Room for One More

This is the story of my wife.

Well, of course, that isn't her.

Um, nor is that.

It's this one

the one with the gleam in her eye.

About 350 infants a year, pass through our nursery.

Some of them from broken homes, majority from unmarried mothers.

Most of them are placed within a few days of their arrival.

They're left in their new homes for a period of 12 months

before formal adoption.

It's like a love affair.

If both sides are happy with each other at the end of a year

they make it legal.

For the 350 babies, we average

over 1800 applications.

A woman who applied for a baby today

would have to wait more than three years.

That's an awfully long time to be expecting.

You're right.

Now, if you'll step this way, please.

Miss Kenyon, you're certainly doing a wonderful job here.

- Thank you. - You should be very proud.

We don't take much credit for that.

Stock sells itself.

But here's a department, where we're in the rift.

But you must be able to find homes for some of them.

We'd like to find homes for all of them.

You see, our one aim is to put ourselves out of business.

It's easy to find homes for little

golden haired girls with blue eyes.

But who'd want that snaggle-tooth boy there

with butch hair cut?

I know he isn't very handsome.

That doesn't change the fact that he's a child

and he needs a home.

There's nothing wrong with him

but being three days old wouldn't fix.

You're perfectly right, maybe our PTA

can help place a few of these children.

We'll do all we can to help find them suitable homes.

- What's wrong with your homes? - Why, I..

I happen to know they're all eminently suitable.

Oh, but, Miss Kenyon, these children are so much older.

I... I have children of my own, they'd be jealous.

Well, I wouldn't mind a baby, but then a child

who's character might've already been...

They might be a bad influence

on your children, or they might

do something to disgrace your entire family.

Why, yes. You're right.

I have no answers to your objections.

I'm sorry, I shouldn't have put you all in a spot like that.

Goodbye and thank you for giving up your Sunday

to pay us a visit.

- Goodbye. - Goodbye.

Come in.

I'd like to help put you out of business.

Don't tell me someone was listening to me.

Well, I wasn't listening, I was watching.

But Mrs. Rose, you have three of your own.

Well, it should've been four, but we lost one.

Since then, we felt sort of short-changed.

What will your husband say?

He'll be crazy about the idea.

Just as soon as I get the courage to tell him.

I've never had a child this way before.

What do I do, just pick one?

I have one all picked out for you.

I've just been praying for someone

to make an offer like yours today.

Sit down.

- We really have an emergency. - An emergency?

A child was just brought to us.

She'll be a lot of trouble, a disturbed adolescent.

She tried to commit suicide.

Oh, well, now look, all I want is a sweet little child

that plays hopscotch.

This girl's had year after year of hell.

Her mother and father split up.

The mother remarried, didn't want the child.

She's been beaten, abused.

Her mother finally put her out of the house

and locked her out.

I couldn't cope with that

I'm not equipped for that kind..

She probably needs analysis.

She needs a home and a mother

to take the place of what she's had.

- Ms. Kenyon, I don't think... - Mrs. Rose!

- I know you from way back. - I'll think about it.

Every stray dog and cat in the neighborhood

finally makes it's way to your home.

You never ask them about their background.

- Let me talk to my husband. - Make it a good talk.

I want this girl to be with you.

You've an ear for children.

Mmm, um, alright.

Alright, your mother isn't home yet

but I guess it's alright

to open your birthday present.

- Excuse me. - There you go.

- A book? - Yeah.

Yeah, it's a special one.

I went through a lot of trouble to find that.

You did?

The collective poems

of James Whitcomb Riley.

Is that all I get for my birthday?

Well, it contains over 100 masterpieces.

Some of which rhyme. Shall I read one to you?

No.

How about, uh, "What Old Santa Overheard?"

Uh, "Little Orphaned Annie?"

Or the "Lugubrious Wing Wang?"

- No. - Why not?

I'm more interested in the cake.

Well, you don't seem to understand.

Look, it's the deluxe edition

this set me back $2.95.

Look at the binding. May I just read the first page.

Poppy, make the cake.

Make the cake, make the cake.

Can't we take a few moments off for culture?

Here, you hang on to that.

Poppy, I got the basket from Mrs. Foreman.

- Fine. - They here yet, Tim?

She's working on it.

Come on in.

Whose doggie are you?

Not ours, get him out of here.

But maybe he's lost, where can he go?

He can go on relief, we'll be joining him soon enough.

Come along, Tommy, we don't need you here.

We'll lick the place clean ourselves.

Oh, Poppy, how can you do a thing..

- Oh.. - Where's the basket?

Where's the basket? Quick.

Here it is, Tim. You think it's big enough?

Tell that cat to limit production.

The first one's a breach birth, rear end first.

Everything backs into this family.

- Number one. - Oh, an only child?

- Unh-unh. - This is a silly question.

- Number two. - Oh, thank you. Here, Trot.

- Number three. - Mm.

Looks like two boys and a girl.

Hmm.

- Number four. - Thank you, doc.

- She hit the jackpot. - Thank you, again.

- Poppy, make the cake. - What'd you say?

- Poppy, make the cake. - Oh, beg your pardon,

I thought that's what you said.

- The frosting needs more sugar. - Oh, thank you.

Thank you for that.

- That cake's top heavy. - Yeah.

And it is my contention that the six-layer-cake

should contain six layers, not three layers sub-divided.

Besides when I put four coatings of frosting on it

it'll have a perfect piano finish.

- It's still top heavy. - Hm.

- Oh. - Hey.

- Poppy, wait. Wait. - What?

You're wrong, yeah, well, you're supposed to have...

- Numbers five, six, seven. - Just a minute, I'm busy.

- They all look different. - Poppy, I noticed you don't...

One's brown and one's white.

- What'd you say? Yeah. - They all look different.

One's black, one's white, and one's brown.

That cat must've had a bicycle.

Yup!

Well, hello, come on in.

Oh, now, how did you get back in here?

Come here, beat it, beat it. Oh, beat it.

- Who let him in here? - He must've picked the lock.

Let him stay, Poppy, please let him stay.

Oh, I'm very sorry.

- Happy Birthday to you. - Now, I know how let him in.

- Welcome home, Lady Bountiful. - But he looked so lonely.

Yeah, you have to control these generous impulses of yours.

Well, not all of them.

Tell me, what have you been doing all day?

Oh, just window shopping.

Happy Birthday.

There she goes, again.

Wake up. Come on, wake up.

- What is it? - Wake up. Come on.

What did you and the ladies at the PTA wander into yesterday?

- The who? - Come on.

You and the girls, where did you go? Please.

Oh, we went to look over a children's home. Why?

Did you and your old pal, Miss Kenyon

happen to have a heart to heart talk?

Yes, she wanted me to ask you about taking in a child.

Well, she's here, she's brought the little monster with her.

- Come on, come on. - Goodness! I told her to wait.

Yeah, well, I don't think it took, you better tell her again.

- I'm late for work already. - Now, Poppy!

This child has been through a lot.

She's a disturbed adolescent.

Yeah, well, I'm a disturbed adult