The Big Store Page #4

Why, the whole thing is utterly ridiculous.

Now, I'll ask you a simple question.

It's bargain day. The store is crowded.

A woman faints. What do you do?

How old is she?

What difference does it make?

- Hear that?

A woman's life is in danger, and he asks,

"What difference does it make?"

And that charlatan is running your store?

Martha, I'd fire him immediately.

If Miss Phelps were not my fiance,

I would tender my resignation

and walk out for good. - Oh, no, no.

Fiance?

- Yes!

You mean that a woman of your culture

and beauty and money and wealth,

and money would marry

that impostor?

Just a moment. What's the idea

of prowling around here?

Why, that's Tommy Rogers.

- Oh, how are you, Tommy?

No, I'm Tommy Rogers.

- Well, how are you? - How do you do?

I'm Ravelli. I'm Tommy's

bodyguard.

You're Tommy...? I'm Tommy's bodyguard.

And I've just been engaged.

You'll excuse me.

So you all been engaged, huh? - Of course.

Here's my $ 5 deposit to prove it.

Well, keep the $ 5.

I'll guard Tommy for nothing.

Scab.

- I heard that.

You're not a floorwalker.

You're a so-called bodyguard.

What does this mean?

- Why, l...

I felt Tommy needed a real, experienced

detective to safeguard him, so I...

So she hired me, the greatest

detective since Sherlock Holmes.

I'm crazy about Sherlock Holmes. - It won't

do you any good. He's got a wife and kids.

So this man is a detective?

- Yes.

Mr. Flywheel.

- Just call me Wolf.

You revealed yourself. You've spoiled everything.

And after you promised not to tell.

How could I keep from telling the world

of your beauty and my feelings about you?

She walks in beauty. Like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies.

Why, that's Byron.

He was thinking of you

when he wrote it.

Wolf, do you remember this?

Thou friend, whose presence

on my wintry heart,

Fell, like bright spring,

upon some herbless plain.

Shelley?

- Shelley.

They're not writing

that kind of stuff anymore.

Here's a little something to you.

"Your eyes so blue, your heart so true,

Your lips divine,

say you'll be mine.

Wolf, where did you ever learn

to write such beautiful poetry?

I worked five years for

"Burma-Shave".

What is this man? A detective,

a floorwalker or a poet?

All three and not bad

at making love, eh, Martha?

I can't stand this any longer,

and I won't stand it.

Just a moment, Mr. Grover.

If my aunt wants this man to be

my bodyguard, it's okay with me.

Mr. Flywheel, my life is

in your hands.

I wouldn't be happy here.

I'm not appreciated.

Not appreciated?

Why, I think you're great.

What do you...?

What do you really think of me?

Well, I think you're wonderful.

- Do you...?

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