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That’s June Allyson — with a tomboy’s sense of humor and a woman’s instinct about love
SHE’S Peter Pan. But she’s also the wisest of women with wisdom and maturity exceeding her years. Most important, she’s in a sober and maternal mood. Friends who drop by when she has a day off, find her upstairs in the blue and pink nursery, her pajama sleeves rolled up, busily bathing the baby. “You don’t mind, do you?” she asks. “I never get to be with her except when I have a day off. And she knows when I’m bathing her, too. She gets very frisky.” And June looks adoringly at her little baby daughter with the big blue eyes and cupid’s-bow mouth, who resembles her foster parents so much she might well have been their own.
“Are you laughing because you don’t think I know anything about this?” she asks, tenderly
placing Pamela in the bassinet. Surprisingly enough, she does know about babies and any queries as to whether she’s been studying the subject gets a soft, “I wanted a baby so long. If I didn’t know how to take care of her, I should be shot.
“You know,” she continues, “my earliest ambition was to be a nurse. I’d have been a good nurse, too. I can talk anybody out of almost anything.” She could, too. She could talk the spots right off a patient’s measles ... or at least talk him out of believing he had them. She’s very smart with people, in her way of handling them.
“I want four children,” she goes on dreamily, “and when I get them, I’m going to quit making pictures. Richard reads ( Continued on page 101)
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