 Parmoly soap, Colgate Dental Cream, and Parmoly Shave Cream bring you our Miss Brooks starring Eve Arden. It's time once again for another comedy episode of Our Miss Brooks and Stripes. Ever since our Miss Brooks became an English teacher at Madison High, her motto has been Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Mr. Boynton. But the shy biologist happens to be one of Cupid's coolest customers. That's not easy to warm him up. So far, the best remedy I've found is a hot water bottle. My frustration reached a new high when, for some mysterious reason, Mr. Boynton coldly and deliberately avoided me last Monday, and Tuesday, and Wednesday. Those were three days of no dates, no nothing. And by Thursday morning, his brush off treatment had rendered me unbewitched, but definitely bothered and bewildered. Since I considered the matter highly personal, I decided not to discuss it with my landlady, Mrs. Davis, when I joined her at breakfast. Good morning, Kylie. Would you like some oatmeal? I'm glad you brought it up. I haven't seen him in three days. Well, I haven't the slightest idea who you're talking about there. Good. You say you haven't even seen Mr. Boynton in the past three days. I think we can't understand his behavior. I can. Mr. Boynton has a guilty conscience, Connie. I feel it's my duty to still what I know. Still what you know? Exactly. Connie, would it surprise you to learn that Mr. Boynton is a two-timer? Yes, it would. With me, he's never even been a one-timer. He freed me to tell you this, dear. But last Monday, I saw him gallivanting around town with another woman. Another woman? So that's you. This woman, Mrs. Davis, is she attractive? Beautiful, I thought. Aw. And about how old is she? I think she's about 65. 65? That's my competition? When he gets here, I'd like to be alone with him if you don't mind. I understand. I've got to get dressed and run over to the countains anyway. They scheduled a family reunion party for tomorrow night, and Mrs. Countin asked me to help with the preparations. Though I haven't had a family reunion in so long that she doesn't... Just a minute. That's probably Mr. Boynton. I'll leave you two alone then. So you can pump him about that old lady he's going with. There'll be no pumping, Mrs. Davis. I have no desire to delve into his personal affairs. Where do you wish? I'll see you later, dear. Come in. Good morning, Miss Brooks. Hello, Mr. Boynton. Please sit down. Thanks. I'll pour some coffee, and we'll have a nice little chat. Anything in particular you'd like to talk about? Well, no, nothing in particular, Miss Brooks. You pick the topic. Oh, no. You're my guest. You pick the topic. All right. Let's just talk about the weather. Fine. I'd like to know whether you plan to keep going with that old lady. Old lady? What old lady? She's a kid about 65. Oh, that old lady. That's the one. Get it. What's a 65-year-old woman got that I won't have? Now, just a minute. You see, I bought new furniture for my apartment last month, and since then I've been terribly in debt. For weeks, in fact, my landlady has been hounding me for the rent. So? So I simply couldn't figure out how I could pay off my obligation until I saw this ad in the paper. Here, read it. Let's see. Wounded companion, evening, 7 to 11. Salway, $35 for weeks. Send photographs and information to Joe Marcelle, Carlton Hotel. Well, I sent a note along with my photo, and the very next day the party sent me one month's salary in advance. In advance? $140. Now, until I actually reported for work, I had no idea that Joe Marcelle was a woman. An old maid in her 60s, in fact. Joe was short for Josephine, you see. Well, naturally, I wanted a kid right off the bat. Well, I didn't do. I couldn't miss this. I'd already spent $140. Oh, great. Phillip Boynton, the lady's home companion. The only way I could get out of a job would be to return Miss Marcelle's money. Now, in view of my best predicament, I was wondering if you might let me borrow enough. Well, that is... Could you give me a check for $140? Personally. Then we could take carrying, bouncing it to the bank. I'm as broke as you are, Mr. Boynton. Then I'm stuck. Now, please understand. My relationship with Miss Marcelle is purely a business one. My principal duty being to escort her to fashionable places for dinner. Of course, she pays the check. Yes. Same type deal we have. We always go dutch and you know it. I apologize. What are some of your other duties? Well, she happens to have very poor eyesight. So after dinner, I have to read to her. Then, when the reading is over, she passed me on the head as if I were a little boy and sends me home. Good night, son, she says. Son, she calls me son. It fares my heart out. Don't cry in the coffees, we can have. Mr. Boynton, although it's perfectly innocent, I'm afraid that you're whisking an elderly woman about town. They cause tongues to wag. Yes, I'm well aware of that. I dread to think of the consequences that Mr. Conflin should get wind of it. In fact, I want you to favor me with the same promise I exacted from Miss Marcelle. If I should be asked the identity of my companion, she said, I promise that I'll never mention your name, son. I promise too. Now, pick up your beanie, son, and I'll race you to school. Good morning, Harriet. Oh, hi, Miss Brooks. I was just going over to your classroom to look for you. Daddy said you were at a must right to withdraw from the double. All right, Harriet. I hope my barracks bag is on straight. I know. Good morning, Mr. Conflin. This is your first class at a boarding class. Daddy! Yes, Miss Brooks? No, thank you. I'll stand, sir. Then I'll get right to the point. The members of my wife's family and of mine have come to town for a little family reunion. Oh, yes. Mrs. Davis mentioned that to me this morning. There's a most of them splendid people, good stocks, but one or two are rather eccentric, particularly my sister, Hilda. Frankly, I'm worried about her, Miss Brooks. About Hilda? Yes, but I shouldn't really call her a Hilda. She still uses a stage name, Joe Marcel. What? The, uh, the Joe is short for Josephine, is he? What did you say, Mr.? I just said, whoop. That's short for, I think, I'll sit down after all. Do that. It's not for the fact that I need your help, Miss Brooks. I would not dare utter the horribly embarrassing expressions that you are about to hear. Miss Brooks, yes, sir? My sister is paying $35 a week to a gigolo. I inquired as to the cad's identity, but Josephine subtly refused to divulge his name. However, in an unguarded moment, Josephine let it slip that the water is a member of Madison's faculty. How do you like lamb apples? Not very tasty, sir. Why are you telling me all this? Because I want you to help me unmask back here. Well... Then it's circle. There's mine, we're looking for the flicker size, Miss Brooks, and if you should need someone to assist you. Hey, maybe Mr. Pointon could help you find the wolf I want. I don't doubt that at all. But when Mr. Pointon told me to school this morning, I noticed he was very tired, sir. Dead tired, really. So rather than burden him with... Oh, come in, boys, and come in. Thank you, sir. Now, Harriet told me I'd find you here, Miss Brooks. Here's your purse. You left it in my car. Oh, thanks, Mr. Pointon. Mr. Pointon was just telling me about his sister. She came to town for a little family reunion. Your sister, Mr. Conklin, or nice? Her name is Joe Martel. See how tired he is, sir. He's just right on your floor. During the morning, Mr. Conklin made frequent visits to my classroom, and on each of those occasions, he expressed team disappointment over my not having picked up any information which might lead to the horse whipping of Josephine Gigolo. As I entered the school cafeteria at noon, I was met by Harriet Conklin, who lost no time in giving me a flash. Miss Brooks, I know the man who's going with Daddy's sister. You do? Yes, ma'am. I wouldn't dare tell Daddy, though. It's Mr. Pointon. You're kidding. No, I saw him escorting her into her hotel last night, and I think that woman's in her sixties. She was the first born in Daddy's family, Miss Brooks. Daddy was the last. That figures. Harriet, I hope you haven't read anyone else in on that little bulletin about Mr. Pointon. Oh, no, Miss Brooks. I didn't tell a soul. Except Walter Ganton. Oh, that's like giving it to Luella. He's blunting at the corner table, I see. Oh, I'm sure Walter won't go blabbing it around. I told him it was secret. Good. Excuse me, Harriet. Hello, Walter. Hello, Miss Brooks. Mr. Pointon's been running around Mr. Conklin's sister. Congratulations, your secret service badge is in the mail. You shouldn't spread gossip like that, Walter. It could lead to Mr. Pointon's having his license revoked by the Diggalows Union. He's been being dismissed from our faculty. Oh, Gersh, I wouldn't want that to happen. Actually, it's just a job, Walter. Miss Martell hired him to read books to her during the evening. How do you like that? For five years, he goes more or less steady with you only to wind up sending his evenings reading books to an old lady. I just doesn't make sense. No, it doesn't. Must seem pretty tame to him after all those years of whisking me to the zoo. But Mr. Pointon didn't really know what he was letting himself in for, Walter. Now he's got to figure a way out before Mr. Conklin can pass him. Well, maybe my agile brain can figure something out with him. Yeah, I'll get the old bean working. And before you know it, I might dream up something. Excuse me, may I speak with you privately, Miss Pointon? There's no need to speak to me, Mr. Pointon. Walter's heads to the entire situation. Yeah, I think it's real nervous. Of course, we're rather young, Mr. Pointon. But won't you join us, anyway? Thanks. I just talked to Miss Martell on the phone. I have to call her at noon every day to report you, and she said tonight we'll meet at 6.30, son. Sorry? She calls him son. Normally, I don't meet her until 7, but in spite of my discontent, she insisted that we meet a half hour earlier. Well, who is? Are we half hour cars, I guess? There's the wrong degree to take place, Mr. Pointon. Well, now that the heat is on, I didn't care to risk meeting her at her hotel, and certainly not at my apartment, so, well, this is an emergency, Miss Pointon, so I took the liberty of giving her your address. You're meeting her at my house? We'll be safe there. Yes, ma'am. He's going to hire a private detective the first thing in the morning. A private detective? With instructions to trail Miss Martell day and night, and to superficiously photograph anyone with whom she sees. Oh, we found the gigs up. Oh, you'll just have to quit, Mr. Pointon. At 10 o'clock. I received $140 in advance, Walter, and I've already spent it. I should tender my resignation. I'm afraid Miss Martell would demand the return of her money. Could you demand her lose back if she were to fire you? Well, no. According to our agreement, the money's mine, provided that I merely make myself available to her at the prescribed time. Of course, Miss Martell wouldn't dream of this charging me. She's too fond of me. She boasted, in fact, that in me, she had found the direct and synthesis of her former companion. Her former companion? Yes. She fired him upon discovering that he was possessed of a dangerous split-personality, Miss Book. While he was at all times the quintessence of propriety in her presence, she learned that he had another side. He was in the habit of consulting with unservery characters. Quick at gamblers and gangsters. Gangsters? Wait a minute. The old being's version that Mr. Brayton, you have just stumbled upon the means to get yourself back. What are you talking about, Walter? Well, it gets illusion, you old girl. If you assume those same unsavory characteristics when you meet her tonight, Mr. Brayton, she'll probably give you the bounce just like she gave it to the other guy. You're being absurd, Walter. Why, in her own words, she once said to me, one look at you, and I was convinced that you were a wholesome, home-spun, clean-cut American boy. She called him, son. Mr. Brayton, if you take my advice... I'll accept your advice any time, Miss Book. What is it? Now, look, I'll admit my idea is real crazy, but it can do the trick. You've got to act tonight, Mr. Brayton. By tomorrow, the sands of time will have run out on you. It'll be Mr. Conklin who will fire you. Miss Book, would you want to see Mr. Brayton leave dear old Madison? Maybe never to see him again? Oh, no! Don't listen to him, Miss Book. What's your advice? You've got to listen to me. Yes, give her the old split personality bit. Up to now, she's only... ...or I pan your eyes. Hello. I've been visiting with my sister, Josephine Harriet. I happened upon a startling revelation trial. All right. Thanks to a note I discovered as I was leaving Josephine's apartment. A note that she had carelessly left near her telephone. I learned the identity of the scoundrel to whom she's paying $35 a week. It's none other than Mr. Boynton. Boynton! A jiggler! I thought he was Miss Book's property. What did you not say, Daddy? It says meet Mr. Boynton 630 at 209 Carroll Avenue. 209 Carroll Avenue? Somehow that address strikes a familiar chord. Seems to me I read a Christmas card to that address on. Yes! That's Miss Book's house! How's it going, Daddy? How do you like that? He's linting him out! I hope you don't mind having dinner in the kitchen, Mr. Boynton. I'm not at all, Miss Book. Hey, I like this corned beef hash you cook. It looks different. It must be. It's supposed to be a real cutlet. Miss Marfola could be here in a few minutes. You'd better study your part. I need... We're in the kitchen, Mrs. Davis. There's no need to let Mrs. Davis in on our scene, Mr. Boynton. By the time she gets back from the movies, it'll all be over. I wish it were over now. I'm getting awfully nervous. Excuse me, Coach. I'm sure I'll be at the movies for quite a spell, Connie. I'm going to see Frankie Sinatra, and from here to the carnival. Fine. I don't have to wait for the Mickey Mouse shirt subject spell. I read the book. I've got an idea. Don't forget to fill the goldfish bowl for me, Mr. Boynton. I won't. Good night, Mrs. Davis. Good night, Collin. Good evening, Margaret. Oh, of good conscience. Oh, you're startling me. Hello, Harriet. Oh, hi, Mrs. Davis. Were you leaving? Yes, for the movies. But it's so sweet of you to drop over. Why not visit with Miss Book and Mr. Boynton? Get out in the kitchen. Good idea. Splendid. We'll catch up with you later, Margaret. No. Come on, Daddy. She said they were in the kitchen. That's precisely why we're not going to the kitchen. Having Mrs. Davis let us in without announcing our presence is a stroke of luck. Now we can duck behind these hall curtains and ease the drop. Daddy, isn't that an offering? Smooth and trick? Yes, indeed. Quiet now. Take 30, Mr. Boynton. Better wait in the living room. To there. Where? That sofa near the hall curtain. Right under the statue of the gargoyle. The one that always reminds me of Mr. Compton. Now wipe that pleasant expression off your face and try to look thin, Mr. Boynton. Remember, you're playing an underworld part. I'll do my best, but I'm not sure I can go through with it. Oh, that must be Miss Martell. I'll wait in the kitchen for my shoes. Good luck. Thanks. Let's come in. You're leaving, Mr. Boynton. How are you? I said how are you, Mr. Boynton? Something wrong, Mr. Boynton? Sit down, babe. Babe, what's this mean, Mr. Boynton? Miss Martell? No, it's what. What? No, let's get out of business, doll. Doll? I thought we ought to bat the breeze a little tonight about my salary. I need more loot. Loot? Oh, what come over you? What happened to the sweet, clean-cut boy you used to be, son? Now look, sister. I don't have to go into that namby's namby. Act so seven o'clock, which is when I go on duty for you, according to our deal. So you got me a half hour early. So my agent insists I get a raise. And we ain't standin' for no sullen from no dame, no house. You're gay, Mr. Boynton. There must be some kind of a joke. You told me you're a sister. That's right. I teach kids to pick pockets. Now make something out of it. Oh, good heaven, you've gone mad. I wish you two wouldn't talk so loud. You're discerning the bass game in the back room. Dice game? Who are you? She's my agent. Now you better cough up that raise, chubby. We wouldn't put on to put the screws on you, would we, fellas? That's right. I ain't ever put the screws on no dame since I look shy. Shy? That's underworld talk. Oh, that's what I think I'm going to say. Not here. We'll charge your extra. Now let's get with it, Marcell. You either cough up more moolah or I'll put the clamps on him reading Shakespeare to you. How dare you? That's who you think you are, but that's who you're that man. She's my wife, that's who. What? His spouse. The little woman. The old ball and chain. A better hat. The old battle axe. The mother of my father. He calls me mom. Come in. Oh, it isn't our son, Walter. Only 16, but big as a horse. How are you, son? Good. My grandson, he was a cop. What is this, Miss Marcell? I hate Marcell. Oh, gee, you got to be the chief all day to take my day. It's only 35 fish a week. What? That's bad news, son. You don't seem to want to give the raise. Oh, silly, gee. Well, well, well, well, am I going to get the move out of by a new crooked roulette? We open schools. That's good enough. Goodbye, Mr. Boyden. And of this moment, consider yourself a god. Does it, Mr. Boyden? Just about. Of course, as soon as I can dig up the amount she paid, I'll send it back to her. Every penny of it. Gosh, when she hired me just to escorted her to dinner and read books to her, perfectly harmless things. The poor woman had such faith in me. And now this had to happen. Oh, come on. Cheer up, Mr. Boyden. I thought everything worked out well. So did I, Mr. Boyden. Me, too, son. Mr. Cartman. Gee, I got to be blowing back to shy. No, you don't. Sit down, babe. Mrs. Davis has harrier than me in as she was leaving for the movies, Miss Brooke. And behind that curtain, we heard every word of your dead-end bits. Ah, yes. I better wait for you out in the car, dad. Bye, father. Well, you know, that little group is there to report him. Is Briggs anywhere? Briggs? Get me a tall one. I can leap off. Mr. Boyden. From what I overheard, it's clear to me now that your association with my sister Josephine was of a perfectly harmless nature. Well, why didn't you come to me and explain that fact? Oh, well, sir, I was afraid that if you... Ireland! It's also clear to me that your little gangster scene was perpetrated to go to her into firing you before I could find out you were in her employ. And now that it's all over, all I can say to a lot of you is... Bless you. Huh? Bless us. Bless you. Who sees? I have tried vainly to persuade Josephine from hiring males and pandas, because those she has had in the past proved to be a mercenary lot of lame-brained loafers. In view of her violent reaction to your performance, I doubt that you'll ever hire another. I feel that I owe you a debt of gratitude. You really mean that, sir? From the bottom of my heart. I must be going now. Thank you, well and all, and good-bye. Wait, I think I'm going to the movies with Harriet, sir. I thought I was the one who was right, Mr. Rook. Bye. Say, that gangster scene did serve a pretty good purpose after all, Mr. Rook. We're not fine. You know, even though it was Walter Denton's brainchild, you're the one who convinced me that I should go through with it. I don't know how to thank you, Mr. Rook. You doubt? Think a little. I wish I could think of something, but I just can't. What can I do, Miss Rook, to show my appreciation? Sit down, babe.