W. C. Fields : his follies and fortunes (1949)

W. C. Fields "It's the Wiggins family. They passed a bottle around after church and two of the men fell asleep." "Well, roust them out. Try ammonia. It's going well, don't you think?" "I believe it's our best since the Greenwalt job, sir. We won't be coming up to that one soon." "Well, hardly," said Snavely, with a quick, gelid smile. Then he looked around and muttered, "I'll have to take care of that farmer." He walked back, leaning in and pressing the arms of three or four women on the way, and drew up by the buckboard. "Your servant, sir," he said, keeping pace with the horse. "Who's dead?" said the farmer unceremoniously. "Departed went by the name of Ernest O. Potts," replied Snavely, a little stiffly, and added, "of the Germantown Potts." "Natural or wiolent?" inquired the farmer. "Departed was struck by a suburban local — the three-seventeen, if memory serves me right." "Well, we all have to go," said the farmer. Snavely nodded lugubriously and said, "How true! And how much better for Departed if a real, right-down, frisky job of mourning is did on him. What?" "I ain't gainsaying it," said the farmer. At this point, the undertaker extended, in a sort of sleight-ofhand motion, a freshly laundered handkerchief and said, with tremulous feeling, "Will you join us, sir? It will appear better from sidelines, in a manner of speaking." "But won't it look uncommon odd with these blocks?" asked the farmer, pointing to his load. "The blocks are of no consequence to Departed. He don't care." "Well, I don't mind if I do," said the farmer, and, taking the kerchief, he gave a few warm-up honks. 136