Donovan's Reef Page #5

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but three carts and no horse?

Unforgivable.

When I think

how he has deceived you!

Playing upon your sympathies,

pretending to be a fine father,

I could tear my beard out by the roots.

- And it's such a beautiful beard.

- Yes, isn't it?

You'd be amazed if I told you how many

wom... Well, that's not important.

Tell me, chre Amlie, hasn't this

revelation changed your...

...your affections towards Donovan?

Indeed it has. And for reasons

you would never suspect.

The place is out of bounds.

Quiet now. You're all going

to the garden parties.

- What about the beer?

- There's lashings of drinks.

- Orangeade, lemonade...

- Papaya-ade.

- Iced tea.

- Iced tea!

Now, shove off, like the nice

little gentlemen you are. Go on, now.

Hey, look!

Oh, no, no, no!

- Let's have some service.

- How about some beer?

- Get a move on.

- How about some bottles of beer?

Come on, let's have some beer.

All right, the joint's closed.

Why don't you Limeys shove off?

Limeys?

I distinctly heard him say that.

Limeys.

"Limeys," he said.

I beg your pardon, did I understand

you to say "Limeys"?

- I heard him.

- Gilhooley, where's my suit?

- Stay out of this. You might get hurt.

- You looking for trouble?

Tipperary born and bred. Limeys?

You're not going to allow three

against one, even if it is Gilhooley?

I've seen it done.

- Three against two.

- Me?

It's the holidays.

Christmas. Have a drink.

- I will, then.

- On the house.

Look, we're noble allies.

Coral Seas, we were with you.

- He's got a point.

- A definite point.

- My apologies and a merry Christmas.

- Happy New Year.

Festus! My little brother.

Festus, we're having a sporting event.

Turn your hat around.

You are now a Yank.

Three against three.

Hey, Guns!

Festus! Festus!

Oh, shut up.

Gilhooley!

- Festus, you're a Yank.

- Festus! Festus!

- Let's have a beer.

- I'm sorry about the piano.

Don't worry about the piano.

- What's a piano amongst friends?

- That's a good one.

Peace on Earth and goodwill to men.

Oui, free beer! Free beer!

I told you Limeys to get out of here.

Why aren't you at the garden party,

you heathen?!

Knock it off, fellas.

It's a holiday. Peace on Earth.

That'll get you a fat lip. Free beer!

Hey, quit it! What are you doing?

- Who started it?

- I did, sir. Respectfully.

- See you on the mat in the morning.

- Aye, sir.

- Carry on.

- Left turn.

Quick march.

- Gilhooley.

- Pardon me, Padre.

- Is this yours?

- Non, c'est la bote jukes.

Juke's box. Music. Comme a.

Regardez. Voil. Music.

Charming. Lisette, Joanne,

Annelle, Kalua, Nani, Lani.

I am like a fath...

I am like a father to them all.

Put your hat on, you brat!

Aw, shut up!

Andr, has anyone ever told you

you're the biggest louse in the world?

Heredity. My family was

always known as the biggest louses...

- Lice.

- Lice?

On the Loire.

Pardon. Protocol.

- I'm sorry I'm late.

- Twins?

Tonsils.

Your Highness.

And a visitor to our island paradise...

Your sister Amelia.

Sally.

Amelia.

Sweet.

Well, brother of mine,

what are you so unhappy about?

My pants are too tight. Look.

Thank you.

The Kennedys will be furious.

And as for the Donovans...

Oh, that man!

Mademoiselle, look. A miracle.

A new roof for the chapel.

I'm very happy for you, Father.

Miss Lafleur, merry Christmas.

- Oh, thanks.

- And this will amuse you, Mr. Gilhooley.

- And Mr. Donovan?

- He's dressing for the garden party.

- What's all the rush about?

- Mr. Donovan.

Of all the selfish, stupid,

evil, poisonous people!

- Who?

- You.

- Me?

- Yes.

That's a fine how-do-you-do

on Christmas Day.

How do you think those children feel,

driven out of home

as if their father's ashamed of them?

- You've got this twisted.

- No, I haven't.

You're the one we were worried about.

We didn't know if some old maid...

You turned your nose up

at everybody and everything

until I made

a human being out of you.

- You? Made a human being out?

- Yes.

May I ask how?

Let go of me!

- That's how!

- Oh, you! Old maid!

- Oh, Miss Dedham.

- You're quite welcome.

Tommy, now you've got to marry me!

Sure, baby, sure, sure.

Amelia, aren't you going

to say goodbye to Uncle Guns?

- Mr. Donovan? No, I am not.

- No guts, huh?

Amelia.

Not again.

Michael! Michael Donovan! I...

Did you hurt your... self?

You know

I'm leaving for home today?

So I heard.

Michael, if what you said is true,

and if I marry you,

I don't want our children growing up

knowing their father is a saloon-keeper.

I gave it to 'em for a wedding present.

- Pax?

- Pax.

A marriage made in heaven.

- If I were to consent to marry you...

- If?!

And if we were to have a boy,

he will be called

Francis X Donovan, after my father.

He will be called Sedley Atterbury

Dedham, after my great-uncle.

- That's a hell of a name for a Donovan!

- Michael!

- We'll call him William, after my father.

- After the Doc?

- That's swell. I'll call him Bill.

- Pax?

Pax.

Amelia, you have a mean

Irish temper, but I love it.

From now on,

I wear the pants in this family.

Oh, you...!

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