Topper Page #4

another engagement.

You understand, don't you?

Yes, I'm afraid I do.

Why don't you stop being a mummy

for a few minutes and come to life?

There's nothing wrong in being a mummy

if you had any fun in getting that way-

But I- I didn't, you see.

No, I can tell that by the

way you're staring at my knees.

Why, I-I never stared

at a knee in my life.

That's probably just

what's wrong with you.

Of course, I... I suppose I do envy

the way you and George do things.

But it would never do for me,

for a man in my position.

Then as Mrs. Topper says-

Ah, as Mrs. Topper says.

That's the situation

and the box it came in.

Oh. Oh.

Hello, honey. Never mind. I

found her. She's running the bank.

Huh?

George, look.

What's the matter with him? He's old

enough to know what's the matter with him.

"Liabilities, no cents,

assets. "

Topper, I know just the thing

for the two of us. Where is it?

But something's biting the man, eating

him from the inside. Maybe termites.

What sort of a woman is Mrs.

Topper? Don't tell me. I'll guess.

Is she the horsey type? No.

The tennis type? No.

I know. She's the kin type.

Arranges your diets, fixes your clothes,

tells you what you'll eat and where you'll go.

Well, to a certain extent,

yes. Where do you keep it?

Keep what? The bottle. Don't

tell me there isn't a bottle here?

Of course there isn't a bottle.

This is a business office.

Business is all right, but don't you

think that's carrying business too far?

Come on. Let's roll.

I don't wanna leave Topper.

Somehow I feel if I could pull him

apart, I could put him together...

and he'd work much better.

Catch.

Topper, take my advice. Don't let

her make a guinea pig out of you.

You'll never be the same again.

So long.

Hmm. Mrs. Kerby's handkerchief.

Oh. Thank you.

I'm ready, Mr. Topper.

Hmm. Yes, yes.

H. Greg & Company, 80

Milk Street, Boston, Mass.

Dear sir. Yours is

the ninth received and-

Fascinating woman,

Marion Kerby, isn't she?

She reminds me of an Easter egg

I had as a small boy.

- An Easter egg?

- Mm-hmm.

Those frosty ones, you know, with a peephole

in it. You looked through and saw an angel.

I wonder why Marion Kerby

reminds me of an angel.

Uh, yes, where were we?

Maybe we'd better

start over.

The angel was a blond too.

You're driving us crazy way out here. I

mean, you're crazy to drive us way out here.

We could be at the apartment

sleeping our ears off.

The apartment's too close to

that bank. It's in the same city.

Why do you pick on the bank?

It doesn't pick on you.

That stuffed egg that runs it

does. Stuffed eggs, I love 'em.

You never know what's in 'em

till you take a bite.

Take a bite out of Topper for

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