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the house with the shamrock gate
No butlers in
the pantry, no peacocks
on the walk — for
this is the house where
Ann Blyth lives —
with Cis and Pat and
a fat canary.
BY DUANE VALENTRY
en guests come they gather round this corner fireplace in living room. Ann prefers quiet evenings here to nightclubs.
■ All Ann Blyth wanted was a little house with a few flowers in the garden. The real estate agent couldn't believe it. "We have castles for girls like you," he said sternly.
So Ann collected her dignity and her Uncle Pat and her Aunt Cissie. They rode down into the San Fernando Valley where the sun was brighter than Hollywood's gold — and there they found the place. . . .
It was completely covered with ivy and almost hidden by foliage, but Ann pointed to it excitedly. "That's it!" she cried. "That's it!"
"That's what?" asked Aunt Cissie.
"My dream house." sighed Ann. ■
"I am too old," said Uncle Pat, "to live in a tree."
But they bought the place, and as it turned out, it was more than fit for human habitation. Uncle Pat trimmed the outside with an axe, and what finally emerged was a lovely white house, Spanish-style stucco, rambling and roomy. Around it now is a low wall, covered with berries and flowers. And at one end of the wall is a swinging gate with a shamrock cut into the center.
The gate swings out onto the huge back lawn where Mickey, a black cat with white paws, lives. It swings into the arched doorway of the one-story house where Ann and Cissie and Pat have settled down. (Continued on next page)