Fancy Pants Page #2

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In your tea?

Have a banana.

- Howdy.

- Oh, good afternoon, mum.

Aggie.

Good afternoon.

- Your wrap, mum?

- Yeah. Bought it in Chicago.

I'm the butler. May I?

- Thank you. Your cane?

- I think I'll keep it. It might rain.

His lordship waits in the garden.

Follow me, mum.

What class.

Wish we had something like that

at home.

Oh, Ma, somebody would shoot him

before we got him in the house.

Direct from America,

presenting Mrs. Floud and Miss Floud.

So good to see you.

- Hi, earl.

- And more than good to see you.

Come now, meet the family.

This is my mother, Lady Brinstead.

Flattered to meet you,

Lady Brinstead.

- Charmed.

- Do it, Aggie.

Charmed.

And my cousin Rosalind,

Duchess of Dover.

- Charmed.

- How do you do?

Aggie.

- Howdy, duchship.

- How do you do?

His lordship,

the 13th Earl of Brinstead, my father.

- You'd think there was gravy on it.

- Yes, yes. Father. Father!

Forgive Father's enthusiasm.

Told him all about you and that's

his way of showing his approval.

Did you hear that, Aggie?

The earl told his father all about you.

Somebody ought to tell his mother

all about his father.

I hope they find it relaxing here

at Brinstead Manor. Eh, Mother?

- Yes, indeed I do.

- Yes.

Milord? Please.

Cigarette.

Holder.

Light.

That's more service than our

hired man gives us in a month

back in Big Squaw.

Well, Humphrey anticipates

my every wish.

How often do you have to

wind him up?

Wind him up? Oh, wind him up.

Very funny. Jolly good.

- That'll be all. Thank you, Humphrey.

- Thank you.

Well, Mother?

I must compliment George

on his taste.

You know, most young American

tourists are so, so uncouth.

Ain't it the truth. Ain't it, Aggie?

Oh, yeah.

Let's get out of here.

Tennis, anyone?

How can you think of tennis

at a time like this?

Sorry. Thought it was my cue.

Cyril, you forget we have guests.

Mrs. Floud, Miss Floud,

my nephew, Lord Cyril.

How do you do?

- Aggie.

- What?

How do you do?

You'll have to forgive Cyril. Tennis

has become an obsession with him.

Yes.

- How about tea, Mother?

- Oh, of course, dear.

I'll ring.

Did you ring, mum?

I was about to, Humphrey.

Why didn't you wait till I rang?

Imbecile.

Ham.

You know, earl, this is the first time

I ever saw a real English butler.

I saw one in a play.

It was in Cheyenne.

We threw tomatoes at him.

And now we brew some tea.

- Which shall it be?

- What's the difference?

Rather fancy Indian tea is a vital

concoction during inclement weather.

Whereas the Chinese importation

screams with stimulation.

- What did he say?

- Oh, he said,

"Fancy Indian tea is a vital concoction

during inclement weather,

"while Chinese importation

has vital stimulation." Milady?

- That's telling her, Humphrey.

- Thank you.

A knife. Do you have a...? Oh, no.

May I?

This part's the strainer.

Freshly sliced lemon?

Two points.

- One lump or two?

- I'd love two,

but I've been eating so high up on

the hog lately I'd better just take one.

In that case, may I suggest...?

- May I slosh it around a bit, mum?

- Please do.

And so, teatime.

Would you...?

Spot of tea, milady?

Soaked to the skin again!

There's your big splash, Ma.

You shouldn't do that.

Haven't you got any sense at all?

Well, he told me to relax.

You stupid, blundering oaf.

I told you his performance...

- Mater, mater! Please!

- It's piping hot, mum.

How did you ever get to be

such an idiot?

Just early to bed, early to rise.

That's the answer.

Better do something with this.

Unfortunate occurrence

of an unpreventable nature.

Would highly recommend

a cold bath...

- Oh, shut up!

- Oh, no.

You, don't stand there.

Get out and do something.

- Yes, mum. I'll fetch some fresh tea.

- Oh, dear, look at me.

Oh, dear.

Come. I'll help you to change

right away.

Humphrey.

I've been looking for you.

- I wanna chew the fat.

- So soon after tea, mum?

- What do they pay you around here?

- Sufficient, mum.

How about sufficient

and then some?

Are you trying to lure me

from the service of his lordship?

- Exactly!

- Impossible!

I couldn't desert his lordship.

It wouldn't be cricket.

My family always buttled

for the Brinsteads.

My father, my father's father,

my father's father's father.

I could go farther.

More reason you should work for me.

You're in a rut.

Please, mum,

pursue the matter no further.

Even now, the ancestors

are beginning to scowl at me.

- Who's that?

- Great-grandfather, Lord Cedric.

Made a name for himself

in the army.

What's he reaching in his shirt for?

Holding up his trousers

from the inside.

Funny way to pose.

Much funnier if he removed

his hand, mum.

Listen, Humphrey, hanging around

these pictures ain't getting you nothing.

Here's my card.

Drop in my hotel and we'll work out

a deal. Double your salary.

Don't tempt me, mum.

I can resist anything but temptation.

I got a whim of iron, Humphrey.

When I want any...

Wow!

Wow, indeed, mum.

Great-great-grandmother,

splendid horsewoman.

- Did she always ride like that?

- Heavens to Betsy, no.

Lots of times she rode sidesaddle.

Back home in Big Squaw,

she'd be arrested.

She was. That's how she met

great-great-grandfather.

He was the magistrate.

Well, I'll have to carry on, mum.

Now, this hand rests

just lightly on the cue.

- Oh, lightly?

- Oh, yes, lightly.

Of course, this is a game

taught all over England.

Most popular sport.

Playing it or teaching it?

- You know, Agatha...

- What?

You're the most exciting person

I've ever met.

If I only knew the right words,

if I only knew what to do...

May I be of service, milord?

- Shortcut. Sherry, milady?

- Well, don't mind if I do.

- Sherry, milord?

- No, nothing for me, thank you.

- Scotch and soda, milord?

- Nothing at all.

- Scotch and water, milord?

- No.

- A soda and water, milord?

- Nothing at all.

Water and water?

- Scotch over ice, milord?

- Nothing.

Scotch over scotch?

- That will be all.

- Care to play musical glasses?

- They're fun.

- I don't want anything to drink.

Shall I draw the blinds, milord?

Draw your bath?

- Draw your picture?

- Look, Humphrey,

draw whatever you like,

but somewhere else.

- Somewhere else.

- Yes, milord.

Shall I chalk the mum's cue, milord?

Why don't we just give up

until he winds down.

Yes.

I'm terribly sorry.

Now, Agatha, as I was saying...

Announcing Sir Wimbley,

Mrs. Floud, Lady Rosalind...

You should've been with me, Aggie.

Earl's been telling me

all about something.

Oh, billiards!

May I serve the refreshments, mum?

Thank you.

- You know, Aggie...

- What?

I bet Humphrey would make

a gentleman out of your pa.

Take that home with us?

Ma, you got bats in your belfry?

I don't care. I'm gonna get

that Humphrey somehow.

- Oh, Ma.

- If Lady Maude would only fire him.

- Pa would feed him to the pigs.

- Shoot your pool.

- Punch, mum?

- I don't want any.

Well-spiked, mum.

A little punch, mum? Make you feel

fit as a tiddly and ready to wink.

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