Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Just a mite greasy from all that oil you smear on yourself.
That is correct.
I know.
All right.
Sure is.
What charms were you toting?
I can't wait to see Ellie all polished up and talking like Sonny and Miss Jean.
And as we walk, we always keep a smile upon our face.
And it's high time you got one, being a widower.
Here you are, Ellie.
Oh, I ain't scared.
You.
What say you to that, fair maiden?
Come a-swoopin', like a dove.
While I transfuse into this simple, untutored mind the charm, the polish, the splendor,
Ah, Kipling.
What's in it, Granny?
I want to help her.
Yes, dear one.
You look pure Park Avenue and you speak pure Tobacco Road.
Darling, darling, you're delirious.
You didn't even guess one ingredient.
Oh, here, bring some of this penicillin.
Next year, she'll be too old to get a husband.
I ain't never Kipled.
How now, brown cow?