Original subtitles

♪ By then ♪

♪ I should have the chance ♪

♪ By fiddling to entrance ♪

♪ And fill with ardor of romance ♪

♪ The prettiest girls in France ♪

♪ And while I'd play ♪

♪ My yearning eyes would say ♪

♪ My yearning eyes would say ♪

♪ To you, beautiful lady ♪

♪ I raise my eyes ♪

♪ My heart, beautiful lady ♪

♪ To your heart sighs ♪

♪ Come, come, beautiful lady ♪

♪ To paradise ♪

♪ Ere the sweet, sweet waltz dream dies ♪

♪ Fly, fly, beautiful lady ♪

♪ On light, bright wings ♪

♪ While the rapture of music ♪

♪ Around us swings ♪

♪ Dream, dream ♪

♪ Dream and forget ♪

♪ Care, pain, useless regret ♪

♪ Come, come, beautiful lady ♪

♪ In my arms sing ♪

Don't wiggle.

Punk, what possesses you?

You've been eating that fern again, haven't you?

Oh, you bad cat.

Go on, now, Punk. Go on.

Come on. Come on. Come on.

Don't let Punk up, Clinton.

Come on, Punk. Go on down there.

What kind of haberdashery's all that?

I hate Jones for a name.

Jones is a good name.

Easy to remember,

short to write.

It's too plain.

Papa, you think our name is really Jones?

I wish you were a changeling, Papa,

and our name was something else.

Don't be worrying

about being no changeling.

Just aim to amount to something.

Won't matter whether your name

is Jones or Finnegan or Andrew J. Poopaw.

Good wine needs no bush.

Now, look, get that cat off the register.

I don't want that hot air coming up through his fur,

giving me back my old malaria.

Get him off there!

Sitting around there,

walling up his old germs.

Punk's clean and healthy and hasn't any germs.

What good's a cat anyhow?

How about throwing him away?

Clinton, you just like to hear yourself talk.

You don't fool even Punk.

I wish we could have a dog.

A cat's so tacky-looking.

Dan Weymouth thinks he's a bright cat,

and he loves you, Clinton.

Who? Dan Weymouth?

Oh, Clinton,

Punk, of course. Punk loves you.

And well he might

because you've taught that cat

every blessed thing he knows.

Come on. Come on. Jump over there.

Jump.

Loves me in a pig's patootie.

That's not nice.

Papa, everyone else has got one,

so why can't we have a telephone?

Wouldn't have one

if you gave it to me as a gift.

You'd have felt awful

that day president Cleveland died

if you couldn't have called up Mrs. Litchfield

to tell Mama to hang our flag at half-mast.

How often do you think

that occasion's going to arise?

I wish our name was Cleveland.

There's a girl goes to Quincy Mansion School

called Fentress Serene Kerlin.

Queen of the Hawaiian islands' name

is Liliuokalani.

I don't know what it has to do with anything.

All right. Get down.

Oh, Mama, you haven't...

Clinton, do you think you could get the furnace

to give out a little more heat?

It ain't the furnace.

It's the coal. Order a ton

of half nut and half egg,

and what do you get?

Ton full of clinkers.

About as much heat

as a whale's hind fin.

I had to get your father to go do that

so I could tell you about this skirt.

It's all wrong, Mama. Hazel Dawn...

Hazel Dawn can wear her skirts

any way she feels called to,

but I'll not have you wear any skirt

like that actresses picture you sHowed me.

Hazel Dawn doesn't live in Wollaston, please remember.

But slit skirts are...

Are all the rage!

Well, let them be,

but I'll not have you walk around Wollaston...

In a skirt split halfway up past all decency.

Oh, Mama!

Want people to think you live in a harem?

But it's how the dress has to be.

It has to, Mama.

It's what gives it that frenchy touch.

All you'd have to do is

walk up Newport Avenue once in that dress

and everyone in Wollaston would know

you'd all at once decided to be an actress.

It doesn't cost any more

to have it stylish, does it?

Ruth, do you or do you not want your father

to know you want to be an actress?

No.

All right.

Then don't go appearing before him

in a hobble skirt with a slit.

You'll not only look like an actress.

You'll look downright fast.

If it wasn't for you and Papa,

I'd go in Boston and be fast right this minute.

How can you say such a thing?

You go in the parlor and cool off.

Well, if I do...

Will you talk to Papa some more

about having a telephone?

Go put on your other dress.

If the furnace hasn't made him mad, I will.

Thermometer says 4 above.

Of course, it ain't reliable.

Nobody's thermometer is.

It's warmer in here already.

The register's letting out real heat.

Papa, if you could choose any telephone number,

what would you choose?

123-skidoo.

When people telephone us, it's free.

And rest assured, Clinton,

you personally wouldn't have to have

a thing to do with it.

It could just be Ruth's and mine.

It can be Ruth's and Naomi's for all I care,

as long as I don't have to pay for it.

Got your grocery list ready for Purse's?

Clinton, you want to do that now?

Might as well. Get it over with.

What did I do with...

careful! Don't burn the shack down, now,

jiggling that lamp.

I won't, Clinton.

A telephone would be more convenient

to call up the fire station.

My unity got caught in the top...

my mental science magazine.

I wish you'd read it, Clinton.

It helps me a good deal.

What's this thing?

Oh, my library withdrawal card

to keep my place with.

Mental science is awful hard to follow

if you ever lose your place.

Gracious, breakfast will be upon us,

and I haven't mixed my buckwheat batter.

Ruth, did you get the flour from the market?

You got a Backus grocery bill this month?

Uh... yes, I did.

One or two little items...

it beats the Dutch. I don't understand it.

Every two weeks, we get a shipment of groceries

from Boston from S.S. Purse.

Every Saturday, i bring home the vegetables

and the meat from Faneuil Hall market.

Friday, I get a fish at the T. Wharf,

and yet every month,

we got that measly Backus grocery bill!

Can't tell exactly absolutely

two weeks ahead

just what I'm going to be needing

for the next two weeks to come.

What?

I just don't know what we're going to need

for the next two weeks to come.

It beats the Dutch why you can't.

A cook on a ship can do it.

If you're laying out in the Straits of Singapore

and you want a can of lard,

there's just two things you can do.

You can have it with you or do without.

I know it, Clinton. Don't think I don't.

We got to sit around and watch

old Backus' whole pie-faced family riding around

in a two-seated carriage every sunday.

Well, where is it? Get it out.

You know it won't get paid by just regretting it.

What's this... butter?

I thought she was going to go up

and get that stuff that the farmer

brings in to Brighams every week.

The Brighams live way up on Prospect.

Climbing up that hill and all,

Ruth says it hurts her back.

Climbs up the hill when she goes coasting.

Carrying butter tires her out.

But we don't take but 3 pounds a week.

Now, Clinton, you know yourself,

she's just at the growing age.

Lazy as a louse. That's what she is.

How old is she, anyway? 14? 15?

I'm 17, Papa.

17? At your age, I had nine years before the mast,

two of them under a ma...

What's the cat's meat?

That the steak we had last night?

Of course not.

That was called Louisiana Steak.

It was a receipt I got out of the Boston Globe,

and you ate it like you liked it.

So good, why didn't you give some of it to the cat?

He have to have special cat's meat?

It's good enough for me, it's good enough for him.

No. You've got it all wrong.

What's good enough for me ain't good enough for him?

I'll kick that cat from here to Gibraltar and back!

Oh, Clinton, you're so hasty.

The day I got the cat meat

was the day we had baked beans.

There wasn't anything else left in the house.

You can't feed a dumb animal beans.

I don't know what's so dumb about him.

Don't do no work,

got a fair-to-middling place to live,

upwards of 3 to 4 square meals a day.

I wish to jiggers I was a cat!

What was we doing with four tangerines?

Well, now, Clinton, the child took one a day

to high school in her box of lunch.

Well, couldn't she just take a orange

like any other ordinary...

or is that too big a piece of fruit

for her to lug with that weak back?

Dribble, dribble, dribble.

Well, that's where the money goes.

The Mellins Food pays me 37.50 a week.

You got me living like I was W. K. Cottington

sitting at a roll-top mahogany desk.

Clinton, saying you live like Mr. Cottington...

Don't forget, I got to pay something

on Dr. Adams' bill.

On the 23rd, the Mutual premium comes due.

I'd like to go to sleep and wake up on April 24th.

Clinton, what a way to talk.

Why, suppose that premium slid?

What would Ruth and I do if anything happened to you?

I guess you wouldn't starve.

I'd like to know why we wouldn't.

You'd be stuffed so full of the food

I buy you from S.S. Purse and Backus grocery.

That's why you wouldn't.

Don't forget. Besides the $37.50,

there's your bonus.

Can't count on a bonus till you got it in your hand.

A man has to grovel and curtsy 364 days a year,

then on the 365th,

say something wrong to old Cottington,

and there goes the bonus.

Oh, well. I guess money isn't everything.

No, no, no, but poverty is.

It's everything in my whole world.

Clinton, you can't call us poverty.

Yes, I can too. I even know the color of it.

It's a dirty rotten brown.

It's everywhere I go.

Every minute of my...

it's in my eyes, my nose, my ears, my feet.

It's on the front walk when I come home at night.

It's in this dog-eared,

borrowed-from-the-neighbors magazine!

Clinton, you're just crazy.

Yes, I'm crazy. I'm crazy because I'm poor.

Just seems like there's nothing I can afford.

Just nothing. Not one blasted nothing.

I can't even afford to catch cold.

Old Swolman up on the hill wants to have a cold,

he can have one seven days a week if he wants to.

Can't even sit on the furniture,

especially that stuff in the parlor.

Whenever I sit, I sit real careful like

because I'm afraid I might spoil it, and...

and I buy the New England Gazette.

I'd like to buy the Scientific American,

but I buy the New England Gazette.

You know why I buy it?

Because it costs a measly 5 cents, and the other...

what's the use?

I got the brains and the inclination.

I just haven't got the 35 sou,

that's all.

Live on hash and stew

and Louisiana cat meat, for all I know,

when I got a taste for oysters and curry

the way they used to fix them in Bombay.

Bird's Nest Soup

the way that little french girl used to make it

in Wiscasset when I went with Fred Gee that time.

And rich custard apple

they almost give away for nothing in Mozambique.

I don't know what to do, Clinton.

I really don't.

Don't bother. I'm going out.

Oh, Clinton.

Don't do anything rash, for all our sake.

Nothing rash in going out and laying down

on the New York, New Haven tracks.

Clinton, you wouldn't!

I'm going to take that cat with me.

Look at him. Got himself on the register again.

Scientific wonder to me he ain't fricasseed.

Come on, now. Out from under there.

Oh!

Oh, you bad cat!

Oh, you...

I'll wash it off with saltwater, dear,

extra strong.

That's my own blood.

You thankless cat. Aren't you ashamed?

Get the cat's answer later, will you?

I don't propose to stand here till gangrene sets in!

Hey!

Where's the fire?

Where's the fire?

What? I just got a letter from...

Oh, see you.

Oh, excuse me!

Anna, she sent it! Her picture!

Who?

Hazel! Hazel Dawn!

Oh!

Oh, let me see!

I didn't even open it.

Think of it, Anna.

Just think of it!

Anna, just think of it!

Oh, I may die!

Oh, isn't it beautiful?

Oh, I certainly am the happiest thing.

It's from the Touraine Hotel,

Boston, Mass.

And I wrote, too, but she didn't send mine.

Oh, things happen to me...

the greatest in the whole world!

This has to mean... it has to!

I was meant to be an actress,

or else why didn't she send one to you?

No matter what happens...

Look. I'm taking a vow unto myself

on this picture.

I am going to be somebody wonderful

like you'll read about,

and nobody can stop me,

not even my own family.

Say, for a minute, you looked different.

I'm going to live in some gorgeous place

like the Touraine Hotel

or some other gorgeous place just as good,

and I'm going to have Mama and Papa

be living up on a hill with a hired girl

and a thoroughbred fox terrier.

I'm going to run up terrible grocery bills

and never look at the price, and...

oh, I'm going to get everything great

for everybody! It's disgusting

to live just to support yourself.

I have to fly and tell Katherine.

She'll die!

Ooh, how are you?

Sick.

Oh, good... -

I mean, that's a shame.

See, now, there's Pernambuco

right up that channel.

Move that whale's tooth.

See, right there.

And it's pernambuco, too.

I don't give a snap

what they say at Quincy High School.

It's not per nam buco.

That's how they say it. They ought to know.

Now, go right up... what was that?

Just Ruth leaving for the Braintree dance.

Fred Whitmarsh called to take her.

Oh, well!

Here I was learning her

something of some real value.

Something that everybody don't know, too.

I know.

And that certainly brings up a point.

What she knows, you could put in a frog's ear.

She don't know beans when the bag's untied.

What's she aiming at, anyway? Anything?

She's young.

She's not that young.

If anything was to happen to me,

what would she do?

Took her a year to make a buttonhole.

I'm not too sure that, if called on,

she could correctly boil an egg.

Ruth's deep.

She may be striving...

What could she do?

Just supposing I was laid out

up at Fay's Undertaking establishment.

What could Ruth draw down?

Oh, dear, don't be morbid.

What could she? Tell me.

After you've driven behind me

up to Mount Wollaston cemetery

and was back here fixing your supper,

what would the plan be?

Just let me in on it.

Laying out under them wilted posies,

I might be kind of curious.

I don't know.

Go on. Spout it out.

I suppose she could do any one of a hundred things.

Don't name me a hundred. Just name me one.

Name me one man, woman, or child

who would be hard-enough put to employ her.

Clinton, you're nervous. I...

Don't worry about me.

I'm put away for the time being.

Let's start with something

that's even colder than I'll be... fundamentals.

Now, come on. Be frank.

Can she thread a needle?

Well, of course.

After all, Clinton, it'd be only normal

for her to get married.

Did you ever think of that?

Fred's very sweet on her.

All right. Suppose she marries Fred.

Now suppose he's passed on, too,

and laying next to me up there at Fay's.

Now we're both laid.

It's quite a field day for Fay, by the way.

Both of us laying up there nice and cozy.

What's she going to do now?

You know, a woman should be independent,

and one way to be independent

is learn how to earn your own keep.

Now, I got one plan,

if I could just swing the education end,

and that's the Boston Physical Culture Schooll

for her after she gets through high school.

Why on earth the Boston Physical...

to prepare Ruth to go out and earn her bread

as a physical instructress.

But it's a very expensive outfit,

and I don't want to get her hopes up

until I'm sure I can see my way clear to.

But her dancing days have to be over someday.

She can't go hopscotching around

in Cochato Hall forever.

She better start worrying.

Thank you, Mrs. Hinkelman.

You know what i was imagining?

You and I dancing on a stage

and a million people staring and applauding.

Hooray for us.

Oh, listen. It's mine.

What is?

The music.

The Pink Lady Waltz?

It's what I'm going to be, Fred.

What, a waltzer?

An actress.

No kidding. You really are?

Shh. But it's a secret only for you, Fred.

I threw caution to the wind because...

because you appeal to me.

I do?

Fred, dance this like we were alone

on a vast, vast stage!

You're full of the dickens tonight.

♪ Fly, fly, beautiful lady ♪

♪ On light, bright wings ♪

♪ While the rapture of music ♪

♪ Around us swings ♪

15-2, 15-4, 15-6, and a run of...

Shh, Clinton. They'll hear you.

Hear me what?

Ruth, go see who's at the door.

If it's anyone, they can't stay long. It's 9:00.

You say it's 9:00

because you like to say 9:00.

It ain't 9:00 yet.

Ruth, pull down your skirt. It shows you lack poise.

Oh, Mama, please.

It's just Anna Witham and Katherine Follett.

Oh, hello, Mrs. Jones.

Hello.

Come stand by the sideboard.

The register will warm you up.

Don't stand by the register

if you've got cold feet.

No, you'll get chilblains.

If your feet are cold,

never stand near a fire.

Stick them in ice water.

Mr. Jones, I don't get chilblains.

I stand by the register all the time.

We have to do Latin, Mama.

Chilblains are an awful thing.

I remember one winter,

we was heading into Halifax.

December, it was. December takes

a bigger toll on vessels...

Papa, no one's got chilblains.

No, but they will have

if they stand near a register,

get their feet wet with snow,

and chilblains can be an awful thing.

Chilblains not only attacks the feet,

you know. It sometimes attacks

the nose and the ears as well.

Awful thing.

I remember one winter we was headed

through the northern straits

aboard a vessel answering to

The New Star of Malta.

That was the first voyage out

I had my spyglass.

You might take a look at her, girls.

She standing there on the sideboard.

Come along, girls. Come along.

Here she is.

Bought her one time

when we was taking on cargo in Liverpool.

Good as she ever was.

Greatest glass to be had for the money.

Uh-huh.

Lenses ground by Karl Rosch in Hamburg.

I set great store by this glass.

Mmm.

If you ever have occasion...

Mama, we got lots of studying to do.

Go on upstairs, now.

Don't make the port of Halifax in the wintertime

if you can make other arrangements, Katherine.

Shut the door after you, now,

so as not to be disturbing.

Goodness, Ruthie, your father!

Hee hee!

What's the assignment, Katherine?

Didn't you take it down?

No. I thought you did.

Anna, you never do anything for yourself.

Oh, there it is!

Oh!

I don't want Papa to hear.

Why not?

He'll kill me.

Why?

Because it cost 35 cents.

When do you think you're ever going to tell him?

Tell him what?

About going on the stage.

Why? Wouldn't he want you to?

Oh, he'd kill her.

Oh, Mr. Jones has a terrible disposition.

♪ To you, beautiful lady ♪

♪ I raise my eyes ♪

♪ My heart, beautiful lady ♪

♪ To your heart sighs ♪

♪ Dream, dream, dream and forget ♪

♪ Care, pain, useless regret ♪

♪ Let the river flow down to the sea ♪

♪ Bright sea, bring my loved one home to me ♪

♪ True, dear one, true ♪

♪ I'm trying hard to be ♪

♪ But hear me say ♪

♪ It's a very long, long way ♪

♪ From the banks of the Seine for a girl to go and stay ♪

♪ By the banks of the Saskatchewan ♪

dDo you have to sing out your lessons?

You know, education is denied to most people.

Treat it with some respect.

Given your opportun...

The Theatre magazine?

Where did you get this?

It's nothing. I just happened...

35 cen...

did you get stung 35 cents for this thing?

No.

Well, it didn't hop out of the woodwork, did it?

Well, it's Katherine's. I borrowed it.

Oh. Well, stow it away. Get to work.

Gosh.

Excuse my saying it was yours.

Oh, you had to.

Oh, that's all right.

You can't ever tell him

you're going to be an actress.

Well, I'm practically an actress already.

What, Ruth?

Well, I wasn't going to tell anyone, but look.

What is it?

A letter from Hazel Dawn.

Oh, Ruth!

Inviting me to come and see her

behind the scenes!

Oh, Ruth!

I wrote her the night I got her picture

telling her how great it was

and how I intend to become an actress

and could she let me know

how about start going on the stage myself.

Don't touch it!

I'm going to get it framed.

Well, hurry!

It's like reading Dreambook magazine.

"Colonial Theatre, Boylston Street, Boston, Mass.

March 9. Dear Miss Jones..."

no, no, no. Read it slowly.

All right.

"Colonial Theatre, Boylston Street, Boston, Mass.

"March 9.

Dear Miss Jones."

Oh!

"Thank you for your letter.

"I think it is fine

"that you want to be an actress if you...

"If you want to be an actress.

"If you come to the matinee on Wednesday,

"perhaps you would like to come

"to my dressing room before it

and talk to me"!

Oh! Oh!

Wait. I didn't finish!

"Sincerely yours,

Hazel Dawn."

Oh!

Oh, she must be beautiful.

Does it seem as though a thing like that

could happen to anyone in Wollaston?

Oh, but, Ruth,

Wednesday's a school day.

Well, I'll say I'm sick.

I'll say I have a headache.

Miss O'neill will never let you go home for that.

Well, then, I'll throw up.

Oh, that will be wonderful!

What do you think you'll wear?

My new red tango colored dress.

Some of it's only basted,

but it's the only thing stylish I've got.

Oh, you'll look stunning!

Will you do your hair any different?

Ruth, Ruth, do it like Hazel Dawn.

Let me try. Come on.

I'll hold up the picture for you.

I look funny.

You do not. You'll look darling

with your hair like Hazel Dawn.

I don't mean my hair. I mean all over.

Oh, you don't, either.

You know what

Clark Bookton told Gladys Bain.

Oh, Katherine.

If you tell that...

oh, go on. What'd he say?

You went and told Anna

I was crazy about Herbert Mann.

Oh, well, that's nothing.

Clark Bookton went and told Gladys Bain

Ruth had a cute shape.

Oh, Katherine!

Oh, why, that's repulsive!

Your father calling for you?

Perish the thought.

We got to go anyway.

Now, who's that, do you suppose?

Well, now it's 9:00, Clinton. There's the curfew.

Ruth, go see who's at the door, will you?

Who is it?

Oh, hello.

Hello.

It's 9:00.

Who is it, Ruth?

Who'd you say it was?

Why, Fred, you're out late.

It's just Fred Whitmarsh.

What happened? What happened?

I saw your light on,

so I knew

you were still sitting up.

We're not sitting up long,

but you can come in for a minute.

Thought you was at Harvard College.

Oh, I am,

but tonight's my sister's birthday,

so we had a little shindig.

Oh. Well...

Good Night, Fred.

Good night, Ruth. Good night, Fred.

Good night.

Good night, Ruth!

Oh, take your coat off.

Thank you.

You think Latin trains your bean?

I forgot it already.

Sure, but while you remember it,

it's supposed to be quite instructive.

Here, Punk! Here, Punky Punk!

In back of the stove.

Uh... Latin never seemed to be

about anything.

They were all kind of bughouse...

Caesar and Cicero, what's-his-name.

Oh, sure.

Come here, Punky.

Come in here, Fred.

Ever read Ben Hur?

In Latin?

No. Just in a book.

He's gone and got himself

wedged in behind the boiler.

Come on out of there, worse-than-useless!

B-b-Ben Hur was a Roman

like those others,

but it was a good book, at least.

You should go out.

Ruth, you put him out.

Oh, Mama, now I'll get all the fur.

His fur doesn't come out in March.

Don't be so notional.

Punk's just like me. Doesn't like cold weather.

Cats are quite a lot of trouble.

Punk would just as well as not stay right here all night,

but he gets up on the piano in the parlor

and eats my Boston Fern.

He does?

Mama, do you have to do that now?

I should think I did.

Look what time it is.

Papa and I have to go to bed.

Oh, Mama...

Fred doesn't mind my saying that.

I mean, do you have to do that

with the silver?

Well, of course I do. This is solid silver.

I can't leave it lying around.

Mr. Edward F. Atkins gave me these

for a wedding present.

I was his stenographer.

Secretary, Mama.

I'd been his... secretary for three years,

and the day I left to get married,

his wife, Mrs. Atkins,

came all the way in from Hopedale

and gave me these.

They're from Preston Hoyt, the Boston jeweler.

And she said, "I just want to tell you

"how much Mr. Atkins is going to mind losing you

"because I know Mr. Atkins

is never going to tell you so himself."

Mama, Fred isn't...

Well, I don't suppose he is,

but I can't leave things like this lying around

for anyone to walk in, help themselves to.

They go right in this box under my bed.

After I'm gone and they belong to you,

you can do with as you see fit.

There's Punk. Put him in the cellar.

Oh, Punk.

Good night.

Good night, sir.

Papa said good night, Ruth.

Good night.

Oh, Mama, please.

Good night, Fred.

Don't stay up all night, Ruth.

Be in bed by 9:30,

and you come again, Fred.

Bear in mind you'll be up late Friday.

We're attending the YMCU gymnastic exhibition.

I don't like to boast,

but Mr. Jones is appearing.

When you get through with it,

turn out the light!

Thank you. I mean, good night.

Good night.

Well, you want to go into the parlor?

I... I dropped by because...

Oh, Clinton!

Uh... uh, what?

Oh, Clinton!

Did you sing out?

The alarm clock says 9:07. Is that right?

Close enough!

A little noisy in here.

Do you want to go into the kitchen,

maybe make some cocoa?

Perish the thought.

Oh. Well, let's see...

Why, Clinton, are you going to take a bath?

No, just testing her out

to see that the pipes haven't froze.

Oh, if you don't feel like cocoa,

maybe we could... oh, the front porch

would be kind of cold, I guess.

Yeah.

Didn't your par...

Didn't your parlor ever have a door?

Let me know when you're through, Clinton.

I want to come in.

Take a walk maybe?

All right. Come ahead.

I thought we could talk better if...

The only thing is,

the kitchen maybe has a door to close.

No, Fred, no.

I'm not ever going in the kitchen...

that is, not ever with a fellow.

It's nothing against you, Fred, or like that,

but even if it was President Taft asking,

I wouldn't go in the kitchen with him.

President Taft's married.

I can't help it.

Oh, well, anyway,

what I came to ask you about

and the reason I came to ask you tonight is

that the Harvard Class Day Invitations Committee

got elected today,

and, well, I'm on the committee, so...

you are?

So would you go

to Harvard Class Day with me?

Fred, did you really say it?

It's going to...

what?

Harvard Class Day.

You know sometimes

how you get to thinking about things

and how no fellow

will ever send you flowers or take you

to the Harvard and Yale football game

or ask you...

well, I'd just as soon say it...

ask you to get married.

Look, I really never did think

that anyone would ever,

so long as I lived,

ask me to Class Day at Harvard College.

Here I am, and I did get invited.

Has he gone yet?

Oh, look, Fred, I guess...

I say, has he gone yet?

I'll drop back tomorrow.

Uh-huh. Only go now!

Better put my collar up.

It's getting cold out to Cambridge.

Don't know if it will or not...

Charles River might freeze over.

Good night.

Good night, Clinton.

Say, have you heard that new dance?

Out to Cambridge,

everybody's dippy about it.

Here... let me show you.

Um...

da da da

da da da da

da da da da da da da da da da

da da da da da da da da

da da da da da da da

da da da da da da da

da da da da da

da da da

da da da da da da da da da

da da da da da da da

What's the matter with that galoot,

making that infernal racket

in the middle of the night?

Doesn't he know when to go home?

Look, Fred, you've got to go!

Oh, don't!

Ohh...

♪ Mm-m, you ♪

♪ Beautiful lady ♪

♪ I raise my eyes ♪

♪ My heart, beautiful lady ♪

♪ To your heart sighs ♪

♪ Come, come, beautiful lady ♪

♪ To paradise ♪

♪ Ere the sweet, sweet waltz dream dies ♪

Why, we're here in lovely time!

I was just going to drop by your place.

How do, Mr. Mcgrath?

Ruth and I are going into Boston

to attend Mr. Jones' gymnastic exhibition.

What happened to you?

You got a telegram.

Why, I did not. Let me see it.

I hope it's nothing dreadful.

It's good your Mama's right by.

Oh, Mama.

Oh, Fred, well...

my knees are shaking.

I kind of wish we were home.

Doesn't seem appropriate,

opening up a telegram

right here on the station platform.

Is it bad news?

I don't know. I never got a telegram before.

Now, Ruth, don't get excited.

I once knew a girl who had a telegram...

oh, mercy. Oh!

What on earth is it?

Mama, it's a telegram

for me to go on the stage!

Oh, darn, I left my glasses at home.

What?

From Hazel Dawn!

Inviting you to become an actress?

Just as good as!

Telling me Mr. John Craig will see me in his office

tomorrow, Saturday, at 2:30 p. m.

Oh, Mama!

Oh, child!

Oh, good night.

Oh, Mama, tomorrow, Saturday, 2:30 p. m.,

I might be an actress!

Oh, Ruth, don't say such a thing.

You know your father's disposition.

Why, if he found out you were going calling

on Mr. John Craig,

to say nothing of Miss Hazel Dawn,

I don't know what he'd do!

You know how he threw around

those cantaloupes

when all I said

was I wish they were peaches.

If he finds out about all this,

goodness knows what he'll throw around!

Of all the people in the world to choose from,

Mr. John Craig went and chose me.

Well, so did I.

What?

Choose you.

Mercy, here it comes.

Ruth, put that darn thing away.

Good-bye, Fred. Thank you.

Now drive careful

so as not to have an accident.

Oh, I don't care if I do, Mrs. Jones.

Please don't talk like that.

God will hear you.

I don't care if he does, Mrs. Jones.

Well, good-bye, Fred.

I'll let you know about Class Day.

Honest I will.

Excuse me.

I'm sorry.

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

Ruth, pay attention to the exhibition

and stop peeking at that darned telegram.

You swore three times tonight.

Ladies and gentlemen,

the next treat will be The Variety Show

by our married men's group.

The exercises will be accompanied on the piano by...

on the piano by Mrs. Clara Howe

of the Waltham First Methodist church.

Mama, please.

Oh, my!

Look at that old fella go!

Where?

Right there. You see him?

The old fella in the swimming suit!

Ha ha ha!

Did you see him? The old fella!

Huh!

Oh!

Oh!

Oh, don't, Clinton. Don't, don't, don't!

Oh!

Has he done it yet?

He's done more than do it.

That was a corker!

Did you see him lose his britches?

Isn't that dangerous?

I must remember to fix those.

Now, wasn't that enjoyable?

I wish I was dead.

Ladies and gentlemen,

we now come to the distaff side.

Miss Emma Glavey will lead her group

in an Indian Club drill

as practiced in the scandinavian countries.

This is the part Papa wants you to watch.

I'm watching.

Watch Miss Glavey. She's the best.

I may throw up.

Look at her sweating

right in front of everybody.

Well, maybe so does Hazel Dawn.

Mama!

Pardon me. Excuse me.

Clinton.

Ain't this some night?

Oh, you were remarkable! Truly!

Hey, yeah, there's Miss Glavey.

Keep your eye peeled for her, now.

Yay!

Good girl!

Papa, please!

Oh, it's all right.

She's just like one of the family!

That Miss Glavey, ain't she a daisy?

I liked the cut of her jib

the minute I seen her.

Come on.

Let's get going on the application.

Clinton, couldn't we just wait until morning?

Now, Mama, come on. Sleep ain't vital.

We got a daughter going to enroll

in the Boston Physical Culture School.

Cast anchor here, snuggy.

Oh, uh... Clinton...

Now, now, now, now, now.

Name.

Name of Ruth Gordon Jones.

Ruth.

Age.

17.

Uh, Clinton, 17 is very young to be...

Date of birth.

Date of birth.

October 13, 1896.

Sex.

Female.

Female.

Uh... weight.

Weight.

What do you... well, I guess...

you'd shift the scale about 115

with all your duds on.

115.

Uh, Clinton.

Weight. Height.

Height. Height.

5 feet, 4.

5 feet, 4 in.

Past schooling.

Past...

Oh. Wollaston Grammar School

and Quincy High School.

Quincy high school.

Now, sports in which you excel.

Sports in which you excel.

Which sports in which you excel?

Clinton, Ruth is upset.

What about?

Well, she doesn't want to be

a Physical Culture teacher.

Why not?

Well... well, some people

get inspired over some things,

and others over others.

You got inspired to be a sailor,

not a carpenter

like you said your father was.

Well, just what do you think

you're inspired over?

I don't know.

Why, yes, you do, too, Ruth.

You tell Papa.

I don't want to be

a Physical Culture teacher.

What do you want to do?

Tell Papa, Ruth. He wants to know.

I don't want to be

a Physical Culture instructress.

Well, why don't you?

Because I'd rather be dead.

Don't say that, Ruth. God will hear you.

God's listening to everybody.

I know, I know,

but I'm just listening to her.

Why? Why?

I have to do my homework.

Why, no, you don't.

Ruth!

Well...

oh, don't stand there like a dying cat.

If you got something to say, come on.

Spit it out.

I want to go on the stage.

Well, what makes you think

you got the stuff it takes?

I don't know.

What give you the idea?

Well, there's a chance.

I wish I could be like you want me to be,

but it's like if you asked me to be a giant,

and I'm not a giant,

and I'm not a Physical Culture person, either.

What makes you think you're an actress?

She's not statuesque, of course,

but she looks all right

when she remembers to stand up straight.

When she smiles

and doesn't look like a thundercloud,

Ruth can be very appealing.

She has all sorts of artistic leanings,

and, mercy, I guess some things

you just got to trust in the lord.

I know, but when you get up at meetings,

you got to deliver the goods, too.

I know that from being an audience.

I seen actors and actresses all my life,

pretty nearly.

But I never seen nobody look like you.

I ain't denying

that I always enjoyed the theater.

Whenever my ship was in port,

I always went to whatever attraction was playing.

I been in some places

I wouldn't ask no lady to accompany me,

but I seen the best, too.

I seen Booth and Barrett, Majeska.

I seen lotta.

Once when my ship was laying in Frisco,

I even went over and served as a stagehand

so I could see her close, too.

Fine woman, everybody that was

associated with her told me,

and I certainly didn't see nothing

that led me to believe any different,

but she or none of them looked like you.

Papa, I didn't know

you ever worked in a theater.

I did it another time, too.

I went over and shoved stuff around

for Mr. Booth one time.

His first wife lays buried

right over here at Dorchester.

Oh, I guess there are decent people

on the stage,

same as anywhere else.

I ain't objecting to it from that end.

Maude Adams they say is very lovely,

but would you say she seemed actressy?

Papa, please don't make up

your mind against me.

Would you just please give me a chance?

I got something I can recite to you.

I'll do one comical anone tragical.

Mama, you sit over here by Papa,

and, Papa, pull your chair up

so it will look more like a theater.

Well, uh...

maybe I better do it on the landing

so it will look more like a stage.

Make... make me a willow cabin at your gate

and call upon my soul within the house.

Write loyal cantons of contemned love

and sing them loud even in the dead of night.

Halloo thy name to the reverberate hills

and make the babbling gossip of the air

cry out "Olivia!"

Uh, hold on.

Hold on just a minute, uh...

is this the comical one or the tragical?

Well, that was comical, P-Papa,

but I guess it didn't sound so.

Maybe I'll do a song.

♪ Da da da dum dum dum ♪

♪ Oh, bring along the camera ♪

♪ Fetch along the camera ♪

♪ Don't have any doubt about it ♪

♪ Hurry... ♪

♪ Hurry up the camera ♪

♪ Got to have the camera ♪

♪ Can't do anything without it ♪

♪ When I think, when I talk ♪

♪ When I drink, when I walk ♪

♪ If you want to catch it all in total ♪

♪ You must be on the spot ♪

♪ And of me take a shot ♪

♪ For everything I do is worth a photo ♪

Well, uh... uh...

You think you could be heard?

Well, I can do it louder.

♪ Oh, bring along the camera ♪

♪ Fetch along the camera ♪

Don't have any doubt a...

You can be heard all right,

but, uh...

Do you think folks

would shell out money to see it?

When I think, when I talk

when...

I can learn it if anybody will teach me!

Hazel Dawn says that Mr. John Craig

is a very wonderful director...

Hazel Dawn? When did all this take place?

Wednesday afternoon, Papa.

Well, what happened?

She said the best thing to do

was to get a job and begin acting.

That way, I could get experience right away.

This was before she talked to her friend

Mr. John Craig, of course.

She said if I went to New York to do it,

I should stay at a place there

called the Three Arts Club.

It's like the YMCA.

YW, Mama.

Oh, Ruth, how could you

go out nights to Castle Square?

Why, girls go out of their front doors

and disappear somewheres

every day of the week.

I'll be careful, Mama.

People offering them poisoned candy

and saying they'll show them how

to find their way.

Don't ever inquire how

to get somewheres

from anyone but a policeman, Ruth.

It isn't only men

you have to worry about.

Women are worse than men.

Girls can disappear, never be seen again,

and end up ashamed all their life

in Rio where Papa's been.

"Where Papa's been."

I ain't worried about that, Ann.

Ruth ain't gonna be hauled off for no concubine.

Mama, I guess I can look after myself.

The other day when that man pinched me,

what did I do?

What man?

In Boston, a man on Tremont Street.

What man on Tremont Street?

I'll kick him from here to Gibraltar!

Never mind, Clinton. He's gone now.

Have a glass of root beer.

You know, as a physical instructor,

you'd lead a normal life.

As a actress, you know,

you're going to be heading out

on a pretty rough voyage.

Dear, no one has the problems we do.

Why, Mr. Craig might want you

to commence acting right away.

Well, I will, then.

You mean not finish your schooling?

Have some root beer.

But, Papa, every minute counts.

Maude Adams started

when she was only 6 weeks old,

and here am I going on 17.

Education is something you can't afford not to have.

You have it.

I got my education practically.

There's only a few months more.

But then you'd graduate!

So, what's that?

They give you an old diploma.

I'll have it myself.

What's that, for heaven's sakes?

Nobody cares whether Ethel Barrymore

or Booth or Lotta got an old diploma.

Now, you listen to me,

and I'm not going to argue with you.

I'm laying down the law. You finish your schooling.

It ain't as if schooling was something you could leave

and then go back to.

You can't do that. I found that out.

I left at sea when I was 18 years old,

went up to Elmira and got a room in the Rathwell House,

spent the whole winter trying to pick up some learning.

I was a ship's mate.

I had made several voyages,

twice around the world.

Do you know where they put me in school in Elmira?

In the fourth grade.

Papa, education meant something to you.

I got all I need.

I can't pick and choose my chance.

Whatever Mr. John Craig says do, then I got to.

Your chance will come later

when you're better equipped for it.

Now, you get word to John Craig

you're not available for any offers.

Now get the cat out and batten down the hatches

and go to bed.

Papa, I never stood up to you before,

but this time I have to!

You can hit me or anything!

I got a right to my opportunity!

I'm affording you the luxury of a education.

Don't treat that luxury too lightly.

You know I could send you down

to Houghton and Dutton's tomorrow

and make you go to work behind the counter.

Instead of that, I'm choosing to educate you.

Your mother and I are choosing to do without

so you can have an education.

Now, you respect our efforts a little bit

and hold up your end of the obligation.

But, Papa, you don't underst...

Oh, Papa!

Hurry up, Punk.

Oh, Mama!

Now, just don't start raging around.

Just be grateful he didn't put his foot down

on your being an actress at all.

Why, what's this?

Oh, some old candy. Oh, Mama!

From Fred?

Yes.

Oh, Ruth, why couldn't you forget

all about this being an actress

and settle down with some good man?

Oh, please, don't be disgusting!

Oh, dear, you had to go and be so different.

Oh, Mama, when 2:30 comes tomorrow afternoon,

I'll never live through it!

Oh, yes, you will.

Douse the glim.

Don't be chewing the rag all night.

Electric light costs money.

I'll go raving mad, Mama.

If I knew one single man

that wanted a mistress,

I'd go in Boston and be kept!

Oh, dear.

I suppose it's no use asking you

because you know all about everything,

but for the last time

before I turn out this light,

would you, just for all our sakes,

please consider being normal?

I won't even answer it, Clinton,

and I'll have the telephone company

come take it out

first thing tomorrow morning.

Tomorrow's sunday.

Well, Monday, then.

So please don't be depressed anymore.

Is it that you're still upset

about Ruth last night?

Where is she?

Up to Katherine Follett's.

Clinton.

Hmm.

Don't feel bad by yourself.

Word went around the shipping room yesterday

Dan Weymouth is leaving.

Word is, Dan's going to retire.

You mean he's quitting and he wants to?

Who knows?

But if they're making him retire and take a pension,

then the question is,

where is the ax going to fall next?

Oh, Clinton.

If I was just sure that Dan was retiring

of his own accord and his own free will,

then it would be all right...

all right for Dan, that is.

But suppose they should ask me to do the same thing?

The only answer I got is to go out there and lay down

on the New York, New Haven Railroad tracks.

Clinton. What about the other men?

Are any of them leaving, too?

Here I've been worrying about my bonus.

It ain't even due until july,

if they decide to give it to me.

Turns out I got a lot more than my bonus to worry about...

Got my whole job!

Clinton, won't you please, just to make me happy,

call Dan on our telephone

and see what he personally has to say?

We could get rid of it tomorrow,

but couldn't it be useful today?

Why do they call this Elmwood Avenue?

It's full of Maple trees!

Clinton.

All right.

Uh... here's Dan's number, just back of my thumb.

What is it?

Ashmont 271, party J.

I said I'd never use this telephone,

and now here I am using it.

What is it again?

Ashmont 271, party J.

How do?

Uh... I'd like to telephone to, uh...

Ashmont...

2...

71...

71, party J.

That's right.

She heard me, all right.

You have a fine speaking voice.

Hello. Hello, that you, Dan?

Oh, that you, Fan?

Oh. Ah... this is Clinton Jones.

Clinton Jones.

I'm telephoning you from Wollaston.

From Wollaston!

From Wollaston, where I live!

That's right.

Can you hear me all right?

Oh, I can hear you fine.

I'm telephoning, Fan,

because I would like to speak to your father...

That is, if it's convenient.

Oh?

Oh. Ah... ah...

Well, when is he likely to be coming back home?

Ah... well, I... I...

I don't want to put him to no trouble,

but it is a little urgent.

Oh, he can telephone me back here

as late as he has a mind to.

That's right.

All right, Fan.

If you're ready,

I'll hang up my end now.

When's Dan coming back? Did she say?

Who knows? He's at a lodge meeting,

and I've spent a nickel.

That seems like a good sign.

A man wouldn't go to a lodge meeting

who'd just been laid off on a pension.

I guess if you go to lodge meetings,

you go under all conditions.

Uh... uh... uh...

that'll be Dan.

Hello. This is Jones.

Who?

Who? This ear-busting thing

is going to be a nuisance like I said it...

they'll hear you.

Hello!

Well, if she wants to say something,

tell her to walk over and say it!

Who is it?

I don't know. Some flibbertigibbet.

I can't...

Hello? Anna?

Oh, this is Ruth's mother.

Uh, yes.

Ruth's over to Katherine Follett's.

She isn't?

Oh. Well, then I don't know where she is.

Well, she's not at Katherine Follett's.

Where is she?

Good-bye.

She and Katherine probably went out for a walk.

Oh, lands!

Shut up! I mean, excuse me.

It's just me, I mean,

so you don't have to throw a fit.

Excuse me for making you jump.

It's just that Mama got me so worked up

telling me about...

Fred, look.

It's a stage door, and I'm going through it.

Fred, tell me something.

Will you tell me the gospel truth

even if it kills you?

Do I look terribly short to you?

What?

Listen, I came here to talk to you

about something... something serious.

Would you marry me?

I mean, will you,

because I don't think you look short at all.

I think you look wonderful.

Why, Fred!

Why, Fred Whitmarsh!

Did you propose to me? Did you?

I know you're bound and determined

to be an actress.

Just the way you want to be an actress,

that's how much I want you to...

that's how I...

darn it all,

I know I'm going all around Nantasket

by way of Scituate Beach,

but... well, you see,

I never said this to anyone before,

and I don't know how to

so it doesn't sound slushy, but...

I love you.

So I mean it. I'm asking you to marry me,

but of course I know I left a lot of it out, but...

Gee, Fred.

That wasn't slushy at all.

It was beautiful.

It was just...

Well, here I was walking along here,

scared out of my boots, kind of,

and all of a sudden,

you make me feel like somebody great.

Oh, I'll never forget you, Fred.

Here, I...

I brought you something.

A real diamond?

Why, Fred Whitmarsh!

A solitaire, the man called it.

It sparkles so!

It's the most gorgeous...

Oh, Fred, could I wear it

just to go see Mr. John Craig?

It's yours to wear forever,

and I love you,

and I want to look after you,

and I can, because...

Gee, I'm a mess.

You know what I am? I'm a kind of a whore.

You are not.

I am so. Well, how can you like me?

See how selfish I am?

Just wanting to take your ring

so I could go make a splash in front of Mr. John Craig.

Take it, Fred, and don't waste it,

because that's all it will be giving it to me,

a perfect whore.

Fred, if I was going to marry anyone,

I'd pick you,

but I can't,

and you're lucky I can't, Fred.

All my life, I'll remember

that I didn't have to be an old maid

because you went and asked me.

No matter how it looks,

I'll know I didn't get left.

Say a prayer for me, Fred.

I'm going through that door,

and behind it is my whole life,

all depending on Mr. John Craig.

From an actress, almost.

Here. Occupy yourself till Dan calls.

It will help pass the time.

Look at this I found in my library book.

It's an old valentine

someone must have used for a bookmark.

It says February 14, 1899

from Sue to little May.

Someone must have forgot it

when they brought the book back to the library.

What's so interesting about a valentine?

Well, a valentine means something to most people,

but you're so unsentimental.

Why am i?

You'd never think of sending a valentine.

Certainly wouldn't think

of sending an old thing like that.

Went out and got one once, set me back $25.

$25? Clinton!

Or the equivalent.

Why do you suppose Ruth ain't content

to stay home just once in a while?

Why, Clinton, do you mean to say

you spent 25 whole dollars

for just nothing but a valentine?

What I said.

Certainly felt ashamed

when I had to go out and tell them

at the Boston Physical Culture Schoolll

that Ruth didn't know her own mind

for two minutes.

Clinton Jones!

Why, for pity's sakes,

what on earth was it made of?

You sure she notified this Craig fellow

she wasn't coming there, neither?

Clinton, I asked you something.

Why?

I asked you what was it made of.

It was made of silk and lace and roses...

How do I know what it was made of?

Clinton, you never told me that.

Well, subject never come up before.

Dan don't call pretty soon,

I got a good notion

to walk on over there.

Who did you buy it for?

I bought it for a lady

that run a boardinghouse in Le Havre, France,

where my ship was tied up taking on gear one time

and from where I went up to Paris to spend the day.

This only happened to me 30 years ago.

Somehow it don't seem so vital

as why Ruth is gallivant...

Call up the Folletts.

I want to find out where she is.

What on earth was her name?

I may not have a job, for all you know,

and the only thing you're interested...

her name was Madame Lynch!

Well, mercy, I don't think that's very nice.

Well, she ran a good boardinghouse

in Le Havre, France, and her name was Lynch.

It was Lynch!

Quincy 991-n.

Oh, I wasn't talking about your friend, Clinton.

I mean, I don't think it's nice to shout!

You see, I can't help being interested.

Did all the sailors

fling their money around like that?

I don't know.

After all, I was only the second mate, you know,

not the father confessor.

Oh, hello, Katherine.

Is Ruth there?

Oh?

Well, do you know where she went to?

Oh?

Well, she's probably up to Anna's.

Good-bye.

Well, Clinton,

I must say I didn't know

you had that side to your nature.

There are a lot of things about me you don't know.

Ever know I wore gold hoop earrings?

Wore a sash around my middle instead of a belt?

Didn't like the name of Clinton for a sailor,

so I called myself fFrank?

Are you just crazy, or are you irritable

because Ruth isn't home?

When I think of Singapore

and all them ports I'll never...

get Anna on the phone.

I want to find out where she is.

If I thought she went down to see that Craig feller, I'd...

Ruth?

Uh-huh.

Where have you been all this time?

Why do you got your best duds on?

Did you go to see that Craig feller?

I told her not to go.

Yes, but you hear her.

She has a right to have her say.

Why did you do what Papa told you not to, Ruth?

I had to.

You had to go against my will?

Now, wait a minute, Clinton.

Why did you disobey your father, Ruth?

I thought if I didn't,

I'd kill myself.

You didn't sign nothing?

Papa wants to know what Mr. Craig said.

Well, he just wanted to see me and meet me.

That was all.

I thought Miss Dawn said

Mr. Craig could use you right away.

If I was right, she said.

Could he tell you weren't from just only one look?

No, but it wasn't like that.

Well, what was it like?

I just went into his office and...

And sat there.

Mr. Craig...

Go on, dear.

Well, he didn't seem like

he was interested, very,

and I was sort of scared.

I didn't think I was going to be,

but I was,

and he didn't even ask me to sit down,

but I thought I'd better

so I wouldn't look so short.

And then he just looked at me

like he was quite busy,

and then he said,

"What experience have you had?"

And I got all mixed up and said,

"No amateur experience,

only professional."

And then I had to go back and say,

"I mean, no professional,

only amateur."

And then he said that he didn't think

that I fit into the company

because I was hardly suited to any part.

Well, he ain't the only fish in the sea.

What did you go to see him for, anyway?

Miss Dawn recommended him.

He's supposed to be the best director.

Would you like

a glass of root beer, Ruth?

Hello.

Hello, Dan?

Is that you, Dan?

Well, I thought it was.

It sounds like you.

Uh, this is Clinton Jones.

Can you hear me, Dan,

or would you like me to talk a little louder?

Oh.

Well, I'm telephoning, Dan,

about a matter that's given me a whole lot of concern,

and what I'd like to do is, uh,

is to ask about it

without in no ways butting in.

It's about what's happening

down at the factory...

About you leaving.

Uh, now, Dan, would you just mind repeating that

so I'm sure I got it correct?

You done it because you wanted to do it.

Mr. Cottington didn't ask you to do it.

In other words, Dan,

the whole idea come from your end.

Uh-huh.

Well, uh... uh...

thanks, Dan. I'm glad to hear you say it.

Fixed as I am, it's a relief.

You can appreciate, Dan,

that I'm not just asking this

out of idle curiosity.

Thanks, Dan.

Well, you can start hanging up now, Dan.

I'm going to hang up my end.

Good-bye.

Good-bye, Dan.

Oh, isn't that just a blessing?

Dan's a very lovely man.

Papa had a worry, too,

but his got straightened out.

Now, here, here.

You got a kick in the pants,

but that ain't fatal.

A kick in the pants

ain't never very agreeable,

but it don't have to dislocate your whole life.

I told you to get education.

Now, you go ahead and get it.

Then you'll be ready.

Maybe you ought to write to that place

you was telling me about in New York,

that place that's like the YWCA.

Oh, the Three Arts Club.

They say it's a very lovely place,

far superior to the YWCA.

Three Arts Club, huh?

That don't sound like such a bad anchorage.

How much do you think it would take for you

to get started with all your seams caulked?

How long do you think it would take you

before you signed on to a job?

I could get a job right off.

I know I could.

It mightn't be good or anything,

but I know I could.

Let's all go in and have our supper.

Do you have any idea of what it would take?

You can't start an enterprise

without a little money in your jeans.

$18, maybe.

Now, I tell you what I'll do.

You graduate from high school,

and I'll set you up for two weeks

at this Three Arts Club.

Plus which I'll see if I can dig up $50

to let you have.

You know, acting or navigating,

the rule is just the same...

Start with some money in your jeans.

Oh, Clinton, you're a splendid man.

I don't care a thing about that old valentine.

Ruth, you've got a splendid father.

Papa, I wouldn't take $50.

That would just be wasteful.

I know more about the world than you do.

I run away from the people

who were in charge of bringing me up.

They was awful people.

The only one I ever met

was your old cousin Hartwell.

They was awful people!

They worked me long and hard.

Then when I went against their will,

they locked me in the woodshed, or they beat me.

Then they went to church three times on sunday.

Christmas I was 8 years old,

they wrapped up my good suit that I'd been wearing all winter

and hung it on the sunday school christmas tree.

Clinton.

I been to the Fijl Islands.

I got along with them people all right.

I been up in the Baltic!

I seen men catch fish with their bare hands

and eat them raw.

They was pleasant-spoken, agreeable sort of people.

I eat many a bowl of rice with the heathen Chinese.

But from one end of the world to the other,

I never seen nothing to equal those long-eared hypocrites,

those great-aunts of mine...

Erathusa and Retire Bassett of Dorset, Mass.

Well, so that Christmas when I was 8,

I ran up to New Bedford, and I signed on as a cabin boy

on a vessel with a cargo of whale oil

bound for Barcelona.

I didn't care much where she was bound for.

Anything seemed better

than going back with Retire and Erathusa Bassett,

who was in charge of bringing me up.

If only your mother had been alive,

everything would have been different.

Well, she wasn't alive.

My mother wasn't alive

because she killed herself in a Boston boardinghouse.

I was 2 years old.

My father run away.

Clinton.

I guess there wasn't much else my mother could do.

Wasn't trained for no kind of labor or nothing.

Small child to look after.

And she knew how mean them people were.

I guess rather than go back there, she...

well, she done what she done.

Gee, Papa.

Your poor mother.

Clinton, you never told me.

No. Now you know why I never see none of my folks

and I don't want to talk about them.

I'll be bitter about them if I live to be 100.

They was awful people.

Till the day I die, I'll be bitter about them!

So when the time comes

for my daughter to go out in the world,

I'd like to kind of grease the way for her...

about $50 worth.

Oh, Papa!

The only thing, I don't know

where in the name of fried parsnips

this money's going to come from.

You'll get it, Clinton.

Just you believe you will.

Of course there's always my bonus,

due the first week in July. That's $100.

We could maybe carve out half of that...

That is, of course,

if they'll advance it to me.

Do you know what $50 means

to your father and I, Ruth?

In my whole life, I've never seen

$50 all together, not even once.

Oh, Mama.

But money isn't everything.

All we really need is faith.

Well, you and Ruth grapple with the faith end,

and I'll tackle old W. K. Cottington.

Faith is a great thing, all right,

but I never been in no situation yet

where having a little money made things any worse.

Be careful.

Don't hurt yourself.

See you later, Katherine.

All right. Come on.

Hey, you look like

some kind of a suffragette or something,

hauling trunks around. Here.

Thanks.

What's the address of this Three Arts Club?

340 West 85th Street, New York City.

My room is number 61.

It's reserved beginning today.

In New York City,

there's a room waiting for me

to just unlock the door and walk in.

I didn't ask anyone else to Class Day.

If you liked me enough, you'd stay.

I could if I let me, but I can't let me.

Aren't you ever going to get interested in a fella?

Not unless they live in New York City

or just outside.

But how could you help it?

Because I'm never again going to let myself.

You see, Fred, because if I did,

then I myself might not want to be an actress.

That's why,

excepting games of Post Office, of course,

I'll never kiss anybody,

but if I do, it'll either be Post Office

or the fella has to live in New York City.

Or just outside.

Well, I'll write you.

All right.

I'll think about you Class Day.

I'll write you how it comes out.

Fine.

And you can write me anytime.

All right.

Well... good-bye.

Oh, dear. Good-byes are sad.

Maybe she won't stay forever, Fred.

People change their minds.

Oh, Mama.

Oh, I know you're different.

I was just saying to Fred about people.

Couldn't you at least let me run you over to the station?

No, Fred. No.

It would only make it worse.

Good-bye.

Oh, dear.

He's such a nice boy.

With any encouragement at all, he...

Where do you suppose Papa is?

He'll be here,

so you go upstairs and start getting ready.

Punk,

what on earth makes you enjoy eating Boston Fern?

Clinton, where have you been?

Ruth's up getting dressed.

Tell her to heave to.

What?

Tell her to never mind getting dressed.

She's got to get dressed

if she's going to New York City,

doesn't she?

No, she don't.

Will you please tell me why she doesn't?

Because she ain't going.

Tell her she better hyper down to the railroad station

and get the money back on the ticket.

Clinton!

What on earth do you mean Ruth isn't going?

I can't afford to send her. That's what I mean.

Can't afford to send nobody to be an actress,

because at the moment I haven't got a job.

How could this happen to us?

I launched out against old Cottington

about his lollygagging bonus.

Oh, dear. Oh, dear.

And he says to me, kind of real snippy-like,

he says, "just how do you propose

to remedy this situation?"

I said, "just give me what's due me.

"Don't do me no lollygagging favors.

"Instead of handing me 100 simoleons

at the end of the fiscal year,

"give it to me in the form

of a $2.00 weekly increase.

"Then it's mine, and I know I got it,

and we can stop all this worry and palaver."

You mean he went and fired you

just because you asked for something you were entitled to?

I didn't give him time to fire me.

I fired myself.

He says, "you mean you don't wish

to continue as you have the last 24 years?"

I said, "that's right," and he said...

I was a little surprised myself.

Couldn't you just been a little more tactful?

Let him be tactful for once!

Ruth's $50!

Well, can't afford it now.

She'll have to go some other time.

Clinton, I...

Well, I can't stretch the money

if I haven't got the money to stretch, can i?

Maybe...

Mama! Mama, where are you?

Look at me!

I'm practically an actress already.

Child...

Oh, Mama, don't be sad. Be proud!

Clinton, wouldn't you just let me

go and sew for people?

I could make more than $50!

Papa, what's the matter?

You can't go,

so hyper out of them duds and stow your gear.

Can't go?

Not today.

But why can't I?

Because I haven't got the dough-re-mi.

But you said you could give it to me.

Yes, but now I say I can't give it to you.

Get down to the railroad station,

get your money back before it's too late.

I will not take my ticket back!

You said I could be an actress,

and I'm going!

You haven't got any money. You can't...

I can so! I won't need any money.

You paid my room at the Three Arts Club

with two weeks' advance,

and I'll go like I said I would go.

I... I got to!

If I don't go today,

then I'll bet I'll never go,

and if I let one thing stop me,

it'll be another and another and another,

and I'll never, never, nev...

Papa, you...

You gave me your word.

Ruth, Papa had it out with Mr. Cottington.

He lost his position.

Papa, how can that be?

Couldn't kowtow no longer for what is mine by rights.

Couldn't bend the knee no lower.

I don't know what I've done with my handkerchief.

Ruth, get me a doily.

Fanny May Jackson embroidered me that.

I never like to use it.

Use it, Mama. It ain't nothing

to the ones I'm going to buy you.

I got $2.40 of my money and my railroad ticket,

so I'll just get a job sooner

so's I can look after you and Mama.

Oh, Clinton,

she can't go be an actress on $2.40.

I can so! Where's my box of lunch?

Clinton, would you let me

give her my engagement ring?

Do let me, please.

I gave you that to keep.

She could get some money for it.

Mama, you mean go in a pawn shop?

I'd rather be dead.

If you're going to be an actress,

you'll be in and out of a pawn shop all your life.

I'll go see every single manager in New York City.

I'll go see them beginning at 6:00 in the morning.

You got plenty of sand.

I'll say that for you.

I got anything I want to have,

but I won't have anything at all

if trouble makes me go and give up.

Why, to actresses, it's even a help.

I bet I'd even learn to welcome trouble.

I bet I could actually enjoy it.

Now, hold on.

There ain't no call to render a solo

on the beauties of being in the soup.

On the other hand, if it's gumption

that it takes to be an actress,

you certainly got that, all right.

I know what's going on inside you, snuggy.

Your mother says you're like me.

I guess maybe,

for better or for worse, you are.

I don't think you got any idea

what you're tackling,

but I'm willing to help you find out.

I always staked you in the past.

I'm willing to continue along the same.

Clinton, what are you going to do?

Going to wrap this up in a newspaper,

if I can find a good one.

Get me the Boston globe.

Now, snuggy, when you get to New York,

you take this to Captain Alec Forbes,

555 South Street,

and he'll give you $100 for it.

Papa, I...

and if Captain Forbes

happens to be away on a voyage,

you take it to any ship's chanter

along that street.

Ain't one of them

won't give you 100 for it, spot cash.

Papa, I can't take it. I wouldn't.

It's your spyglass.

Money is for those who need it.

I got no further use for a spyglass.

But I know I can get a loan.

Ah, don't be bousing your jib.

You may love your Hazel Dawns,

but you know money

is an ever-loving friend, too.

But what about you and Mama

if maybe I didn't get a job right off?

Rest easy, now.

I been on the payroll since I was 8 years old.

I been cast overboard before.

Ain't like I was trying to get a job

as Vice President, you know.

There's always plenty of room at the bottom.

Oh, Papa, I want only merely

just to look after you and Mama,

but we'll have things,

and every time we feel like it,

we'll throw away $50.

When I was a little girl,

there were just three things I wanted...

a pony, a gold watch and chain, and a velvet dress.

I got the pony,

and Papa got me the gold watch and chain.

I feel sure someday you'll get me the velvet dress.

I will, Mama. I will.

All right, now. It's time to go.

Ruth, you got your handkerchief

and your railroad ticket?

Papa will take your suitcase.

You take it, Clinton, and I'll take her lunch.

Tomorrow morning in New York City,

I'll be eating bread you made me

and peanut butter from old Backus' groceries.

Backus! Why didn't it come from S.S. Purse?

Oh, Clinton.

Ruth, you take Fred Whitmarsh's carnations

and... and Papa's spyglass.

I ain't never talked to you a whole lot, snuggy,

and I ain't gonna start spouting now,

but if I didn't think you could take care of yourself,

I wouldn't let you go.

I ain't gonna set down no rules for you to follow

or no special chart for your course.

There's just one thing I'd like you to promise me.

No matter what happens, snuggy,

don't ever act in no place where they sell hard liquor.

Oh, Papa, no matter if it kills me,

I'll make this up to you and Mama.

I'll make good. You see if I don't.

It's a wonderful thing, Ruth,

to have a father

that believes in you $100 worth.

I'll make it up to you somehow, Papa.

Ah, no need to doff your top and feel beholden.

You're just getting what's yours by right.

You're just getting your chance, that's all.

On your side of the ledger,

if now and then you think kindly of your ma and me,

why, everything will come out square.

Come on, now. Heave anchor.