Your Coca-Cola Bottler presents Claudia, based on the famous play and novels by Rose Franken, brought to you transcribed Monday through Friday by your friendly neighbor who bottled Coca-Cola. Relax, and while you're listening, refresh yourself. Have a Coke. And now, Claudia. You walk to the office in the train like this every morning, David? Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night, stays this courier from the swift completion of his appointed task. And hasn't snowed or rained or gloomed since we've been living in Eastbrook, dope. Well, you get the picture. I do. Walking to the office and back to the station keeps me in shape. What shape? For what? For all of your questions, Mrs. Norton. That's telling her, David. Thank you, Mother. Oh, it's so warm in New York. Sounds so busy, I like it. No busier than Connecticut sounds. Well, that's a different busy. Frankly, I much prefer the sounds of crickets, cows, and roosters to buses, horns, and screeching breaks. Nobody said you had to come to town with us. I know, but I didn't cherish the idea of being relegated to home, just like another of your pets. Relegated? Now, that's a nice fancy word, but... I love Shakespeare and Mama. What do you like best, David? Your dog, your cat, or your mother-in-law? Me, of course. I'm the biggest. And the most intelligent. By a narrow margin. My, such flattery. Oh, are you going to drop in and see Aunt Louise and Mama? This afternoon, while you're... While I'm having my hair cut. I thought you were so proud of the fact that you cut it yourself. I do, usually. But this time, I just thought I'd have it done. Uh-huh. What are you, uh, ah-hing about? Nothing. Nothing, nothing at all. Nothing? Then stop trying to look like a wise old owl. Can't I have my hair cut or done if the spirit moves me? Come on, come on. Why don't you confess to me the reason you insisted on coming to New York today? No reason, honestly. I just insisted because I... I... wanted to. Then why create all these elaborate excuses about haircuts? My excuses aren't elaborate. And they aren't excuses. Ever since yesterday, when you received that mysterious letter from a mysterious person making you take a mysterious trip to New York, you've acted mysteriously. I have acted mysteriously? How exciting. How mysterious, you mean? Mama, is that how I've acted? I haven't noticed. Are you in on the big secret, Mother? What big secret, David? Oh, oh, you too. Am I really expected to think that nothing is going on? You are, you are. In spite of the fact that you spent 40 minutes choosing what dress to wear in town... 40 minutes, that's not too long. ...that you squeezed into high heels when you'd be much happier in low ones... Ah, female vanity, mere female vanity. Yeah, you don't usually female vanity about being comfortable, thank goodness. I'm turning over a new leaf, David. No. Yes, we'll see. All right, all right. I won't ask another question. Good. I don't want to have a secret rendezvous. It's perfectly all right with me. Fine. Only it isn't a rendezvous. It isn't anything. You can believe that, David. It isn't anything. Everybody's in on it except me. Darling, you trust me, don't you? No, certainly I trust you. Good. Implicitly. But I trust Mama even more. You can't trust anybody more than implicitly. You're wasting your breath, Mr. Norton. She just won't tell you. That's right, I just won't. Well, there's one thing I've learned. My wife can keep a secret. I suppose you, like all men, think women can't. Well, it just shows you. It certainly does. It not only shows me, it gives me positive proof that there is a secret... and that Mama is an accessory to the crime. I refuse to be called names. Well, not to change the subject, because I find talking about me perfectly fascinating. What train are we all catching back to Eastbrook this afternoon? About the... How about the 403? Can you get through by then? I should be able to. That'll be fine. We'll be back in Eastbrook in time for dinner. Well, here we are. This is where I leave you, ladies. It's not such a long walk from the station to your office, even in high heels. Goodbye, Mother. See you at four o'clock. Have a nice day. And don't forget, I am trusting, trusting, mind you, my wife to you. No, thank you. I don't want responsibility. Oh, I just love the way you two fight over me. Now, listen, you, behave. Yes, you, sir, I mean. No unnecessary running around. No, sir. And above all, don't miss that train. Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir. Four o'clock? Four o'clock. Yes. And we'll meet on the train. With great pleasure, darling. Well, I guess we've said everything. Goodbye. Goodbye. No kiss? Here in the middle of the street. Pretend I'm your cousin from Bulgaria. They always kiss on the street in Bulgaria. They do. Yes, they always do. Goodbye, cousin. Goodbye. Yes. Oh, there are times when it's lovely being a Bulgarian. And whatever your secret is, darling, I hope you won't be disappointed. Oh, David. Why are you so nice? Because I happen to be in love with you. Now, skadoodle. I've got to get upstairs and get to work. Mama and I are skadoodling this minute. Goodbye. See you at four. Goodbye. Well, we've delivered David to his office. Where to now? Oh, Mama, isn't he the most wonderful husband? How you were ever so lucky as to get him, I'll never know. If I don't ever have anything else in life, I've certainly gotten my share of the good things with David. And don't you forget it. Not a chance. Well, no. We'd better get to a phone booth. Who are you going to call? Jim Varney, of course. I'm going to make an appointment with him. You're really going to go through with it? Of course I am. It's what I came to New York for. Well, don't say later I didn't warn you. Warn me about what? Claudia, Jim Varney isn't going to give you a job in his summer theater. Why not? He wrote and asked me if I wanted to come. But he hasn't seen you since dramatic school. It's only a year, Mama. A great deal of water has gone under the bridge this year. In another month you'll be a mother. How do I look? I just told you. Oh, nonsense. You can tell because you know me. Why, in this blue suit a stranger can possibly guess. A blind stranger. Besides, in another month I won't be having a baby anymore, so I can go on being an actress. Go back. You talk as if you'd spent the best years of your life on the boards. On what boards? Just an old theatrical expression. It means being on the stage. How do you happen to know that expression as well? There are lots of things I know that you don't know that I know. Oh, here's a drug store. You'll find a phone booth in it. Mama, I was right not to tell David, wasn't I? Well, it's your life, Claudia. I mean, in case the job doesn't come through, then you'll have been saved an awful lot of disappointment. David married a wife, not an actress, so he won't care. He won't care if I don't get the job because he won't know. I just hope David won't think I want to be an actress because being his wife isn't enough. Is it enough? Maybe if I did act for a while, then I'd realize that being a wife was enough. So far it's so part-time. I've got so many hours during the day when I'm not anything at all. In a month you'll wish you had a few extra hours. Maybe, but in case I don't... Well, anyway, that's why I'm calling Jim Varney. I'll try and make the appointment for 3 o'clock, Mama. That'll give me time to shop around with you, have lunch, and still meet David on the train. Mr. Varney will see you now, Miss... I mean, Mrs. Norton. Well, it's about time. It must be way past 3. Just a little after half past. That late? Oh, dear. Mr. Varney is seeing a great many people these days. He's a busy man. Well, which way is his office? First door on your right. You don't have to knock, just walk in. Jim Varney, production. Uh, Mr. Varney? Just shut the door behind you and come in, dear. Hello, Mr. Varney. Yes? I haven't much time left. I've waited so long, and I've a train to catch. You're Miss... Let me see now. I'm Claudia Brown. Miss Brown? I was. I'm Mrs. Norton now. Oh, yes, yes, Mrs. Norton. Much more suitable, considering, uh... Well, considering. You don't look as if you remembered me. You saw me in a play in dramatic school just last year, and I received a letter from you yesterday. Why, certainly I remember you, my sweet. I just didn't remember you looking the way you do. Oh, I'm married now. Well, I gathered as much. It does make a difference. Did you like me in the play you saw me in? Well, enough to ask you to drop in to see me about my summer theatre in Eastbrook. That's good. Now, uh, when does the theatre open? Fourth of July weekend, chick. See, that's in, uh, six weeks. That's just about right. You look as if you're going to be pretty busy around the Fourth of July. Oh, we don't entertain much, if that's what you mean. It's not what I mean, but it's an interesting bit of information. We live on a farm we just bought. Cows and chickens and things? Well, not yet. Just a rooster. We bought him to eat, but he has so much character, we left him for a pet. Yes, I've always noticed that roosters with character have to be tough anyway. I'd like to meet him some day. The rooster, I mean. Well, when you're up in Eastbrook, you'll have to come over and visit us. It's a lovely old farm. My husband's an architect, you see. He built the place? No, somebody started ahead of him. It was built in 1760. Yes, that would outdate him. But the part he built on is every bit as lovely as the old part. So completely in character. You make it sound charming. I will have to visit you sometime. Oh, I imagine we'll be seeing lots of each other. You'll be anxious for a home-cooked meal now and then. Now, how did you know that? Well, you don't look married. I'm sorry, but I'm in a hurry, Mr. Varney. Do you want me to read something for you or...? Are you kidding me, honey? I mean, Mrs... Kidding you? What about? You're not serious about wanting a job with my summer theatre, are you? Of course I am. Why do you suppose I came all the way to New York to see you? I can't imagine. But, Mr. Varney, your letter said that there's nothing I'd rather do... But, honey, there are so few plays that have parts in them for prospective mothers. Oh. Catch? Oh, but that's all right, Mr. Varney. I'd rather play ingenues and character parts. I don't believe in typecasting, do you? Why don't I? There's a rule, but... Well, honey, you wouldn't be very convincing even if you were the greatest actress in America. Well, you just wouldn't be convincing as an ingenue or a maiden ant or even as a parlor maid. Not just now. And why not, may I ask? Because... well, because you look so married. It's very becoming, but... I'm not going to be having a baby forever. Well, when you stop having one, you come back and see me. I'll have stopped by the time your theater opens. Well, come back then, chick. Oh, men, they can't see past their noses. Can't you imagine what I look like otherwise? Frankly? Yes. No. Then I came all the way down to New York for nothing. Oh, I could kick myself. Well, why don't you kick me instead? You? Well, you hadn't done anything. I was an idiot to think I had a chance. Look, honey, you've got a big chance. You've got a farm, a husband you're very much in love with, a baby you're going to adore. So catch that train back to Eastbrook and make the most of a pretty swell marriage. Oh! What's the matter, chick? I missed it! Missed what? The train! Oh! Home economists say that housework can be made easier if you take time out once in a while, as people do in offices and factories. And while you're stopping to relax, here's a friendly suggestion. Reach into the refrigerator for ice-cold Coca-Cola and make your paws in the day's work a refreshing one. There's a lot to the theory that you do a better job when you work refreshed. Oh, Mr. King, have you seen Claudia anywhere else? No. Last I saw her, she was at Mr. Varney's office. Well, she's only got three minutes left before the train leaves. I'm afraid Claudia's not going to be on the four o'clock train, Mrs. Brown. She isn't? David's going to be frantic. He's combing that train like a detective. Does he know yet what Claudia came into town about? He hasn't said anything to me about it. Poor Claudia. She's going to have a lot of explaining to do tomorrow. Especially if the train leaves New York without her. You know how men are when they're kept waiting. And David worries so. Oh, there it goes. You'd better hurry if you're going to make it. Oh, dear. I'm not looking forward to tomorrow. My daughter's going to be in quite a spot. Goodbye. Well, till tomorrow. Goodbye. As I was about to say, every day, Monday through Friday, Claudia comes to you transcribed with the best wishes of your friendly neighbor who bottles Coca-Cola. So listen again tomorrow at the same time. And now this is Joe King saying au revoir. And remember, whoever you are, whatever you do, wherever you may be, when you think of refreshment, think of Coca-Cola. For Coca-Cola makes any pause the pause that refreshes. And ice-cold Coca-Cola is everywhere. This broadcast of Claudia is supervised and directed by William Brown Maloney. And now here's a word from your friendly neighbor who bottles Coca-Cola.