Kitty Foyle Page #2

I don't need a piece of paper

to prove that I love Wyn...

...or that he loves me.

You'd be a lot happier with Mark

and that little piece of paper...

...than you ever could with Wyn

and a snug little apartment...

...with a key for him

and a key for you.

You know what I think?

I think you're wrong.

I remember you using

those same words before.

Remember?

Way back when you lived

on Griscom Street in Philadelphia.

That's where Pop brought you up,

and what a grand guy he was.

It was the night of

the Philadelphia Assembly, remember?

You should have been home,

but you weren't.

You were about 15 then.

That's P. Seward Berwynn.

There's Mrs. Rosy Fittenhouse.

Judas Priest, what a clock.

Always slow.

Philadelphia blood, I suppose.

Kitty.

- I was just...

- Come here.

- I was just...

- Oh, I know what you were just doing.

The assembly's tonight,

and you were downtown...

...gawking at rich mainliners

parading into the Bellevue-Stratford...

...and getting silly ideas.

No, I wasn't, Pop.

I was watching, yes, but...

Kitty, you've got to get this trash

out of your mind.

From now on...

From now on, you're going

to Sunday school every Sunday.

Rain or shine, you're going.

But why, Pop?

Well, it'll give you

a little Christian upbringing, that's why.

Give you a sense of values.

You mean, and then

I won't ever sin or anything?

Well, it may not keep you from sinning...

...but by Judas Priest, it'II keep you

from getting any fun out of it.

Take your mind off of that tommyrot

in the society page for a change.

It's not any more tommyrot

than "The Lady of Shalott."

- "Lady of Shalot''?

- You know:

And sometimes thro' the mirror blue

The knights went riding two by two:

She hath no loyal knight and true,

The Lady of Shalott.

Papdash, Kitty.

If you're not reading about

mainline monkeys...

...you've got your head stuck

in a Cinderella book.

It must be wonderful, Pop.

You've been sitting in ashes all your life,

and then suddenly a prince comes along.

And when did you sit in any ashes?

I don't mean me.

I mean like Cinderella.

Judas Priest, if ever a man

deserved to be hung...

...it's the fellow who started

that Cinderella stuff.

Writing claptrap stories

about Cinderellas and princes.

Poisoning the minds

of innocent children.

Putting crazy ideas into girls' heads.

Making them dissatisfied

with honest shoe clerks and bookkeepers.

Why, they're the ruination

of more girls than 40 actors.

Oh, I don't see

what's the ruination about it.

After all, the prince and Cinderella

lived happily ever afterwards.

Yes, and that's where

these writing fellows are smart too.

They always end the story

before it really begins.

Well, why couldn't they be happy, Pop?

Why, it's a lead-pipe cinch

that they couldn't.

What do you think

they'd have to talk about?

You think he wants to go on hearing

about the ashes she was sitting in...

...and how hot they were?

"Okay," he says,

"So they were hot.

Let's talk about something else

for a change."

And there she'd be, alone...

...sitting on that velvet cushion...

...ready to swap all the strawberries

and cream in the kingdom...

...for one hamburger,

well done, with onions.

You know what I think, Pop?

I think you're wrong.

Judas Priest!

But time moved on...

...and skirts got six inches longer...

...and they stopped playing "Sonny Boy,"

thank goodness...

...and took up "Who's Afraid

of the Big Bad Wolf."

Then, boom, came the Depression...

...and you had to trade in

a few of those dreams...

...for a volume of Gregg Shorthand,

remember?

June 1932.

Mr. Hoover said

if Mr. Roosevelt was elected...

...grass would grow in the streets.

Mr. Roosevelt said

that if Mr. Hoover got back in...

...there wouldn't be any streets.

All of a sudden, you were set.

Oh, boy.

All you needed

to get a peach of a job...

...was this fancy document...

...and a miracle.

Then, on July 23rd...

...at exactly 4:
37 p. M...

...will you ever forget?

Judas Priest! Put it out, put it out!

- Don't get excited, Tom, I'll take care of it.

- Do something!

Get some water, get some water!

Isn't there any water in the house?

Somebody get a bucket of water!

No, not that, not that!

- Drop that bottle!

- Pop, don't get excited. Sit down.

With all the water

there is in the world...

...you have to use

a $4 bottle of whiskey.

There's more where that came from,

Tony's bathtub.

That's no bathtub whiskey.

He's been sick.

He shouldn't be upset.

- The stuff doesn't grow on trees, you know.

- Come on now.

- Why couldn't you have done that?

- I thought it would explode.

- What, are you trying to ruin the rug?

- Just trying to put the fire out. I'm sorry.

- My fault, I dropped some ashes.

- Wyn, that's my daughter.

Kitty, this is Mr. Wyn Strafford...

...one of those mainliners

you used to talk about.

- How do you do, Miss Foyle?

- How do you do?

I'm sorry I spoke a little sharply

to you just now.

I'm usually a little cooler-headed.

Yes, I'm sure so.

He wants me to help with articles

for his new magazine...

...about the boys I taught cricket.

What are you doing in here

in your shirttail?

- Judas Priest!

- Get out of here, get out of here.

She's too big

to be running around like that.

A nice girl, Tom.

She's a good kid, all right.

If it weren't for my bad heart,

she'd be going to college...

...instead of tramping the streets

for a job.

Does she type?

She types faster than you can think.

Well, I don't know that

that's much of a tribute.

But if she can type at all, we might

be able to use her down at the office.

Ask her to drop in.

There seems to be a certain

informality about her...

...that might brighten our lives

down there.

This is not right, Miss Foyle.

The use of "esquire" in business

is a New York affectation.

Very bad taste.

Well, I've seen letters addressed to you

"Mr. Wynnewood Strafford VI, Esq."

New Yorkers, perhaps. It's still wrong.

A man can't be both "Mr." and "Esq."

At the same time.

One or the other is about

all he's capable of being.

Well, I've certainly seen them

just plain "Esq."

Say, how does one get to be an esquire,

anyway?

Oh, I don't know. He just is.

Pop says you get to be

an esquire...

...if you can sit on one animal

and chase another.

Did I sound stuffy?

- I'm sorry.

- Pardon?

Okay, get stuffy yourself.

I've said I'm sorry.

Did you get my column

off the Dictaphone?

Oh, yes, and it's a...

What?

Nothing.

Go ahead, what about it?

Don't be afraid.

I was just thinking...

...how your voice sounds

on the Dictaphone.

Do you know who it sounds like?

- No, who?

- Ronald Coleman.

Really?

- I played it over again, and it's lovely.

- That's funny.

So different from what it is actually.

Do you really think it's true,

Miss Foyle...

...that my voice sounds

rather like that of Mr. Coleman?

- Hello, everybody.

- Hello, Jean.

- Who's winning?

- Just started.

Oh, Miss Bala,

did you bring in your copy?

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