On Moonlight Bay Page #5

Here, Wesley, maybe this'll make you

breathe a little easier.

Gee, thanks! I feel fine now!

I'm not interrupting anything, am I?

Why, Father,

I thought you'd gone back to town.

No, I thought I'd like to have

a little talk with William

before he leaves for college

and his studies of... Law?

- No, sir, not law.

- Then it must be medicine.

Well, a doctor these days can support

a wife and a family very nicely.

Father.

- I major in English literature.

- Oh, I see.

Well, we can find something else for you.

What do you think of banking?

Well, frankly, sir, I feel that every bank

in the country should be blown up.

Tea? Would anyone care for some tea?

Iced tea, Father?

What did you say, young man?

Well, I didn't mean it literally, sir.

It's just that every thinking person knows

that banks are completely

unproductive and unnecessary.

Why, they're parasites on society.

I'd like some tea. Wouldn't you, William?

Unnecessary and unproductive?

- And, I can prove it.

- Oh, you can?

- Yes, sir, I can.

- Lemon or cream?

Do you have some money?

Yes.

Fine. A five-dollar bill.

This is the commodity

in which the banks deal. Money,

the root of all evil.

Now, suppose it were all destroyed.

Has anything really been lost?

Is there any less clothing, less food,

less love in the world now?

Young man...

William, Father is vice president

of the First National Bank!

Holy cow! Did I do this?

Marjorie, get in the house!

Father, it's nothing serious. it's just

something they teach William at college.

Well, until they teach him

how to support a wife,

I suggest you find yourself

another young man.

Seems to me a person wouldn't sing

so loud in the morning

when they know

another person's got a sick headache.

Seems to me a person always gets

a sick headache on school days.

Well, you wouldn't care

if I went to the hospital

and had to be operated on, I suppose.

How many times do I have to call you?

Miss Marjorie, your breakfast is ready.

All right, Stella.

I just want to finish this letter.

Finish it later.

We're not serving Ia carte, you know.

All right.

You, too. You're gonna be late for school.

You eat every bit of that cereal.

You're a growing boy and you need it.

I hate it!

Stella, dust off the piano.

Hubert Wakely is coming to call again.

Men have been buzzing around here

like flies ever since you gave up baseball.

This place is beginning to look like

the YMCA on a rainy afternoon.

Your father seems to think very highly

of Mr. Wakely.

Why wouldn't he?

Hubert is steady, reliable,

has a fine job teaching music

and he's just as stuffy as Father.

- Marjie!

- Well, he is.

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