You're Telling Me!
- PASSED
- Year:
- 1934
- 66 min
- 51 Views
Is that you, Samuel?
Yes... | Yes, my bun, it's only me.
Is the...
Is the...
Is the dinner | on the table, dear?
On the table and off,
five hours ago!
Don't exaggerate.
It's only the shank | of the evening.
Half past eight.
We will now give you the | correct time. Half past eight.
When you hear the sound of | the gong, it will be exactly...
8:
30. | Take off your hat!Where have you been?
Don't answer! I know | what you're going to say.
"Down at the shop, | working on an invention. "
If you was married | to Thomas Edison...
You're no Edison, | Sam Bisbee.
No, and you're no prophet, | Mrs. Bisbee.
If you've no regard for me,
you might at least have some regard | for your daughter's happiness.
My daughter's the happiest | little girl in the world.
Her silvery laughter rings out | from early morn
till late at night. | Till late at night.
Yeah. | Yes, very late.
But not in her own home, | it doesn't...
Take those shoes | off the table.
Who was putting them | on the table?
Where is she now? | What's she doing?
Who's she with?
I don't have to worry | about my daughter.
Well, | you'd better worry.
She wouldn't be out if she wasn't | ashamed of her home, ashamed of you.
Me? | Look at you.
Suppose she were entertaining | a nice young man in her home,
and you came in | looking like that,
with your shoes off, | your suspenders down,
and your breath | smelling of cheap liquor.
Cheap? Four dollars a gallon.
My daughter ashamed | of my suspenders?
There she is now | with that Bob Murchison,
that no-good...
What did I tell you?
I forgot. | What? Oh, yeah.
Kissing him. | Kissing who?
Bob Murchison. | Who's kissing Bob Murchison?
Pauline, our...
Well, that's life, dear.
Girls will be girls.
When I was a little boy, | I used to kiss little girls.
A rich man's son making | a fool of your daughter,
and you stand there.
No rich man's son will ever make | a fool of Sam Bisbee's daughter.
You might as well | get that in your...
That's the... | Take of that hat!
I'm sorry.
There. There they are, right in my hand.
Good night, Bob.
I know how to solve | our problem.
No, no, Bob.
You won't elope with me?
No.
You won't let me | elope with you?
No.
What's keeping us apart?
Haven't you heard?
The railroad tracks.
Twenty years married to a man | like you is enough for any woman...
Give him a rest, Mom.
What do you mean by staying | out the middle of the...
The middle of half past eight? Who, me?
Yes, you. Running | around with that clown.
Never let it | be said that...
Hey, you left your gadget | on the doorknob.
Your father and I think this thing | between you and that Murchison boy
has gone far enough. | Yes.
He doesn't seem to think so.
He just asked me | to marry him.
Marry him? Darling.
Hey, didn't I tell you? | I knew it all the time.
Oh, shut up!
He really wants to | marry you? Well, why not?
I'm young and healthy and | full of the devil. Pauline!
Sure, | my little daughter
doesn't have to be in a | hurry to marry any man.
Pick and choose, dear.
Liberty is sweet.
Once you're married, | it's just like being in jail.
I guess I'll go to bed.
Look out!
Don't get tangled up | in that thing again.
I won't get tangled up | in nothing.
I'm going upstairs.
It's worse than flypaper.
Might as well have some flypaper | curtains in the house as that...
You know, Charlie, | I've been thinking about...
Look out! | Don't sit down there.
That's another | of my inventions.
It's what I call | the "murder chair. "
When a burglar comes in here | and says, "Stick 'em up,"
I get friendly with him. | I say, "Have a drink. "
Then I invite him | to sit down in the chair.
When he sits in the chair | he releases that lever.
The iron ball comes up
and smites him | upon the sconce,
thus knocking him | deader than a doornail.
Now, don't either of you boys | ever sit in that chair.
Put that down, | will you, Doc?
Soon as I get this tire on the market, | I'll sell a lot of these things.
How's the tire coming, | Sam?
Coming? It's perfected.
Get over there, and I'll | give you a demonstration.
Get over, Doc.
Now, give that wheel a spin.
Good. Now, stand clear, boys.
That's a puncture-proof tire.
Say, that's pretty good.
Pretty good? It's perfect!
I've got nothing to worry about | now for the rest of my life.
Hello. | Hello.
Do I work fast?
My mother is calling on your | mother this afternoon at 4:00.
But, Bob, why? | What happened?
Well, after what you said | last night about my family,
I decided to have it out | with them. I know, darling.
But why does she have | to call on us today?
What'd you say to her?
Nothing much.
I merely said I was going | to marry Pauline Bisbee.
You did? | I did.
And I am.
Mother's very much | interested in meeting you.
I'll bet she is.
Well, I'd better go | and break the news,
and if you see ten women | being carried out of here
kicking and screaming, | that'll be my mother.
Goodbye.
Howdy, boys! | Hello, Bill.
Say, Sam, I got | a special delivery.
Registered airmail letter, | here, for you.
Sam. Sam.
What's the matter with him?
Sound sleeper, | that's all.
Hey, Sam!
Registered letter. | Sign for it.
Sign for me, will you, Doc?
She didn't work out as well | as I thought she would.
Ought to put | a heavier ball on there.
"Samuel Bisbee...
"Dear sir.
"Your letter, at hand, regarding | your Bisbee Puncture-Proof Tire.
"If you care to demonstrate | your invention to our company,
"the Board will meet you | Saturday, June 12, at 2:00,
"in our main office. "
That's great, Sam!
Yes, I guess I finally | put one over. Yes, sir.
Come on, Charlie, | help me get this tire off.
Mrs. Bisbee? | I'm Mrs. Murchison.
How do you do?
Won't you come in, please? | Thank you.
So nice of you to call, | Mrs. Murchison. Not at all.
I'm sure you understand | why I'm here.
My daughter told me | you were coming.
It's about your daughter I've | come to see you, Mrs. Bisbee.
I suppose you already know | that my son,
who is very young | and unsophisticated,
has been... Shall I | say, taken in by her?
Has been what?
Well, fascinated by her.
Now he even talks of | wanting to marry her.
Of course, with his social position, | his family and his future...
In short, the whole affair's | absurd, and I've come to...
And why is it absurd that your son | should want to marry my daughter?
The women of the Warren family | have always been above reproach.
That is history.
The Warren family?
You don't mean | the Warrens of Virginia?
My grandfather was General | Robert Henry Warren of Virginia.
Not really!
There, | you can see for yourself.
Well, this is a surprise.
Of course, | you wouldn't recognize me.
I'm the baby on his lap.
That was taken on the veranda of | our old homestead in Warrenton.
You're sure this album | belongs to you?
Quite sure. | Oh, yes, yes, yes.
Then your daughter Pauline | is really a Warren!
Well, of course, | that puts the whole affair
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"You're Telling Me!" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 26 Dec. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/you're_telling_me!_23878>.
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