Mr. Smith Goes To Washington Page #25

PAINE:

And Honest Abe's ideals. A rare man--

these days.

The scene dissolves to JEFF'S OUTER OFFICE, at night, with

Saunders at her desk, as McGann comes charging in, perspired

and bothered.

MCGANN:

Well! Hear anything? Any sign of

him?

SAUNDERS:

How'd you like a punch in the nose?

MCGANN:

(startled)

What! Who?

SAUNDERS:

That's what he's been doing since

last heard from.

MCGANN:

Whaddaya mean! What did *I* have to

do with it? I don't blame the guy.

(Sinking into chair,

exhausted)

Wow! Twenty-four hours in this town

and nothing but dog-fights! And things

aren't bad enough--last night I have

to get a run-around from some wise

dame--

SAUNDERS:

(innocently, slipping

over a southern accent)

My, my--you sho' are pahwerfully

upset, Mister McGann--but you' awfully

cute.

MCGANN:

Yeah? Well, when I get my hands on a

red-headed doll with a southern lingo,

I'll--

He breaks off--her southern accent just sinking through. The

look he throws is quietly terrific. At this instant, a lively,

whistled rendition of "Dixie"--out in the corridor--breaks

in on them.

As the door is swung open, JEFF bursts in, marching in step

to his spirited whistle. He marches right up to the astounded

Saunders and McGann--and finishes his whistle with a flourish.

JEFFERSON:

(in high spirits)

You should hear our Ranger Band rattle

that off--if you want to *hear*

something! Good evening, Miss

Saunders. Good evening Mister McGann.

MCGANN:

(finding his voice)

H'ya, Senator. I--I've sorta been

looking for you--

JEFFERSON:

You have?

(Then--quickly)

Will you come in a minute, Miss

Saunders.

He starts for the private office.

MCGANN:

Uh--Senator--I thought you and me

might go out to dinner together--and

grab off a few monuments.

JEFFERSON:

Oh, I couldn't tonight. Thanks a

lot.

Saunders follows Jeff.

In JEFF'S PRIVATE OFFICE: he enters, marching to his desk.

Saunders comes slowly toward him, after closing the door.

SAUNDERS:

Go ahead--punch.

JEFFERSON:

Punch?

SAUNDERS:

I had a lot to do with that little

press conference last night--

JEFFERSON:

(excitedly)

Well, then, I--I *thank* you, Miss

Saunders! Nothing better could have

happened--. Yes *sir*, Miss Saunders,

we're going right ahead with it!

SAUNDERS:

We're going right ahead with--*what*?

JEFFERSON:

Why, the Bill--the Bill--to make a

National Boys' Camp...

SAUNDERS:

One moment, Senator. Do I understand

you're going to present a *Bill*?

JEFFERSON:

Sure! A Bill. Senator Paine and I

decided it was the one way in the

world I could make myself--

SAUNDERS:

Pardon me. Senator Paine decided

this *with* you?

JEFFERSON:

Yes. Sure. It was his idea. *I* should

have been the one to think of it--

SAUNDERS:

My dear Senator, have you the faintest

idea of what it takes to get a Bill

passed?

JEFFERSON:

I know--but you--you're going to

help.

SAUNDERS:

If I were *triplets*, I couldn't--.

Look, Senator--let me give you a

rough idea. A member has a Bill in

mind--like you--a camp. Right?

JEFFERSON:

Right.

SAUNDERS:

Fine. Now, what does he do? He's got

to sit down first and write it up.

The where, when, why, how--and

everything else. That takes time--

JEFFERSON:

Oh, but this one is so simple.

SAUNDERS:

I see. *This* one is so simple--

JEFFERSON:

And with your help--

SAUNDERS:

Oh, yes. And *I'm* helping. Simple--

and I'm helping. So we knock this

off in record-breaking time of--let's

say three or four days--

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