Christmas in Connecticut Page #2

- Oh, I don't know.

I'm afraid he's backing out.

It's because he's never had a home.

- He doesn't realize.

- Why don't you do something about it?

Well, do what?

Well, if he spent Christmas

in a real homey home, he might...

That's how Sally Jackson

hooked a Marine last year.

Yeah, but whose home?

Everybody I know lives

in a hotel or one room.

You have a problem.

"Alexander Yardley."

Why, of course.

My dear Mr. Yardley...

...I hope you will remember little me.

This is Mary Lee...

...the girl who nursed

your granddaughter...

...back to health from the measles.

Alexander Yardley?

- Yes, this is Mr. Yardley's residence.

- Special delivery.

Thank you.

- Elkins.

- Yes, sir?

- Did my daughter phone?

- Yes, sir. Midnight last night...

...but I thought it best not to waken you.

- When is she getting here?

- She said she and your granddaughters...

...can't get away from Washington.

Her war work is too heavy.

Say anything else?

Just that she'd call you

and wish you a merry Christmas, sir.

Not much of a Christmas

for me all alone.

No, sir. I'm sorry, sir.

Good morning, Mr. Yardley.

Good morning.

That Elizabeth Lane feature,

the housewife one...

...runs in Home and Garden?

No, sir. Smart Housekeeping.

Get me, what's-his-name...

...Mr. Beecham,

on the direct wire, the editor.

Yes, Mr. Yardley.

Mr. Beecham at Smart Housekeeping, sir.

This is Alexander Yardley.

Oh, yes. Yes. How are you, sir?

May I wish you a merry Christmas?

Well, thank you, sir.

Yes, Mrs. Lane's feature is...

But... But I'm not sure

I could do that, Mr. Yardley.

Mrs. Lane's farm and her home life are

something we have no right to intrude on...

I only ask two things of my editors.

Print the truth and obey my orders.

I expect Mrs. Lane at 4.

Elizabeth? This is Dudley.

I think I'd better have lunch with you.

It's important.

Well, then I'll come over now

and see you.

From my living room window

as I write...

...I can look out across the broad

front lawns of our farm...

...like a lovely picture postcard

of wintry New England.

In my fireplace, the good cedar logs

are burning and crackling.

I just stopped to go

into my gleaming kitchen...

...to test the crumbly brown goodness

of the toasted veal cutlets in my oven.

Cook these slowly.

Come in.

- Miss Lane?

- Yes.

Thank you very much.

- Merry Christmas.

- Same to you, miss.

- Felix.

- Hello. Your breakfast.

Felix, you shouldn't.

Not in this weather.

All the way from the restaurant

with no hat or coat. You'll catch cold.

Pishy-poshy.

In Budapest, this was summer.

Anyway, it's just around the corner...

...and anyway, if it wasn't for you,

I wouldn't got no restaurant.

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