Pocketful of Miracles

- You're through selling liquor.
- Now it's legal, it's no fun.

- I sold the club today.
- You did?

Did you bring 'em? Papa's IOUs?
I brought 'em.
There you are.
The last of Papa's debts.
Now we put them in the Easter fire
and we burn the past.

- Now you can make it Christmas, Dude.
- Happy New Year. How?

By saying you meant it
when you asked me to marry you.

Honey, I'll marry you.
I'll fight Dempsey, kiss a cop, anything.

Let's get started. Two years is a long wait.
Saturday, darling.
10am Saturday we get married. It's all set.

You're kidding. Really married? Us?
The real us. No more Dude and
no more Queenie. To David and Elizabeth.

Mr and Mrs Conway of Silver Springs,
Maryland, and their flock of children.

- Maryland?
- Yeah.

You know the house I was born in?
I bought it for us a year ago.

- You keep a secret real good.
- Honey, I want to be married there,

in Mama's wedding dress
by the preacher who married them.

Maybe I should go out and get my violin.
It's sappy, I know. But let me be sappy.
I'm sick of being Queenie Martin.

Reverend Morgan's still down there.
He's 81 years old and he's still
conducting Sunday services.

Dude, when I located him on the phone,
he cried. Can you imagine?

I cried too. It was the wettest
long-distance call...

Are you crying? I've never seen you cry.
When I'm happy -
when I'm really happy - I'm a Niagara.

OK, Elizabeth. To us.
To the wedding in your mother's wedding
dress... by the 81-year-old preacher.

- Oh, Dude, Niagara's coming!
- Watch it. This stuff burns holes, baby.

- I'm sorry.
- That's all right.