Heaven Can Wait Page #4

I'll swear by the extra six dollar

I get from Madame.

Gosh. This is a wonderful age

I'm living in.

Oui. So you do not

have to worry about little girl.

Oh, I've forgotten about her already.

I guess I'm pretty blas.

- Listen, Frenchy.

- What is it, my friend?

If that's the way things are in 1887...

what do you think's gonna

happen in 1888?

Aha. We make that the subject

of our first French lesson.

Au revoir, monsieur.

- Mother.

- Yes, my baby.

That girl is worth the extra six dollars.

The pride

of all the Van Cleves was my cousin Albert.

He was the fulfiillment of a parent's dream.

Always the highest in his class.

Never had he thrown a stone into a window.

Nor did he ever put a mouse

in his teacher's bustle.

His ears were always clean.

This, I think, will give you

a rough idea of Albert.

And I'll never forget

the morning of my 15th birthday.

The presents were waiting for me

in the living room.

But suddenly Father came running

down the stairs, excited and breathless.

Flogdell! Flogdell!

Yes, Mr. Van Cleve.

Tell Robinson to go immediately

and get Dr. Macintosh.

- Tell him our little Henry is ill.

- Yes, sir.

Oh, my poor baby.

The boy's acting so strangely, Randolph.

Randolph.

Now, Bertha, Bertha.

We must keep a stiff upper lip.

Randolph, he's talking all the time

as if he were in a delirium.

- What does the boy seem to be saying?

- Well, if I only knew, Randolph.

- He's talking French. Nothing but French.

- French?

Oh, Randolph.

Our boy, delirious in a foreign language.

Now, Bertha, Bertha. This is an emergency.

We must do everything step-by-step.

The next move is to find out what the boy is saying.

Uh - Uh, Flogdell.

- Yes, sir.

- Tell Mademoiselle to come to Master Henry's room immediately.

Very good, sir.

If only Grandpa would let me rub

just a bit of garlic on his little chest.

Stay away from that boy with your garlic.

The boy's sick enough.

Randolph, did you hear that?

Did you hear that, Grandpa?

I'm not deaf.

The child's poisoned.

That's what it is.

Oh, Randolph. What shall we do?

Oh, what shall we do?

Now, now. There's only one thing

to do, Bertha - keep a stiff upper lip.

But that won't help

that poor poisoned boy.

If I had my way,

I know what I'd do.

A big glass of cold water right in that boy's face,

and I think he'd start talking English.

- Hugo, you barbarian.

- Oh, no! Please, please!

- You'll give him pneumonia.

- You mustn't do that.

- Please, you mustn't -

- He might -

- Oh, Mademoiselle.

- Did Madame send for me?

Yes, Mademoiselle.

Our little Henry.

- He's sick?

- Yes, Mademoiselle.

Oh. Excuse, Madame.

I'll be right back.

- Oui, Madame?

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