"Oh, grandma, make 'em let me alone!"
"Why, Bleema darling, I'm surprised! Ain't you ashamed to act this way in front of Mr. Feist? What'll he think?"
"Please, Mrs. Pelz, don't mind me; she's a little upset—that's all."
"You—you made me look like—like thirty cents before Lester
Spencer—that—that's what you did."
"Why, Bleema, do you think that if papa thought that Lester Spencer was worth bothering that pretty red head of yours about that he would—"
"There you go again! Always picking on Lester. If you want to know it, next to Norma Beautiful and Allan Hunt he's the biggest money-maker your old corporation has got."
"What's that got to do with you?"
"And he'll be passing them all in a year or two, you see if he don't—if—if—if only you'd stop picking on him and letting Uncle Sol crowd him out of the pictures and everybody in the company take advantage of him—he—he's grand—he—"
"He's a grand conceited fool. If not for the silly matinée women in the world he couldn't make salt."
"That shows all you know about him, papa! He's got big ideals, Lester has. He got plans up his sleeve for making over the moving-picture business from the silly films they show nowadays to—"