 The Halls of Ivy, starring Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Coleman. This is Ronald Coleman. And Benita Coleman. A drink of Tongue's desperate last gulps of scorching coffee and a mad dash for the bus station. But for Dr. William Todd Hunter Hall, president of Ivy and his wife, Victoria, it's usually an unruffled few moments put aside for their private lives. This morning, for instance, Victoria is arranging a bowl of flowers on the table, while Dr. Hall is thoughtfully staring at a highly polished spoon. There, now. Nothing like a few well-rained renuncul- Renun- Hmm, and, uh, what's the plural of renunculus, Toddie? Oh, you could express it in three different ways. One, Latin, renunculee. Two, English, renunculuses. Three, idiomatic. Uh, some of these pretty watch-a-ma-call-its. Oh, yeah. I'll take the idiotic way. But, uh, they do make a pretty blink, don't they? Ha-ha, they do indeed. Yes, they start the morning off very well. But it is the picture of Victoria, well and beautifully arranged in the opposite chair, which sustains me for the rest of the day. Oh, darling, I do feel lovely and conceited, but at breakfast, too. Where my emotions about your concern at the time of day is unimportant, my heart ticks away, but it strikes no hours. Besides, I've never subscribed to the popular belief originated by some sour cynic and perpetuated by comic strip artists that the breakfast table is necessarily a battleground, strewn with bad manners and resounding with the clash of personalities. That's because you are a dear love. As my father used to say, the world would be a happier place if people would start the day by drinking a toast to someone instead of just eating it with someone. Oh, that's a wonderful idea, the toast. Here's to William, the light of my life, from a woman who is extremely happy that I happen to be his wife. Thank you. Well, the meat and the grammar may be a little bit ragged, but the sentiment is sincere. The meat, it doesn't matter as long as I did. Did what? A meter. To interrupt a nice sentimental conversation, may I ask why you keep staring into that teaspoon? What's the matter with it? You want a clean one? No, no, no, no, it's quite clean and handsomely polished. No, I was merely fascinated by the optical illusions caused by by the reflections in a concave surface. In it, I am upside down. It's very refreshing. Refreshing? Yes. It's a matter of perspective, of course, but any device which can show things in a new light is both stimulating and therapeutic. Oh, you mean if the world could see itself reflected in his teaspoons, it might stop waving its knives. It's something like that. And then, too, there is a school of thought which believes that standing on one's head early in the morning is stimulating to the brain. It's each good book. Well, I'll ask you to see who walks to the front door on his hands. Have you got a quarter? No. No, it's a while, volunteer. Well, if it's a salesman working his way through college, tell him so, will we? It's a better one. It's good to see you. Come in, come in. I know it's an unholy hour to call, Doc, but I'm on a tight schedule today. Morning, Mrs. Hall. Well, hello, stranger. Come in and join us for a cup of coffee. All right, Mrs. Hall, but only four teaspoons full. And pull down the shades. I've already had my allowance this morning. That housekeeper of mine counts every sip I swallow. I think she's in the secret service of my insurance company. And how is the faithful, Miss Burgess? Minding my business as usual? How are you nice people? Much better now that our favorite history professor has finally decided to pay us a visit. Here's your coffee. Oh, a full cup. Thanks for contributing to my delinquency. I never realized how much I missed you two, since I've been fighting with the publishers of that nauseating monstrosity of mine, which appeared under the revolting pen name of Llewellyn Lafayette. Now they won't be to answer all his fan mail. Gee. Oh, but I understood you had become reconciled to your triumph as a popular novelist. Oh, yes. But who am I kidding? I'm a glorious failure wallowing in a disgusting success. Ah, and you love it. And it obviously agrees with you, too. Yes. Now, I tell us, Professor, how was your lecture tour this summer? Well, Doc, after autographing the umpteenth thousandth copy of The Heart of Passion, I kidded myself into believing that the honking candor that was old Professor Warren had suddenly become the singing swan that is Llewellyn Lafayette. Say, Mr. Hall, before I forget what it really came for, have you got a lace tablecloth I can borrow? A lace tablecloth? Why, of course, and you're more than welcome to it. And maybe four fancy napkins. I know I'm more the arsenic than the old lace type. But frankly, I didn't know where else to go on such short notice. Well, I'm glad you came to us, but you sound so desperate about it. Are you testing out a new washing powder to win a prize? You know, I like Quincy's wincies because in twenty-five words or less. No, something as easy as that. I'm giving an unexpected dinner tomorrow night, and I need you to even more than your tablecloth. That's an irresistible invitation, Professor. Thank you. Well, about seven. Black tie, if I can find mine. Well, so on, folks, I gotta meet a place. Goodbye, Mr. Hall. Dude, and the flower in his buttonhole. And the hair cut. You don't suppose he's beginning to believe his own publicity, do you? Something's happened. I'm familiar with his contempt for convention, but this anxiety of his about a lace tablecloth is a new and baffling facet of his character. Man, he was so anxious about it, he forgot to take it with him. I have finally met an absent-minded professor. Now, this dinner seems to be an affair of state. Yeah. Vicki, I wonder if it could be his publisher who's coming. Well, absent-minded professor regains memory. You get the door, Toddie. I'll get the tablecloth. Ah, your tablecloth, I presume, Professor. Yep, yes, I left my head at home this morning. Doc, I used to think I remembered everything. Now, I realize I just ignored everything I forgot. Yes, man doesn't realize how much he's indebted to his subconscious. He can do something without knowing why and then find several splendid reasons for having done it. It may account for many of history's heroes. I hear you are, Professor, and the Neptune. Thanks, Mrs. Hall. It's not gonna be a party, mind you. In fact, just you two and, uh... Fern. Fern? Mrs. Winthrop. Mrs. Winthrop, have we met her? No, I was gonna keep her a secret until the psychological moment, but I guess I better prepare you for the shock. Don't ask me how it happened, but I've got me a lady friend. Wonderful, Professor Warren. I wouldn't call it shocking, but it is a delightful surprise. Congratulations. Well, thanks. In a way, you might say it was a forgotten moment in my past that caught up with me in, uh, of all places. Salina, Kansas. I was there on the lecture tour. Fern's quite the literary light out there, you know. President of the Byron Society, no less. A window. Well, this is the time to go window shopping just before Christmas. Charming woman. Seems to grasp things. Insight, sympathy, genuine enthusiasm. Ever known a woman quite like Fern? Which could be explained by the fact that I've never known very many women. Oh, but Fern... Wait, did you see her? We've been looking forward to meeting her. Is she staying here and I belong? Huh? Oh, oh, yes. She's visiting with relatives and she, uh... That is, I persuaded her to step over at Ivy and see her at campus and... And? What? What'd you say? Well, uh, well, would you like me to wrap up the tablecloth in napkins? Oh, no, no, I haven't time, Mrs. Hall. If any of the nosy neighbors see me, I'll just tell them I've started to take in watering. Wouldn't startle them half as much as the truth. Plains everything. Yes. This would be the place to say, well, what do you know? If either one of us ever said, well, what do you know? Yeah. Which neither one of us would be called dead, saying. Which is the first time I ever said, called dead. I suppose I'm slightly staggered by the news that the last of the incorrigible bachelors is thrown in the sponge. Yeah, it looks like the last of the tobacco-truing professors is going to have to switch to bubblegum. But Professor Warren, he was the one man who always seemed to be self-sufficient, self-reliant, a self-contained entity. Ah, Vicki, I'm afraid he's, uh, got it bad. Yeah, if you're it refers to what I think it refers to, and you got it bad enough, it isn't bad, it's good. Coming acquainted with his lady-pred, Mrs. Fern Winthrop. Well, it's been a long time since you've been in my house, folks. Joseph has told me so much about you two that I feel as though I've all... Since Professor Warren always unvarnishes the truth, Mrs. Winthrop, that leaves us without a pretense to stand on. Yeah, and he puts it as a disadvantage. He tells you all about us and kept you a big secret. Well, Mrs. Hall, you know I suffer from a kind of natural shyness. I almost said diffidence, but diffidence is always used to explain someone's bad manners. Oh, your shyness is one of your sweetest qualities, Joseph. It's what I remember most about you. Fern sees me through the wrong end of the telescope. It was way back more than 40 years ago. I was just as though it were yesterday. Isn't it wonderful how fate kept us apart over the years, just so we could meet again at the age of discussion? I don't believe this fate is really blind. Do you, Dr. Hall? I, um... Well, I... It may be due to my own blindness, Mrs. Winthrop, but I think that the best way to keep faith on your side is to have faith. Oh! You just have to go visit a sick sister or something. And now Joseph tells them the truth. They might as well know that your housekeeper simply walked out on you. Mrs. Hall, you have no idea how insolent she was to him. If there's anything that I loathe, it's a woman who bullies a man. Oh, Joseph dear, I meant the silver leaf-ash-trace, not those old shit glasses. Can't find them, Fern. Well, never mind, dear. I always say that if a man can't be the master in his own house, well, then I think... Oh, but there I go. I happen to let anyone else get a word in edgewise. When I get started on the subject of Joseph Warren, I never know when to start. Oh, you needn't stop, Mrs. Winthrop. He's one of our favorite subjects, too. With the added advantage that you can discuss him in mixed company. Oh! Now, if I'm going to be in a fishbowl, everybody else has got to dive in it with me. A fishbowl? Well, that's it. I knew something was missing in this room. What happened to it, Professor? Well, we'll, um... The fish were getting tired of looking at me anyway, so I threw them out. Along with that old leather chair of mine. Mrs. Hall, the minute I stepped into this room, I could sense the conflict. Why, that hideous old chair quarreled with everything else in here. Mostly me. Fern's made me realize that that chair was the story of my life. Comfortable, hidebound, and sagging. This summer, he kept apologizing for his age, and I said age was only a habit. Now, that chair was one of his habits. Why, Joseph has a whole new life ahead of him, and I don't just mean because of his novel. There's real poetry in Joseph. Oh, I don't claim to be any Lord Byron, but I used to be pretty good at limericks. Wrote one about you, Wostock. Really? Can you remember it? And a mother forget her children? Certainly I remember it. Will Hall, Ph.D., and M.A. Solve difficult problems each day. To keep his school in the groove, which just goes to prove, he's the will that proves there's a way. Very flattering, Professor. And it's refreshing to be the subject of a limerick that can be quoted without sending the children out of the room. I'm so glad you mentioned Byron, Joseph. I can't wait to talk to you people about him. He's my subject, you know. I can quote him for hours and hours, and I get started. Oh, oh, oh, you must, people must be starting. Of course, I hadn't expected to cook tonight, and that woman left so unexpectedness on the island to help Mrs. Wintrock. I used to slice bread quite neatly until the bakers in the fit of jealousy started selling it already cut. Oh, no, no, thank you. It's all in the oven. It'll be done 15 minutes or so. But I do have a few calories. Will you excuse me? And, Joseph. Yes. Would you mind helping me, dear? Make yourself at home, folks. Coming, Fern. Love that old leather chair, Toddy. Or was the nicest thing in the whole room? Yes, it was comfortable, wasn't it? And Burgies was a very valuable woman. I missed the fish, too. Such good little things. They never jumped up on your lap to have their ears scratched. Oh, dear. I hope first impressions won't last. Oh, Vicki, I'm reminded of a scene in my parents' living room when I brought one of my first girls home to meet them. Of course, mind you, it never amounted to anything. You'd have to explain, darling, at this late day. But I was both apprehensive and defensive. I so wanted my mother and father to approve. Oh, come on. What did they do? Nothing. Very effectively and with great charm, they did nothing and it broke the spell. I learned then that non-intervention in matters romantic is the highest form of diplomacy and that the course of true love is not banked on the sharp turns. What was most remarkable was that despite his impatience and slovenly technique, Byron's temperament and vigor gave his verse a tamper all its own. Take the momentum of his anapest, for instance. I enter thy garden of roses. Or better still, the Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold. The cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold and the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea. Oh, God, oh, Mrs. Hawes! Lovely delivery. You should have gone on the stage. David's some sort at one time. You should have obeyed those impulses, dear. Joseph, do you remember the first time I read that poem to you? Yep, I remember. And best of all, of course, is the one that every woman wishes was written for her. Just in beauty like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies. And all its best of dark and bright is meeting her ass-pests and her eyes. Thus mellowed to that tender light which heaven to gaudy day denies. Oh, what fun! This is what I meant by the companionship I said you needed. Well, Furn, I guess I'm not as pigheaded about poetry as I used to be. Ladies and gentlemen, you are a remarkable woman. You have accomplished the impossible. I have been able to discuss and debate the good many things with my friend here, but every time I mention the poet, especially one of the romantics, the wall of indifference became impenetrable. Congratulations, Professor. And welcome to our association for inculurable romance. Well, we are certainly all inculing with each other tonight, aren't we? Oh, through poetry, we are part of the larger harmonies around us. Poetry helps to brighten up the world for us, doesn't it, Dr. Hall? Yes. Yes, a poet himself once observed that if you take an old dull brown penny and rub it vigorously with wet sand, the penny will come out a bright gold color, looking as clean and new as the day it was minted. Poetry has the same effect on words and our world as wet sand on pennies. I've the change right here. All right. Good morning, Professor Warren. Wet sand. Come in. I don't want to be brightened up. Well, good morning, Mrs. Hall. Sit down, Professor. You look tired. We ought to be. Spent most of the night swimming in the hellish pond. Then I got stuck in miles and miles of wet sand. When I woke up, it was 3 a.m. and I couldn't get back to sleep. So I came over to tell you folks that I woke up. Well, good morning, Professor. Good morning. I want to know one thing, Doc. Are you trying to marry me off to that wet sand? Professor, why do you assume that I should be trying to marry you off to anybody? Doc, what happened to me? Does the brain really soften when the arteries start to harden? I guess if I had any blood left in me, I'd be blushing with shame. Well, what for? The only thing worth blushing for, sheer stupidity. For not recognizing that the spots in front of my eyes are just plain dust without any stars in them. And for leading on a kind and pleasant woman. I can only redeem myself now by saving her from an unhappy life. With me. Mrs. Wensrup seemed to be extremely happy with you last night. Not when I took my charm off. Why didn't you do? I just stopped being Llewell and Lafayette and became Joe Warren again. First I told her what I thought of Byron. There's plenty, but not enough. Then I told her I wanted my bad habits back. I'll let her chair for one and the fish. But what really threw her was when I took out my plug at you in tobacco. I got honest again, Doc. And you folks know that I'm a pretty cranky old man when I'm a true self. Oh, we don't know anything of the kind. Frankly, I agree with what Mrs. Wensrup said about you. What? Well, you do have poetry. You know how you express it is another matter. But I've learned that if one looks over the wall, however high and insurmountable it may seem, one will always find the garden in the heart of any man. Well, maybe, Doc. But we don't all grow roses, do we? Maybe some of us just have a small backyard with one shade tree, and have grown so used to it alone that we don't know how to share it anymore. Goodbye, Professor. Goodbye, Professor. And we're glad you're back. Thanks. Maybe you two didn't have anything to do with saving me and Fern from a fate worse than. But I want to thank you anyway, because I think maybe you did. And to quote Byron for the last time, maybe I am ashes where I once was fire. But when you get along toward winter, there's nothing like ashes to keep you from slipping. Policy of nonintervention seems to have been a diplomatic triumph. Yes. Yes, I've always believed that the unknown sculptor of the Venus to Milo deliberately left it incomplete. Why? To show the world that the goddess of love recommended a hands-off policy. To show why Cupid never wears any clothes. Love should have nothing up its sleeve.