Curly Top Page #4

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- I know more.

- I'll bet you do.

But listen, I've got a friend that...

- Oh, I bet that isn't true.

- What?

You said you had a friend.

I bet you have lots of friends.

Curly, you are an old flatterer.

- Is that something bad?

- Of course not, darling. Now, look here.

I'm pretty sure this friend of mine

would like you.

I think he'd like to give you a beautiful home,

lovely dresses to wear, dozens of dolls,

and send you to the grandest kind of school

and all sorts of nice things like that.

How could your friend do all that? I thought

only daddies could do such nice things.

Well, being a lawyer,

that's where that comes in.

You are too young to understand, but I could

arrange with my friend to legally adopt you.

All I want you to tell me is how you'd like it if

my friend could do those nice things for you.

- Would you want him to?

- I don't think I could do it.

You couldn't? Why not?

Do I have to say right off?

You mean you want time to think it over?

- Could I come back and tell you in a while?

- Why, of course. I'll wait for you right here.

- Promise?

- Promise.

Cross your heart?

Mary!

Mary! Oh, Mary!

Mary! Mary!

Mary!

Mrs Denham, suppose that youngster

had a real chance in life.

Suppose someone gave her

everything money can buy.

Of course, we always hope

our children may be adopted.

But Elizabeth's case

presents a special problem. You see...

There's no human problem

that can't be solved by kindness.

- By Jove, Mrs Denham, I'll do it.

- You mean that you'll adopt Elizabeth?

On one condition. She must

never know that I'm her guardian.

Why not?

Because she's always had to

give thanks for every mouthful.

She's never gonna have to be grateful to me.

From now on, she's going to have

all the lovely things in life,

just because she has a right to them.

- But the child will have to be told something.

- That's right. Let's see.

I've got it. Tell her that I'm acting for a client.

We'll say that she's being adopted

by a man by the name of...

- Let's call him Hiram Jones.

- Oh, Mr Morgan...

Before you go on, there's something

about Elizabeth that you must know.

(knock at door)

Come in.

Well, have you made up your mind?

- You haven't? Why not?

- Could I tell your friend?

My friend?

Oh!

You mean Mr Jones. Hiram Jones, hm?

What is it you want to tell him?

I would like to tell him that I'd love to go and

live in his house if my sister could come too.

- Your sister?

- Yes, my sister, Mary.

- She works in the kitchen. There she is.

- This is Mary Blair, Mr Morgan.

We've met.

Isn't my sister pretty?

And she's awfully nice, too.

Mr Morgan, I'm very grateful to you -

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