You're Telling Me!

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.

Say, you little night owl.

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.

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