Telegram for Mrs. Davis

Pama, life's hope, your beauty hope, and bluster cream shampoo for soft glamorous, caressible hair bring you our Miss Brooke starring E. Varden. After teaching English to the summer school students of Madison High all week long, last Saturday didn't arrive a minute too soon for our Miss Brooks.

Generally, the thing I like best about Saturday is that it gives me a full 12 hours to speculate upon just how boring Sunday will be. But last Saturday, while I was having breakfast with my landlady Mrs. Davis, a bombshell was hurled into our usual routine.

That's the front door, Bell, isn't it, Connie? Bell is an overstatement, Mrs. Davis. It used to be a bell years ago. Now it sounds like a dying rattlesnake with a frog in its throat. It's Connie.

I wonder who it can be anyway. Alright, I'm coming. Maybe you shouldn't answer it, Connie. I've had the strangest feeling of foreboding all morning. Well, that's silly, Mrs. Davis. It might be good news. Why?

Oh, why should it be bad news? Why not? Let's have the playoffs when I come back. Good morning. I have a telegram here for a Mrs. Davis. Are you a Mrs. Davis? I'm not a Mrs. Anything yet.

Don't tell me I've delivered this telegram to the wrong address. Well, I've never been guilty of that in all my years in the service. Well, Farby, it for me to depress one of our boys in uniform.

This is Mrs. Davis's house, all right? I just live with her. Miss Brooks is the name. How do you do? I'm Herby Terwilliger. That's my bike at the curb. Glad to know both of you.