Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House Page #5

JIM:

...Who did this?

INSERT NEWSPAPER, a section of which has been cut out.

BACK TO SCENE.

BETSY:

(very matter-of-factly)

I did.

She holds out her hand to Joan, who, automatically, and

without looking up hands her the salt.

JIM:

I have repeatedly told you --

(ducking as Gussie

comes back with coffee)

-- don't cut up the morning paper

until I've had a chance to look at

it!

BETSY:

I'm sorry, father. It's necessary

research.

She hands the salt back to Joan who automatically passes it

to Muriel.

JIM:

(with some sarcasm)

I suppose this is another of Miss

Stellwagon's so-called Progressive

Projects?

MURIEL:

(using salt and handing

it to Jim)

Now dear, there just isn't any point

in sending your children to an

expensive school if you're going to

undermine the teacher's authority in

your own dining room.

JIM:

I'm not undermining anything. I happen

to be in the advertising business

and keeping abreast of the times is

important to me.

MURIEL:

And so is your children's education.

JIM:

That's not the point.

MURIEL:

It certainly is.

JIM:

It certainly is not!

JOAN:

(without looking up

from her magazine)

Bicker, bicker, bicker.

JIM:

You eat your cornflakes!

Jim ducks as Gussie passes back on her way to the kitchen.

MURIEL:

(handing Joan toast)

Joan, every time your father and I

have a lively discussion we aren't

necessarily bickering.

(to Betsy; solicitously)

What is it, dear, another English

composition?

BETSY:

(taking toast from

Joan)

Miss Stellwagon has assigned each of

us to take a want ad and write a

human interest theme about it.

(to Jim; passing toast

to him)

I found one typical of the

disintegration of our present society.

JIM:

(taking toast, not

looking up from his

paper)

I wasn't aware of the fact that our

society was disintegrating.

BETSY:

I didn't expect you to be, father.

Miss Stellwagon says that middle-

class people like us are all too

prone to overlook the pressures and

tensions which befall the less

fortunate members of our community.

Jim puts down the paper, turns to Muriel.

JIM:

(with great restraint)

Muriel, I know it's asking a lot,

but just one morning I would like to

sit down and have breakfast without

social significance!

Picks up his paper.

MURIEL:

Jim, you really might take a little

more interest in your children's

education.

JOAN:

(without looking up)

You can't squeeze blood from a turnip.

Jim reacts with painful resignation, folds his arms, puts

down the paper, turns slowly to Betsy.

JIM:

All right. All right. I'll listen.

BETSY:

(picking up her

scrapbook)

It's just twenty-four words. But in

simple eloquence it mirrors a minor

tragedy of our times.

JIM:

(quietly)

Well?...

BETSY:

(reading)

"Forced to sell. Farm dwelling, oak

grove, apple orchard, trout stream,

hay fields, four barns, seclusion,

superb view, original beams, paved

highway, acreage...

(with emotion)

Will sacrifice..."

Pause.

JIM:

Go on.

BETSY:

(simply)

That's all.

JIM:

That's all?!

BETSY:

You don't see it, do you, father?

JIM:

No. Fellow wants to sell a house so

he puts an ad in the paper. What did

you expect him to do, take it to the

United Nations!

MURIEL:

There must be more to it than that.

(to Betsy)

Isn't there, dear?

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