Christmas in Connecticut

Well, thank you, sir.
Yes, Mrs. Lane's feature is...
But... But I'm not sure
I could do that, Mr. Yardley.

Mrs. Lane's farm and her home life are
something we have no right to intrude on...

I only ask two things of my editors.
Print the truth and obey my orders.
I expect Mrs. Lane at 4.
Elizabeth? This is Dudley.
I think I'd better have lunch with you.
It's important.

Well, then I'll come over now
and see you.

From my living room window
as I write...

...I can look out across the broad
front lawns of our farm...

:12:54 a lovely picture postcard
of wintry New England.

In my fireplace, the good cedar logs
are burning and crackling.

I just stopped to go
into my gleaming kitchen...

:13:07 test the crumbly brown goodness
of the toasted veal cutlets in my oven.

Cook these slowly.
Come in.
- Miss Lane?
- Yes.

Thank you very much.
- Merry Christmas.
- Same to you, miss.

- Felix.
- Hello. Your breakfast.

Felix, you shouldn't.
Not in this weather.

All the way from the restaurant
with no hat or coat. You'll catch cold.

In Budapest, this was summer.

Anyway, it's just around the corner...
...and anyway, if it wasn't for you,
I wouldn't got no restaurant.