Mr. Deeds Goes to Town

Well, he passed on. He was killed
in a motor accident in Italy.

He was? Gee, that's too bad.
- If there's anything l can do--
- l have good news for you, sir.

Mr. Semple left a large fortune
when he died.

He left it all to you.
Deducting the taxes...
it amounts to something in
the neighborhood of 20 million dollars.

How about lunch?
Are the gentlemen staying?

Of course.
She's got some fresh orange layer cake
with that thick stuff on the top.

Sure. They don't want
to go to the hotel.

Perhaps you didn't hear
what l said, Mr. Deeds.

The whole Semple fortune goes to you--
20 million dollars.

Oh, yes, l heard you, all right.
Twenty million is quite a lot, isn't it?

- It'll do in a pinch.
- Yes, indeed.

l wonder why he left me all that money.
l don't need it.

Mr. Cobb here
is an ex-newspaperman.

Associated with your uncle
for many years, as a sort of buffer.

A glorified doormat.

Rich people need someone to keep the
crowds away. The world's full of pests.

Then there's the newspapers.
One must know when to seek publicity
and when to avoid it.

Cedar, Cedar, Cedar and Budington.
l can't think
of a rhyme for "Budington."

Why should you?
Whenever l run across a funny name,
l like to poke around for a rhyme.

- Don't you?
- No.

- I've got one for Cobb.
- Yeah?

There once was a man named Cobb
who kept Semple away from the mob.

Came the turn of the tide
and Semple, he died.

Now poor Cobb's out of a job.
- Sounds like two weeks' notice to me.
- Huh?

I've gotten the sackeroo in many ways,
but never in rhyme.