Original subtitles

♪ I’m always ♪

♪ Chasing rainbows ♪

♪ Watching clouds ♪

♪ Drifting by ♪

♪ My schemes ♪

♪ Are just like all my dreams... ♪

Father!

Come over here!

Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!

Look at both of you.

I think you’ve gotten taller since last week, when I saw you at Grandma’s.

Who’s the tallest? Let’s play who’s grown the best.

Me, me, me. Yep, two inches for Veda...

Daddy’s, here, Mommy. ...and two, maybe three for Ray.

Father. Say there, Mildred.

Just thought I’d drop by for a little visit,

maybe pick up a couple of things I left in the desk.

Well, I’m glad you did.

Shall we all go in the den?

Yes. Father. There’s an idea.

These two treating you all right, Mildred?

Make yourself comfortable.

They both had very good report cards this term.

And Veda’s doing splendidly on her piano practice.

I’m learning the "Polonaise in A-flat" by Chopin.

It’s such a wonderful piece, Father.

I can’t wait for you to hear it.

Guess all those matinées your mother dragged us to

at the Hollywood Bowl paid off in the end.

Look, Daddy, see what I wear at the pageant at school.

"Queen of May Pageant," it’s called.

Doesn’t it look like real gold?

It sure does.

Betty Troke is May Queen,

which is perfectly ridiculous, if you ask me,

even if she did just move from Pasadena.

That’s because Veda thinks she should be it. Oh.

That is not true. That is a lie. Veda.

Oh, Daddy. Can I show Daddy my new sand bucket

Grandpa got me? Grandpa got me a sand bucket.

It has a tiger and a clown.

Well, the bucket’s in the garage, dear.

Let’s show it to him later, hmm?

Aren’t you terribly thirsty, Father?

Mother, would you like me to open the Scotch?

Scotch? Yes, Daddy.

We’re going to have a drink. We’re going to get drunk.

Well, I might be able to stand a drink.

Yay! Drink, drink, drink. Daddy’s gonna drink.

I’m gonna drink. I’m gonna drink.

Can I help you, Mother?

Who asked you to go snooping around my closet for liquor?

I didn’t know there was any secret about it.

And hereafter, I’ll do the inviting.

But, Mother, it’s Father.

Don’t stand there and pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.

You know you had no business saying what you did.

I could tell by the cheeky look on your face.

Very well, Mother. It shall be as you say.

And stop that silly way of talking.

Just the same, there was none of this stinginess

when Father was doing the inviting.

Things have truly changed around here.

One might think peasants have taken over the house.

Do you even know what a peasant is?

A peasant...

is a very ill-bred person.

...around the house,

or are you going to show me what it looks like?

Sometimes, Veda,

I wonder if you have good sense.

Go on.

Oh, Veda, no, we weren’t talking about you at all.

These children are turning into

such rummies these days.

I don’t know what the younger generation is coming to.

Father, you switched them. You always switch them.

We want the stiff ones.

Those are the stiff ones.

So, Father, what’s your opinion on the current economic conditions?

Do you think things will be improving anytime soon?

Well, that’s a fine question, Veda, it truly is.

Hoover’s not out of it yet, I’ll tell you that much.

And while it’s not looking rosy anytime soon,

I do see some signs of improvement--

Capone, Lindbergh all the way to China.

Father, I’m serious.

Look, I’m drunk. I’m drunk.

Can’t you control her?

Father.

♪ I went to the animals’ fair ♪

♪ The birds and the beasts were there ♪

♪ The big baboon in the light of the moon ♪

♪ Was combing his auburn hair... ♪

She’s going to--

♪ And jumped on the elephant’s trunk ♪

♪ The elephant sneezed and fell to his knees ♪

♪ That’s what became of the monk, the monk, the monk ♪

Watch--

All right, all right, all right.

It’s time for bed for both monketys, hmm?

How about their father tucks them in?

Yes, yes.

Father, do I have to?

It’s so late. You know your mother.

Can you at least read to us,

from Robert Louis Stevenson?

You, uh, got what you needed from the desk?

Yeah, I...

You drop something?

My key.

It was in my pocket. I always put it in my--

Come to think of it,

maybe I took that key.

You what?

I took it.

Give me it. I gotta go home.

No, I won’t.

I’m not gonna give it to you.

And there is no use trying to take it from me,

because I need it now and you don’t.

What are you talking about? That car’s mine.

I don’t care whose it is.

I’m working and I need it.

And if you think I’m gonna

pound around on my feet

and ride buses and lose all that time and be a sap

while you lay up with another woman,

enjoying the high life, well, you’re quite mistaken.

You’re working? Yes.

I got a job. And don’t ask me where.

Somebody had to.

Well, why didn’t you say so?

Fine.

Then it’s settled.

Thank you.

I can ride you back, if you like.

Appreciate it very much.

You staying with Maggie?

Prefer not to say where I’m staying.

I’m staying where I’m staying.

But you can drop me off at Maggie’s.

That’s fine.

Good night.

BLT, high and dry, three eggs, wreck ’em.

Waitress 2: I need a full house, hold the pickle.

Waitress 3: I need two specials, Archie.

Waitress 4: Where’s my livers?

Where’s my shrimp?

Archie, where’s my shrimp?

I told you, don’t keep me waiting.

Now, now.

Now is right.

You call this pie?

Sorry, Mr. Rice.

A special straw for the little one.

Oh, thank you. That’s just what she needs.

Say, Millie,

what do you say, I take you out some night?

Oh, no, Mr. Rand. I want you to keep liking me.

Oh, I’ll keep liking you, honest.

You might feel differently if I wasn’t dressed in a uniform.

I’m that ashamed of putting this on the table.

I’m that ashamed to ask a customer to eat it.

It’s just despicable, the pie you put out here and expect people to pay for.

Maybe a pie is lousy, but what you expect, times like this now?

If he no eat, you see me. I okay no check.

Bah!

What does he pay for those pies anyway?

If he pays two bits, he’s getting swindled.

But how much would you say, roughly?

Oh, I don’t know. Why?

Ida,

I make pies and sell them.

Honestly, if he pays anything at all,

I’d meet his price and make him some

that people would really want to eat.

I’d make him pies that’d be a feature.

You bake pies?

I do it all the time. I sold four last week.

Well, why don’t you bring in a sample sometime?

I could do it tomorrow.

You’re serious, aren’t you?

Mm-hmm.

Well, why not?

I know for a fact he wants to switch.

He’s just too bullheaded to admit it.

You heading home? Can I give you a lift?

You have a car?

Well, it goes.

I’ve been knowing it all along,

I had to have a showdown about them pies, and now it’s coming.

So look, tomorrow you bring in three pies,

one apple, one pumpkin and one lemon.

I could do a cherry too.

No, no cherry and no strawberry.

They fall apart too easy. And just three,

no more than three, and I’ll see they get served.

Remember, though, it’s all got to be his idea.

Of course.

And I’ll find out what he pays too.

You leave it to me, Mildred.

You won’t have to say a word.

Ida, you’re a pal.

And one lemon pie.

That’s some meringue you got there.

Man 2: Ma’am, I’d like one of them pieces, too, please.

Nice job on them pies, Mr. Chris. You sure can pick ’em.

I’ll say. And about time too.

I said, "Hold your horses.

"30 cents per pie? You pay that bakery 35."

Yeah, what does he expect? Something more for something less?

And 35 pies a week?

I’m going to need to hire some help.

Honey, at 35 cents a pop, you can almost afford it.

To Mildred, and them pies.

Thank you, Ida. Thank you.

Letty, watch your sleeve.

That’s it. A little faster.

Good afternoon, Mrs. Pierce.

Good afternoon.

Will this be all for you?

Hello?

Letty?

Hello.

Hey, honey. Oh, Lucy.

I’m running to Bullock’s, thought you might want to come along.

Oh, no, I wish I could. Why?

Well, you’ll never guess. Another restaurant contract

dropped in my lap this week.

Another contract? Mm-hmm.

With whom? Mr. Hartman at the Drop Inn.

Baby, you’re taking off.

You said it. I’m a going concern.

Yes, Mrs. Pierce?

Mildred?

Lucy, can I call you back?

I have baking supplies in the car.

Go on. Thanks.

I told her you wouldn’t like it, Mrs. Pierce.

I told her right off the bat. But she hollered

and carried on, so I put it on just to keep her quiet.

Who hollered and carried on?

Well, Miss Veda, Ma’am.

Miss Veda?

That’s what she says I should call her.

And she told you to put on that uniform?

Yes’m.

What on earth does she think she--?

Veda!

Look, Mommy. I’m a public enemy.

So I see.

Veda.

That uniform Letty’s wearing...

Look.

I ain’t so tough.

Where did you find it? And why is Letty wearing it?

Why?

Those uniforms were on the top shelf of my closet,

under a pile of sheets.

Once again, you were snooping into my things

to see what you could find, weren’t you?

I was looking for a handkerchief. Weren’t you?

I was not, and I resent the accusation.

Then... Then how did it happen to end up on Letty?

I merely assumed, Mother, that you’d bought them for Letty.

And if she was going to be taking my things to the pool,

I assumed you wanted her decently dressed.

To the pool? What things?

My swimming things.

She always walks two steps behind us to the bus

and carries our bags both ways.

What? And does she go in swimming?

No, sir. Because she can’t swim.

She can’t swim and she’ll get drownded.

And Red will have to pull her out.

He’s the lifeguard and he’s stuck on her.

Mrs. Pierce.

What--?

That-- that-- that-- that’s enough.

I’ll be right there, Letty.

Really, Mother, it seems to me

you’re making a great fuss over nothing.

If you bought the uniforms for Letty,

and certainly I can’t imagine who else you bought them for,

then why shouldn’t she wear them?

It’s time for your bath.

No, no! No, no, no, no, no!

Stop squirming. No, no.

♪ ...even make a gain ♪

♪ Believe me ♪

♪ I’m always ♪

♪ Chasing rainbows ♪

♪ Waiting for a little bluebird ♪

♪ In vain ♪

Don’t be mad at Veda, Mommy.

She just likes pretending.

I know she does.

All right, head back.

Veda.

Gracious, Mother. You startled me.

Why did you give Letty that uniform?

For heaven’s sake, Mother,

haven’t I told you once?

How often do I have to tell you?

I’m going to bed.

You knew, when you gave it to her,

that it was mine, didn’t you?

That it was my uniform.

Your uniform?

Yes.

It so happens

that I’ve taken a job

in a restaurant in Hollywood.

As a what?

As a waitress, as you well know.

Ye Gods. Ye Gods.

Oh, stop that. Ye Gods and little fishes.

So you and your sister can eat and have a place to live

and a few clothes on your backs.

I’ve taken the only kind of job I can get.

And if you think I’m going to listen to a lot

of silly nonsense from you about it, then you’re quite mistaken.

And if you think your nonsense is going to make me

give up the job, then you’re mistaken about that too.

How you ever found out what I was doing, I do not know.

From the uniform, stupid. Do you think I’m dumb?

You may not realize it, young lady,

but everything you have costs money,

from the maid you ordered

to go traipsing with you to the pool,

to your food and clothes and everything else.

And as I don’t see anyone else doing anything about it around here--

Aren’t the pies bad enough?

Did you have to go and degrade us all by becoming a waitress?

That...

That’s quite enough!

No!

Ow!

No!

A waitress.

You don’t ever give me credit for any...

any finer feelings, do you?

Oh, Mother, cut the Penny Dreadful dramatics.

You’re working in a--

in Hollywood.

It’s fine. I’ll try not to think about it.

The truth is...

I’ve felt exactly the same as you.

And I never would have taken the job to begin with,

if it hadn’t been that I...

that I’ve decided to open a place of my own...

and had to learn the business

from the ground up.

That’s the reason I took the job in the first place.

What do you-- what do you mean, a place of your own?

A restaurant, of course.

There’s money in a restaurant,

if you run it right.

You know how to run a restaurant?

Well, yes. Well...

I’m learning. I’m learning how.

What kind of restaurant?

I don’t know exactly.

But something nice.

Something we can be proud of.

A fine restaurant?

Well, yes, of course.

As fine as it could be.

Oh, Mother.

Mother, forgive me for being so wretched before.

I’m sorry I acted so horribly.

I-- I think it’s just wonderful--

just wonderful, what you’re planning, truly I do.

Oh, I know, dear.

And I know you’ll do wonderfully well.

I’m certain of it.

Oh, Veda.

What is it, Mother?

Nothing, dear.

It’s just that you were right and I was wrong.

No matter what I say,

no matter what anybody says,

never give that up--

that way you have of looking at things.

I can’t help it, Mother.

It’s how I feel.

I know it is.

And from now on,

things are going to get better for us.

I’m certain they will.

So we’ll have what we want.

Maybe we won’t be rich, but we’ll have something.

And it’ll all be on account of you.

I love you, Mother, truly I do.

Every good thing that happens

is on account of you.

If your mother only had sense enough to know it.

I said hold the mayo, Archie.

You never listen. Now I gotta go

talk to these people. You have no idea.

I’m still waiting on those pork chops.

Waitress 2: Chicken-fried steak, onions. Baked apple with cream.

Meat, meat. I need meat.

We changed the print on the menus.

Archie, I need two chicken cutlets.

Ah!

Poached eggs on toast, cinnamon toast,

hot chocolate, ham and eggs, sliced pineapple.

Say, Wally,

you wouldn’t want to help me with something, would you?

Not particularly.

I’d have to have it soon-- tomorrow maybe.

What is it?

I don’t know what you’d call it exactly.

An estimate of costs, something like that,

for a man who might back me in business.

But I want it all written down

with the right words for what I mean,

so it looks proper, businesslike.

What kind of business?

Just a little restaurant,

something I’ve been thinking about.

Wait a minute. Hold on. Start over,

at the beginning, not in the middle.

Just something small

where I could do all the cooking,

but a place where all we serve is chicken.

Think about it.

They have steak places and fish places.

But down where I work practically every other order is for chicken.

So a chicken place-- well, looks to me

as though I’d have plenty of customers.

And I wouldn’t have to fool with all those à la carte prices

or bookkeeping or menus or anything like that.

Everybody gets a chicken-and-waffle dinner,

or chicken and vegetables, if they like,

but all at the same price.

And then I’d have the pies to take out,

and keep on getting all the wholesale pie business that I can.

And, well, looks to me as though one would help the other.

Who’s the guy? This old fogy

who eats lunch with me every day-- Mr. Rand.

But... but I think he’s got money.

If I can show him it could be an investment,

perhaps he’d be interested, you know, and--

Listen, do you really think you can put this across?

Why? Don’t you?

I’m asking you.

Well, it seems as though it ought to pay.

That’s the main thing, Wally, about this idea of mine.

What costs in a restaurant is waste,

and the extras, like the printing for the menus

and the-- the people you have to have,

for the features you put in.

But this way, there wouldn’t be any waste.

I think I can put that across, Wally, I do.

If you really think so, Mildred...

I might be able to put you in on a deal,

one that would start you off with such a bang,

you’d be sitting so pretty,

you wouldn’t even need a backer.

You can’t be serious.

Oh, I’m serious all right. Holy smokes, I’m serious.

If you don’t look out, Wally, I’m...

I’m gonna cry.

Seemed like a good idea at the time.

It was actually Bert who thought it up--

build a dream house, so we could show all the prospects

what their place would look like

if they spent twice as much dough

as any of them had.

But now it’s deadweight.

They gotta get rid of it, and if you’ll take it over

with this chicken place, then it’s yours.

And believe me, Mildred, if this isn’t a natural

for a restaurant, I never saw one.

I mean, just look at the place-- dining room.

Right? Come in here.

Pantry, kitchen.

Every stick in the place complies with fire law,

health law. There’s even two toilets.

I mean, if you really mean business, Mildred,

you can have it, lock, stock and barrel.

The fact is, see, they’ve got to establish losses.

Who?

The receivers, on their federal income tax,

due next March, the year 1931.

If they don’t show losses, they’re sunk.

But, Wally, I’d still have to have money.

Who says you would?

That’s the beauty of it, Mildred.

Once you take title to a piece of property in this town,

that’s all anybody cares about.

You get all the credit you want, more than you’ll need.

But why me? Well, who else wants it?

It’s not a house. It’s a real estate office.

Last time I checked, nobody needs one of those.

So it’s got to be somebody who can use it

for something else, and that’s you.

I know, but, Wally,

I just can’t believe there isn’t somebody--

even if they’re just giving it away-- on the inside who...

No, I get what you’re saying, sure.

There were some original incorporators sniffing around,

but they’re not gonna get past the feds.

And with you, it’s the real McCoy.

You’re no insider.

You’re no original incorporator.

You’re...

Oh, goddamn it.

What?

Goddamn it all to hell. Goddamn it!

What? What is it?

Bert.

Bert? What’s he got to do with it?

Bert’s an original incorporator.

Well?

And you’re married to him.

And there goes your restaurant.

And there goes the prettiest little deal

I had a chance to put across since Pierce Homes folded.

Unless you got a divorce.

Is that the only way?

Well, he left you, didn’t he?

Well, I’ll see him.

Listen, Mildred, I’m telling you,

even if it wasn’t for this federal thing,

you’re gonna want to get this cleaned up.

You don’t know where he gets his money. For all you can tell--

I said I’d see him.

I probably know 10 times as much about federal taxes

as Wally Burgan does, and all I can say is,

it sounds to me like a lot of hooey.

It all comes back to a straight question of collusion,

and I can prove to any court--

Bert, Bert, it’s not a question of proving anything to a court.

It’s whether or not they let me have the property.

If I don’t get a divorce, they won’t let me have it.

Oh...

I don’t know what you and Wally think you’re cooking up here, but...

What do you mean, me and Wally?

Oh, forget it. Just forget it.

Listen, I don’t like this any more than you do.

Fine!

Fine.

What I was gonna say before all this other business--

so that you and the kids have a place to sleep at night

and no one can take it away from you--

is that I would give you the house.

You don’t have to do that.

I want to.

Well, if you want to,

then I accept.

Thank you, Bert.

And I’m sorry if I’ve said unkind things in the past,

about Maggie Biederhof.

It’s all right.

I’m sorry I was hard on Wally just then.

And if there is something you feel for him,

why, that’s all right too.

Oh, Bert, please.

Christ, I knew there’d never be anything

between you and that fat slob.

That’s all right.

Well...

I guess all we need to do now

is settle on a cause.

Right.

I guess you’ll have to hit me.

You sound just like Veda.

She’s always wanting to be hit.

Veda is?

Then I’m glad there’s a little of her in me.

All right.

The defendant hit her

and caused her great personal anguish.

Now he says he wants me to have the house too.

What’s wrong with that?

I don’t know.

I feel as though I picked his bones--

first the kids, then the car,

now the house.

Would you kindly tell me what good the house would do him?

First call for interest, he’d lose it flat.

He just looked so damned pitiful.

Oh, they all do, baby. That’s what gets us.

All right, girls. Full steam ahead.

I’m closing up the case.

Do you have my print scarf?

Check.

Don’t forget the umbrella.

Suitcase, thermos and umbrella

will all be there at Gram and Pop’s, when you get home from school.

I just remembered!

Ray, where are you going?

We’re going to be late for school.

Ray, where did you go?

I almost forgot the sand pail Grandpa got me.

Hurry up, dear. You’re going to be late.

I’ll take that. Here are your things.

You girls have a wonderful weekend.

And mind your grandparents. Bye.

Thanks, Mother. We will. Bye.

Bye.

We’ve got-- Good morning, ma’am.

Morning. We’ve got fixtures going in.

Painting started today.

Oh, come see the range.

Oh, now you’re talking!

It’s shaping up, no?

Five days ago I wasn’t so sure, but today...

Well, those announcements, they ought to pull in something too.

Gee, I hope so. What time you got, Wally?

Almost 10:00.

God, I’m gonna be late.

Oh, yeah? For what?

Last day as a working girl.

Morning. Morning.

Sorry I’m late.

Mildred, meet Shirley, the new girl.

Pleased to meet you, Shirley. Very nice to meet you.

That’s mine.

Sit. I got it.

Sit.

Now when you gotta make a customer wait,

you can’t just leave him sitting there,

like you did with that party yesterday.

What the hell am I looking at this for?

Why does anybody ever look at a menu for breakfast?

You know exactly what you’re gonna have, and yet you just keep looking.

To check the prices, of course.

That’s it. Okay, you ready?

Shoot.

Orange juice, oatmeal, bacon and eggs,

fried on one side, but not too much.

Uh, dry toast

and a large coffee. You got that?

Orange juice, oatmeal, bacon and eggs,

fried on one side, but not too much.

Uh, dry toast and a large coffee.

How’d I do?

Very good, and if you could step on it slightly,

why, I might just get to Santa Barbara

in time for a little swim before the sun goes down.

Gee, I wish I could go to Santa Barbara.

Well, come along.

You’d better look out. I might say yes.

So I say to him, I say,

"Soon you’ll have a car that drives itself."

Man 2: No, I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Man 1: They made this thing where you don’t have to even...

Well? I mean it.

I told you to look out. Maybe I did too.

You know what would be a highly original thing for you to do?

What’s that?

Say yes right away, just like that.

Oh my gosh.

Shirley. I’m sorry.

It’s all right. Accidents happen.

I’m real sorry. You drop plates, you pick them up.

I didn’t mean to do it. You drop yourself, you get up.

Have you recovered? Yeah, sorry.

Ida,

I think the real trouble with that girl is me.

I think I make her nervous.

Would it be better if I just slipped out?

Well, I know he’d just love to save a buck.

Of course he would.

All right, Mildred, you run along.

Hey, no kidding, I wish you

all the luck in the world with your little place.

And I promise, I’ll be out there first chance I get.

Thanks, Ida.

What are you grinning about?

Oh, might as well be original once in a while.

Damn it, I like you.

Though I’d have to drop off my car first

in Glendale and grab a few things.

Egads, Glendale.

Comes with the territory.

Well, we’d better get tapping.

We certainly had.

There we are.

I was beginning to think I should contact the police.

Sorry to keep you.

You’re smiling.

Well,

I can’t quite believe I’m doing this.

You don’t do this very often, Missus...?

Pierce.

No, I should say I don’t.

Well, I’m honored you made an exception, Mrs. Pierce.

Any relation to Pierce Homes?

Yes, bravo.

I was married to them for a while.

Oh, how delightful.

Some of the worst homes ever built.

All the roofs leak.

Nothing like how the treasury leaked.

Well, I’m Beragon, Monty.

Pleased to meet you, Monty Beragon.

Make yourself at home.

Thanks.

Beragon...

Is that French?

What?

Beragon.

Spanish, or supposed to be.

My great, great grandfather

was one of the original settlers--

you know, the gay caballeros

that gypped the Indians out of their land

and the king out of his taxes,

and then sold out to the Yanks

as soon as Polk started annexing.

But if you ask me, the old coot was really a wop--

Bergoni.

Wop or Spick, doesn’t make much difference, I suppose.

You all right in there?

Hello?

Hey there! Not so fast, you don’t.

Not so soon anyway.

Mind the riptides.

So you’re 33 years old.

You live in Pasadena.

You went to

University of California at Los Angeles.

But...

I still don’t know what you do, Monty.

Oh, I don’t know. Fruit, I guess.

Oranges, grapefruit, something like that.

So you work for the Exchange?

Mm, I should say not.

That damned Fruit Growers’ Exchange

is taking the bread right out of my mouth.

I hate Sunkist, and Sun-Maid,

and every other label with a wholesome-looking girl on it.

So you’re an independent?

What difference does it make what I am?

Yes, I guess I’m an independent.

I have a company-- fruit export.

Well, I don’t have it. I own part of it.

So every quarter, they send me a check.

Though it’s been getting a lot smaller

since this Sunkist business.

I don’t do anything, if that’s what you mean.

You mean,

you just loaf?

You can call it that, I suppose.

And you’re content? I mean,

don’t you ever want to...

actually do something?

Why should I?

Oh! Again?

Why not?

Oh, take the next right.

Here?

Ready?

Oh, I’ve been ready.

What the hell? Is this yours?

Ta-dah!

Wait a minute. Last I heard,

you were slinging hash in that old--

Not anymore. That was my last day yesterday,

and I quit early to run off with you.

From now on, I’m a businesswoman.

Well, why didn’t you tell me?

I didn’t get any chance, that I noticed.

Guess I’ve sort of fallen for you, Monty.

So when’s the big night?

Two weeks Thursday, six o’clock.

Mm-hmm.

Am I invited?

Of course you are.

Well, I’ll be there, with bells.

Mrs. Pierce.

Mrs. Floyd? What are you doing out here?

Oh, Mrs. Pierce, where on earth have you been?

They’ve been trying to reach you ever since last night.

Who-- who’s been trying to reach me?

It’s your daughter. My daughter?

Ray, the little one-- she came down with a flu

and they took her to the hospital,

because there was no one at home.

Where? Which hospital?

Which-- which hospital?

Excuse me, I’m here to see my little girl.

Yes, can I help you? I’m Mrs. Pierce. Mildred Pierce.

Mildred. Bert.

Just-- just down here. What happened?

She seemed fine, temperature constant.

We thought she’d be all right in a few hours.

Then, just like that, it went up.

Looky, your mama’s here.

Mommy.

It’s Mommy, darling.

Your husband agreed to the additional expense

after I recommended the transfusion and we had the donor.

So we’ve gone ahead.

You still think it could be grippe, Doctor?

The fact is, we get a lot of these cases,

especially this time of year.

They shoot up a temperature. They start running at the nose.

And the next day they’re out

running around like nothing happened.

What concerned me was her temperature.

It’s still 104, and I don’t like it.

I don’t like it, and I don’t like that thing on her lip.

Do you think it could get infected?

Well, that’s the concern.

Now we sent a smear of the pimple over to the lab,

along with a few cc’s of blood,

and they’re on their way. But the point is,

if she’s got trouble,

we can’t wait for any lab report.

She would need a transfusion right away.

She was just a little dull Friday night,

just seemed a little off, was all.

And today at the beach,

she seemed to be running a temperature,

so we called Dr. Gale

and he told us to bring her in to the hospital.

He said no such thing. He ordered her home.

And when we got to the house,

it was all locked up.

So we rang him again. And that is when

he ordered her to the hospital,

because there was no other place to take her.

Mother.

Mother, where were you?

Well, her temperature’s down.

Pulse is down.

So I’ve probably put you to a lot of expense over nothing.

That’s quite all right, Doctor.

See, any infection above the mouth

drains into the lateral sinus, that means the brain.

And with that little pip on her lip,

there was no way to tell.

Every symptom she had spelled grippe,

but just the same, all of those symptoms

could have been caused by strep.

And if we had waited till we were sure,

it might have been too late.

Now the way she’s reacting to that transfusion

shows it was all a false alarm.

But you never know.

We’ll keep an eye on her.

I suggest you folks go home and get some rest.

Thank you very much, Doctor.

Thank you, Dr. Gale.

Bert, you take her home. I’m going to stay.

You sure? You’ll call if there’s any news?

Of course I will.

Don’t worry, darling.

She’s going to be fine.

Letty’s waiting at home for you, all right?

And then you just go

to 209,

and that should be it.

Hurry.

Hurry up.

Get me more help! Where’s Dr. Collins?

Woman 2: Put it on.

Dr. Gale.

Woman 1: We might have to move her.

She’s having a chill, Doctor. Dr. Gale: Get Dr. Collins.

Yes, sir. She’s flushed...

Dr. Gale, what--?

It’s gotta be the pustule.

I know it. What’s happening?

I need oxygen, adrenaline and ice. Mildred, please step back.

Her pulse is faster, Dr. Collins.

What is it? 110.

Her temperature’s rising, Dr. Collins. It’s 104.

Dr. Collins: Take off the hot water bottles.

Take off the blankets.

Get those on her now. Pulse?

112.

Her fever is spiking. Have the syringes arrived?

Yes, Doctor, two syringes. 124.

Dr. Collins: More ice. Yes, Doctor.

132.

Dr. Collins?

Ray, come on. Come on, Ray.

There’s no pulse, Dr. Collins. Come on, Ray, Ray!

Dr. Collins: Get oxygen. Prepare for resuscitation. Ray, come on.

Come on, honey. Stay with me. First syringe.

First syringe, Doctor. Dr. Collins: Roll her over.

Dr. Gale: Come on, honey. Come on.

Come on, Ray. Ray, come on!

Dr. Collins: Pulse?

Pulse?

Second syringe.

Third syringe.

Pulse?

Fourth syringe.

Stop.

Hello.

Yes, hello. Mrs. Biederhof?

Yes.

Is Bert there?

No, he just--

Is this Mrs. Pierce?

Is everything all right?

No. I’m afraid...

Will you tell him that Ray died

a few minutes ago at the hospital?

Oh, Mrs. Pierce.

I wanted him to know right away.

Yes, of course. Thank you.

Of course I’ll tell him. I’m just so sorry.

From the bottom of my heart, I am.

If there’s anything--

Thank you, Mrs. Biederhof.

Mother?

Shh, shh, shh.

Shh, shh.

Veda, Veda.

Oh.

Oh, thank God.