miss Libby have peaked out from your school, Mistress's cat. Oh, oh dear. Speaking of Miss Libby, where is she, Miss Phoebe? Oh, ill. She's quite ill. I desire to see you, Miss Libby. Oh, impossible. Why, on a physician? Perhaps I can cure her. Perhaps I can cure her for good. I'll confer with my sister. Oh, Susan, we must get rid of Libby and immediately. We can't, dear. All the busybodies up and down the street, they would have to see her leave. Well, quickly go in and tell Mr. Brown that Miss Libby is feeling better and we'll see him immediately. Yes, yes. Mr. Brown, I'm happy to inform you that Miss Libby is feeling better and we'll see you immediately. I shall be happy to see the poor endless. Ah, here she is. Lovely Libby of the ringlets. Yes. La, the bashing physician. Sit here, dear child. How do you think she's looking, Captain Brown? She will recover. By the way, where is Miss Phoebe? She hopes you will excuse her. She's taken the opportunity of airing the bedroom. Of course. Captain Brown, will it be you too, Phoebe? Miss Libby, I have a cure for you. The air of Quality Street is not good for you. My medical advice is that you leave for home today. Immediately, in fact. Leave? As it happens, my carriage is standing at your door. There's some wraps for her, Miss Susan. Blankets, a whole roll of them. Blankets? If you won't give them to me, perhaps Miss Phoebe will. No, go to the bedroom. Ah, Miss Phoebe. Still airing the room, I see. Two blankets rolled together will be fine. Thank you, dear Miss Phoebe. Good heavens. Who's he talking to? Oh, dear. Now, Miss Libby, we shall carry you into my carriage. Thus. And thus. Phoebe, he's rolling the blankets up to look like a person and carrying it out to the carriage. Say goodbye to you, dear aunts, Miss Libby. No, no, do not strain your tinkly little voice. I shall do it for you. So that all of Quality Street can hear. Goodbye, dear Aunt Susan. Goodbye, dear Aunt Phoebe. The poor, invalid Libby wishes you and all the ladies on Quality Street farewell. Libby? Susan. He is putting that bundle of blankets into the carriage and is ordering it to drive away. He is a fine gentleman. Oh, he is a fine doctor. He has cured us of the worst malady of our lives. The Libby epidemic. He's coming back. Oh, how can I face him? Oh, Susan. Once I thought he merely dashing. Then I lost my poor woman's love and faith in him. No, I know. He is the most noble of human beings. Oh, dear. Are my ringlets inside my capital out? Am I Libby or Phoebe? You are both, dear Phoebe. May I come in again? Oh, thank me, Captain Brown. Miss Phoebe. Yes? It is not raining. But your face is wet. I wish always to kiss you when your face is wet. Mr. Brown, you know all about Libby. Miss Libby will never trouble you again. I have sent her home. Oh, sir. How can you invent such a story for us? I did not. I invented it for all the nosy ladies who watched me from their windows. You're not angry? I am furious. Can't you tell from the ferocious gleam in my heart? Oh, Mr. Brown. Dear Phoebe Throssel, will you become Phoebe Throssel Brown? No, you'll know everything. But you must know the most important thing, that I am not a gardener. I know everything, ma'am. Accept that. Sir, the dictates of my heart enjoin me to accept your too flattering offer. Come to my arms, Miss Phoebe. Oh, dear Mr. Brown. Yes, ma'am. Kisses and two. A few moments ago, I mentioned that hallmark cards are designed with but one thought in mind. If you give a card, you'll be proud to send, and one that will be received with pleasure. You may wonder why all this effort and insistence on quality for something as inexpensive as a greeting card. But did you ever stop to think that of all the purchases we make, a greeting card is something we buy only for others, never for ourselves? In a sense, it's like a gift. For ourselves, we might be content with less, but for others, we want it to reflect the very best. That's why the makers of hallmark cards are so particular about the design, the color, the colors, and the words that go inside a hallmark card. They know you want a card to represent you, your good taste in color and design, and your thoughts and feelings expressed in the right words. And it's because hallmark cards are made to such high standards that the hallmark on the back has come to mean so much to so many people. It's like the label on the box from the fine store where you select a gift. Like sterling on silver, it's a mark of distinction quickly recognized. If you see that hallmark on the back of a greeting card, they know you cared enough to send the very best. Here again is James Hilton. Deborah Carr, we certainly enjoyed your performance as Miss Phoebe tonight. Thank you for being with us. An invitation to appear on hallmark playhouses always exciting, Mr. Hilton. And to be asked for the premiere show of the season, well, that's one of those special occasions Frank Goss talks about... We were lucky you weren't off on one of your filmmaking adventures, Deborah. It certainly keeps you traveling, don't you? Yes, but I love it. History has always fascinated me. No matter how much you study it, you're always learning something you didn't know. For instance, when Frank Goss told me about the origin of hallmark tonight, I didn't know the name actually was a combination of mark and hall. Of course, I've always known the name hallmark means the finest in greeting cards. It seems we agree on just about everything, Deborah. So I'm sure you'll agree that our choice of the story for next week's hallmark playhouses is the most timely one. It's the life story of the man who wrote the Star Spangled Banner, Francis Scott King. Oh, how fascinating. We sing his song so often, and yet know so little of the man himself. That's true. And since next week is the 137th anniversary of the writing of the Star Spangled Banner, we thought it a fitting time to tell the great story. And to play the role of Francis Scott King, we are indeed happy to welcome back a star who has become one of the hallmark playhouse favorites, Robert Young. Our hallmark playhouses every Thursday, our producer director is Bill Gay. Our music is composed and conducted by David Rose, and our story tonight was dramatized by Lawrence and Lee. Until next Thursday then, this is James Hilton saying, Good night. When Hallmark Playhouse returns to present Robert Young in FS Key Smith's story of Francis Scott King. And the week following, Anthony hopes the prisoner of Zenda is starring Douglas Fairbanks. And the week after that, Muriel Elwood's Web of Destiny on the Hallmark Playhouse. This is the CDS Week. This is KMBC, Kansas City, Missouri.