The Man Who Came to Dinner Page #2

- Isn't there a back entrance?

- Why, yes.

Well, then use that.

I shall also require a room

for my secretary.

There'll be a great many

incoming and outgoing calls...

...so please do not use the telephone.

I sleep until noon

and must have quiet until that hour.

There'll be five for lunch today.

Where's the cook?

- Mr. Whiteside, if I may interrupt...

- You may not, sir.

Will you take your clammy hand

off my chair?

You have the touch

of a love-starved cobra.

And now, will you all leave quietly,

or must I ask Miss Cutler...

...to pass among you

with a baseball bat?

- Now, look here...

- There is nothing to discuss, sir.

Considering the damage I suffered,

I'm asking very little. Good day.

- I'll call you from the office later, Daisy.

- Not on this phone, please.

- Here is the menu for lunch.

- But I... I've ordered lunch.

It'll be sent up to you on a tray.

I'm using the dining room for my guests.

Where are those cigarettes?

Why, my... My son went to get them.

I don't know why... Here, Sarah,

here's the menu for lunch.

- I'll have mine on a tray upstairs.

- Yes, ma'am.

Young lady, I cannot stand indecision.

Will you either go up those stairs

or come down them?

Good morning. I'm sorry I'm so late.

I had to go to three different stores.

How did you travel, by oxcart?

Richard.

Is there any man

who suffers as I do...

...from the gross inadequacies

of the human race?

Where are you going?

Keep those canal boats

away from me.

Go read The Life

of Florence Nightingale...

...and learn how unfitted you are

for your chosen profession.

Well, I think I can safely leave you

in Miss Cutler's capable hands.

- Shall I look in again this afternoon?

- If you do, I shall spit right in your eye.

What a sense of humor

you writers have.

Oh, by the way, it's really

not worth mentioning...

...but I've been doing a little writing

myself about my medical experiences.

Am I to be spared nothing?

Would it be too much to ask you

to glance over it while you're here?

- Trapped.

- Why...

Well, I just happen to have

a copy of it with me.

Forty Years an Ohio Doctor.

The story of a humble practitioner.

I shall drop everything.

I'm much obliged. I hope you like it.

Well, I'll see you on the morrow.

Keep that hip quiet

and don't forget those little pills.

Maggie, will you take

Forty Years an Ohio Butcher...

...or whatever it's called?

I must say, you have certainly behaved

with your accustomed grace and charm.

I'm in no mood to discuss my behavior,

good or bad.

I didn't wish to cross

this cheerless threshold.

I was hounded and badgered into it.

Now I find myself,

after two weeks of wracking pain...

...accused of behaving without charm.

What would you have me do,

kiss them?

Very well, Sherry.

After 10 years, I should know better

than to try and improve your manners.

When I finally leave this job,

I may write a book about it.

Through the Years

with Prince Charming.

Listen, repulsive, if we may

dismiss the subject of my charm...

...for which, incidentally, I receive

$ 1500 per appearance...

...possibly we can get to work.

Oh, no, we can't.

My name is Harriet Stanley.

I know you are Sheridan Whiteside.

I saw this holly framed green

against the pine trees.

I remembered what you'd written

about Tess and Jude the Obscure.

It was the nicest present

I could bring you.

- And what, may I ask, was that?

- That was Mr. Stanley's sister, Harriet.

I talked to her a few times.

She's strange.

Strange? She's right out of

The Hound of the Baskervilles.

- I've seen that face before somewhere.

- Nonsense. You couldn't have.

Oh, well. Let's get to work. Here.

Press this in the doctor's book. Did you

put through the call to Mrs. Roosevelt?

I called her in Portland,

but she'd already left for San Diego.

Try her tomorrow in Phoenix.

Now, let me see.

Send a wire to the editor

of The Atlantic Monthly:

"Do not worry, Stinky.

Copy will arrive on time. Whiteside."

Send a cable to

the Duchess of Windsor:

"Dear Wally, can you and David meet

me in Miami, February 20th?

Dinner, 8:
30. Whiteside."

I see no reason why I should endorse

Snug-Fit brassiere.

- What date's this?

- December 10th.

Send a wire to

American Broadcasting:

"Schedule my Christmas Eve broadcast

from your New York studio...

...as I shall return East instead

of proceeding to Hollywood. Stop.

For New Year's Eve broadcast,

we'll have as guests...

...Jascha Heifetz, Helen Hayes,

Schiaparelli, the Lunts, Dr. Alexis Carrel.

With Haile Selassie on shortwave

from Addis Ababa. Whiteside."

Well, what do you want now,

Miss Stomach Pump?

It's your pills. One every 45 minutes.

Thermometer puss.

If that's for Mrs. Stanley,

tell them she's too drunk to talk.

Hello? Yes.

What? Palm Beach?

Oh, just a moment.

It's your dear friend,

Miss Lorraine Sheldon.

Oh, give it to me.

Hello.

Is this my blossom girl?

Sherry, you poor, sweet darling.

Are you all right?

I haven't been able to think

of anything else...

...since this awful thing happened.

You poor lamb.

- You fool!

- Sorry, madame.

No, no. That was Cosette.

Darling, how you must have suffered.

I know. I know.

Me? Oh, I'm wretched.

I can't find a play, Sherry, dear.

I just don't think I'll ever act again.

Tell me, blossom, what made you take

your white body to Palm Beach?

- Who's holding you captive?

- Oh, Lord Bottomley's in from London.

Some mission or other.

Now, look, darling.

Take care of that sweet little hip,

will you?

And here's a big kiss

from your blossom girl.

Sorry, madame.

- Goodbye, darling.

- Goodbye, my lotus blossom.

"My lotus blossom."

Little Miss Stinkweed.

Pure jealousy if I ever saw it.

Give me those wires.

Lorraine Sheldon, Lord Bottomley,

my Aunt Fanny.

If these people intend their friends

to use the front door...

What should they use,

a rope ladder?

I will not have itinerant firemen

rushing in and out of this house.

- Good morning, Mr. Jefferson.

- Morning, John. Mr. Whiteside in?

- Yes, sir.

- There's nobody home.

The Stanleys have been arrested

for peddling dope. Go away.

Good morning. I'm Jefferson

of the Mesalia Journal.

- Remember? I met you at the station.

- Get rid of him, Maggie.

I'm sorry, Mr. Jefferson.

Mr. Whiteside is seeing no one.

- Really?

- So will you excuse us?

Mr. Whiteside seems to be sitting up

and taking notice.

I'm afraid he's not taking notice

of the Mesalia Journal.

If I'm gonna be insulted,

I'd like it to be by Mr. Whiteside.

- I never did like carbon copies.

- Oh, touch, if I ever heard one.

- And in Mesalia too, Maggie, dear.

- Will you please leave?

- How about an interview, Mr. Whiteside?

- I never give them. Go away.

If I don't get this interview,

I lose my job.

- That would be all right with me.

- You don't mean that, Mr. Whiteside.

You used to be a newspaper man.

You know what editors are like.

- Mine's the toughest one ever.

- You won't get around me that way.

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